Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Meet me at the bank of the beautiful river

Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I sweat many different kinds of sweat.

'Horses sweat, Gimme!' I hear Mammy Zealot, my ex-grandmother shriek at me from beyond the grave. 'Men perspire! Women glow!'

Watch me break free from the hanging down hang-ups of my childhood: I sweat many different kinds of sweat. There's exercise sweat, naturally. The sweat of fear. Cold sweats, nervy sweats, sexy sweats. But there is one sweat like no other, a sticky sickly horrific gloop of a glow. It is caused by the combination of fear of parenting failure, extreme shoulder, bicep and finger ouchiness and rapid changes of temperature. Yes, folks, it is the sweat of Smyth's and Toymaster, the sweat of Santa shopping, the sweat of Christmas cold and a Christmas cold.

But it's done now and the globules of gunge with the consistency of honey that pumped themselves into the armpits of my t-shirt have now stinkingly dried. The Santa deal is put to bed and it's just those bits and cunting pieces to do. And the food. Did I mention that Christmas dinner is in our house this year?

Fucking kill me now before I develop a whole new sweat stain strain.

9 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

savannah said...

do you have a backup plan for when the inevitable happens, sugar? you know, the oven dies, all your dishes break, the furnace goes apeshit...all the usual stuff that happens right before you host a MAJOR function. xoxo

you have my deepest sympathy!

Red Leeroy said...

Shop sweat never goes away, that tshirt will have to be Oxfam'd. It's all over.

fatmammycat said...

Okay, that was unexpected.

gimme a minute said...

Savannah:
Pizza? They deliver on Thursdays, no?

Red Leeroy:
Oxfam are getting a lot fucking pickier these days.

I brought a bag of only lightly soiled underwear in there the other week and they sent me packing.

I had to use them as a ringer.

Fatmammycat:
Was it? Which part?

Conan Drumm said...

Good for you and Common Law. How many additionals do you have coming? Treat it like a dinner for friends who aren't fussy and enjoy yourselves.

stipes said...

Christmas at Gimmes. Now that would be a barrell of laughs. Uncle Tom singing Silent Night!!

gimme a minute said...

Conan:
I don't know. Fifty-three million hundred. Or two. One of whom is my mother-in-law.

So the not fussy friend thing is not going to swing it.

Stipes:
Old man river, surely?

Conan Drumm said...

Ah, you have a MiL coming. Sherry, have a very sherry Christmas. It's the only defense. If she doesn't take a drop then you're in for it, I suppose.

red leeroy said...

You want a toe? I can get you a toe, believe me. There are ways, Dude. You don't wanna know about it, believe me.

 
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