I was thinking about writing today, and it occurred to me that I need to get pissed off about something. The problem with this is twofold, both on account of Christmas. First, I'm in a pretty good mood, with all the gift-buying and thinking ahead to nine days away from work and the consumption of not insignificant amounts of food and alcohol. Second, I'm too bloody busy to pay attention enough to the world to get angry, what with all the gift-buying and thinking ahead, etc. I told Maxine I should just start writing about the NDP and it'll get me started. But even Jack Layton can't tick me off today.

Today was food-and-alcohol day, and tomorrow is broke-until-payday day. I am now loaded up on vodka, rum, whisky, wine and beer, plus we still have an unopened bottle of tequila and all the fixins for Maxine's favourite drink, a Singapore Sling. Plus, I picked up several kinds of pop and a few different juices. I understand that our Christmas Eve crowd are beer drinkers or non-drinkers - yes, they're my wife's friends - but when I'm at home I'll drink pretty much whatever we have. I'm flexible that way. I'm planning on trying margaritas this holiday season. One of the lawyers I work for gave me the tequila last Christmas and promised to teach me the perfect margarita recipe. I'm still waiting, but the promise has been made anew. I've never tried tequila and have heard it is something of an acquired taste, but it's a risk I'm willing to take.

I don't know why this gathering isn't BYOB since it isn't my party, even though I do all the work. The advantage of BYOB is that it's very bad form to leave with the remnants of whatever you came with. Sometimes, your bar can swell enough to keep you in spirits for several months, or longer if you drink like we do. The trade-off is that you have to feed these people. But for some unknown reason Maxine tells her friends that everything is on us. The strange part is that I have no qualms about feeding my friends, but have no interest in feeding hers. Make your own judgments about that.

In the end, I will spend as much time as possible mixing drinks and preparing food, so as to spend as little time as possible talking to these people. This is my usual method of dealing with any gathering of Maxine's friends or relatives, especially her sister and her husband and kids, who tend to visit on holidays and thus give me a perfect excuse to be in the kitchen, chopping veggies and frying up dead beasts. Their favorite spot is on the chesterfield in front of the television, so our paths usually don't cross between the greetings at the front door and sitting down to eat. A few years back, tired of the TV blaring every time they visited, I had music playing when they arrived and left it on throughout the visit. Unfortunately, with nothing to distract him, my sister-in-law's husband spent the afternoon lurking in my kitchen. I have not repeated this mistake.

As time passes, I actually find that I can handle him in small doses, which should surprise anyone who's met him. We do agree on one key issue: our father- and mother-in-law are both idiots, and getting worse with the passage of time. It gives us something to talk about now, to bitch about their latest idiocy, and in some small way we have bonded. I don't want to talk sports with this guy, I don't care about his opinions on music or movies - but we are kindred souls in this one tiny matter. It's enough to get me through the moments we are forced together by our wives.

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Almost an entire week has passed without watching a single movie, and I don't think I'll see one until Thursday or Friday night. I feel like I'm going through withdrawal. I was going to see "King Kong" this afternoon, but ran out of time with all the shopping. I guess it'll have to wait until my break.

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In closing, I'd like to share a few thoughts about breasts.

I like them. A lot. That's all.

Thank you for your time.