27 December 2009 at 12:33 pm
I spent Christmas Eve walking towards the sunset on the beach and working at the bar, trading gratin tips earlier and discussing my record collection later.
I started and ended Christmas screaming, first after I slid open the patio door and the bar boss came barreling through on her bike, nearly knocking me over, before immediately careening into the office and knocking over a case of beer. I couldn't laugh hard enough.
The night ended, me exhausted, and I mean so tired I couldn't actually speak, and driving home, I somehow communicated to the boy that he needed to turn around so I could turn off the bar's open sign. I ran in and out, and I sat down and looked at him, and he was wearing one of the masks he got for xmas, and I screamed bloody murder and promptly fainted.
mod l post-mod
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.