This is gonna be the thread where we talk about stuff

Schazdenfreude awaaaaaaaaaaay

So my family returned to Christchurch after a short stint out of town, so we could all do our New Years Eve celebrating. My parents had a few friends over and were having a barbecue outside, while the middle sister (the one I don't get along with so great) had friends over and partied indoors (so as to avoid a repeat incident with noise control like what happened the last times she'd hosted one of her get-togethers. Bear in mind she's seventeen and thus her and likely 90% of her friends legally shouldn't be drinking alcohol. But apparently it's a normal thing, so eh.)

I did my share of the tidying up before I cycled out (half an hour or so being oblivious to weird looks from passing cars as I lip-synced with lustful abandon to Florence and the Machine (I still maintain Dog Days Are Over is my personal victory track to see off what was a shitty year for Christchurchians and friends of Christchurchians (like myself))) to my friend's place.

I had an excellent night, suffice to say. Crashed around 3am, woke up before my gracious host and tidied the place up, then used the brownie points to hitch a ride to the nearest subway. (I'm still debating whether meatball subs with all the vegetables are a valid hangover cure or if I was just hungry, but whatevs bros)

I get home around 2pm and get the drudge report from Mum about how things went down last night. Suffice to say a lot of complimentary comparisons about how my friends (despite having a predilection for partying in a caravan until you break the back chocks on it) are generally tidy, light drinkers - the kind that don't spill shit everywhere, bring noise control down on our arses, leave enough recycling on the property we're putting bottles and cans which won't fit into a wheelbarrow before the bin gets emptied out once, or somehow break the cover to the cistern (in a presumed effort to escape through the back window) or the handle of a drawer.

My somehow-not-disgraced sister didn't even make it to the Final Countdown, instead opting to take a kip with a handy dandy bucket as negotiations proceeded with the copious amounts of booze in her stomach; meanwhile her thirty-odd teenage friends exercised their questionable right to scream like stupid fuckers at every provocation. Dad apparently chased any sleepovering stragglers out the house late in the morning.


This was all generally enough to leave me quietly satisfied in a way that I couldn't rub in her face lest I be publicly decried as a nasty killjoy (because she was still curled up on the couch watching Glee re-runs when I finished a leisurely bike ride back home on this gorgeous midsummer day), but her Facebook comments today just made me radiate enough bitchy happiness to warrant whacking out this rather stupid several-paragraphs of yapping.

To the bitches in my house yestaday who cleaned out my jar of nutella. Fuck you all.

Considering this was the jar of Nutella she had given to the family as part of her "combined christmas present to all of us" (because she was too financially indentured to the task of buying new pairs of denim shorts, and too cool to even make silly presents for each of us), my overall assessment of her ain't exactly glowing.

Buuuuut I've had a fantastic New Years Eve and Day so I can't say I'm actually full-out disgusted at her or nuffin'. Here's to a peaceful and prosperous 2012 for all of us, bitches <3