Twas the night before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas when…I got outrageously drunk and showed up at my family Secret Santa.

Like most storytellers do, let me start at the beginning.

Last Christmas Eve, I was working away like the dedicated young woman I am. My motivation for the day: alcohol. My boss had promised that after work, we could have some staff drinks. The restaurant officially closed at 4pm however as many other waiters and waitresses would know, a restaurant doesn’t actually close until the customers decide to leave (note to reader: don’t be an asshole customer that stays in an empty restaurant hours after closing time). So there were still a couple of regulars in as it was approaching half four and my manager had decided to join them for a few drinks. Meanwhile, we were getting increasingly impatient but eventually an older waitress secured permission to start drinking without the manager. Some of the regulars came up and joined us. The wine and prosecco started flowing as did the bullshit from my mouth.  I started to passionately rant about my difficulty securing shoes large enough for my abnormally sized feet with a familiar old man who knew another old man who could kit me out. In no time at all, my manager had joined us and I had put my arm around him with a wine glass in the corresponding hand. I continued to drink my wine, putting my manager in a weird sort of headlock every time I went for a sip.

Yet the drink hadn’t hit me fully until I left the restaurant, faced the cold air and got a lift home. When I arrived back, I had to get ready for the family Secret Santa. I’m pretty sure (my memory gets a little blurry from here) that I just ended up napping until I somehow found myself in my cousins’ house where the Secret Santa was taking place.  My auntie was opening her present and I watched, confused. I had gotten her name in the Secret Santa but I couldn’t remember ever wrapping her present. Regardless, there it was; wrapped up in enough paper to kill an entire species in the Amazon. I remained bewildered until my twin sister whispered to me that she had taken the responsibility of wrapping it while I napped. Next up to unwrap her present was my cousin, a present which I had bought on behalf of my clueless brother. Keeping in mind her newly established Trinity status, I had picked out some Jack Wills body sprays, a label that I thought she’d appreciate. As she unwrapped the present, I took the opportunity to point my finger at her and loudly exclaim “TRINITY WANKERRRRR“, proceeding to cry with laughter. Since I obviously thought this was top quality comedy, I did this numerous times at random intervals during the Secret Santa.

Eventually, my present got drawn out but my shaky hands struggled to unwrap it. My excuse was that I was trying to save the wrapping paper like my Nanny does. After I had finally managed to unwrap the present, I found a packet of Vogue postcards and a necklace with a ring on it inside. Looking at the necklace in wonder, I held it up and declared that it was “harmonious“. I began muttering on about how this very necklace could allow me to become a manic pixie dream girl (which is an insult to my intelligence but blame my drunkenness). Despite my initial fascination with my gifts, when the Secret Santa came to an end, I had forgotten that I had received anything at all. I began to complain about my lack of presents until my twin gave me a look that told me that she had gotten me something. She was irritated but slightly amused by my memory loss. She began probing me about it:

“What was that, Gemma? You didn’t get a present?”

“Ehm…no …I did, I did, I remember now”

“Oh really?? What did you get?”

“Uh ehm…well some movie posters…small ones or something?”

“You mean postcards?”

“YES!! That’s what I meant”

“And that’s all?”

“…yes?”

“What about the necklace?”

“Necklace, what necklace??”

This conversation prompted me to look for these presents that I had supposedly received. Sure enough, the postcards were found yet I couldn’t locate the necklace and I remained convinced that it didn’t exist.

Alas, the Secret Santa soon ended. So I stumbled back home and briefly mistook it as my workplace as I hung up my coat on the letter box and began rambling to my twin as if she was my co-worker. I was guided towards my bed and that’s where I remained until Christmas morning when I woke up to a bunch of Snapchats referencing something I had said the night before. I got up; ready to face my family after my drunken behaviour. Surprisingly, I survived the wry comments and the bad hangover. I even managed to root through my cousins’ rubbish to find that harmonious necklace that I loved so much.

It’s less than a week away from Christmas Eve now, and that means less than a week away from the annual staff drinks and my family Secret Santa.

Will I get drunk yet again and embarrass myself?

Yes, of course, I need more blog content.

 

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