Of course you realize: this. means. WAR.

Got so-called Xmas truce email from He Who Must Not Be Named.

After feeling requisite nauseousness, have determined to not let him destroy my fucking holiday. I already have shitloads of nightmares and can't eat half the time (of course, the time of year when eating is best and I'm at home, FIGURES), but fuck him in the unfun way!

Okay here's my warplan:

-make cookies, cos it's holidaysey
-decorate Xmas bush
-watch happy Xmas movies
-be fucking little ray of sunshine

Take that, stupid motherfucker.

Where are all the good Xmas movies??

Cos they aren't on tv.

Grr.

I baked cookies, decorated, stuffed stockings, did my best to cheer the hell up and otherwise be of good and elfish spirit.

I'm trying not to think of the so-called truce: it makes me exhausted and sad. Did things really have to be like this?

Oh well. Clearly too much to ask for some good telly. I've already watched A Christmas Story and had a Smirnoff, and now just wish my family would come over (heh tomorrow afternoon) so I could avoid thinking of stuff. In the mean time, must be of good cheer.