Monday, December 14, 2009
I got the tree again this year from Enron, who is this guy at the Gas Up. Should you also wish to purchase a very West Asheville tree, stop at the place next to the Admiral on Haywood. The sign on the gate says, If Nobody Here Go to Gas Up and so you must do that. Then the Gas Up lady will call out for Enron and he will disappear into a back room and the other lady will say, "Go on back over to the lot, sweetie. He'll be right over there." Do that and voila, there he will be, perhaps along with an English guy who is also buying a tree and there will be a cute moment there where Enron will think you are together and you will both chuckle and say no, no, separate and you, at least, will think that if this was a movie or a pop song, the consequences of this chance meeting would be clear. However, since it's real life, you will never see this guy again. Oh well, pick a tree, give Enron $35 and the tree is on the roof of your car. Most excellent.
The party was lovely - we did Dirty Santa! Everyone wanted the remote control helicopter and the turtle slippers! I got a large croaking toad plus everything everyone left in my house, ha! - but I'm still recovering from the hangover. As my age advances my hangovers seem to be getting exponentially worse, which is why I rarely drink too much anymore, sigh. No, seriously, it has gotten pretty rare. Or comparatively rare, I guess. Compared to, like, Brendan Behan or someone. Whatever, but old Brendan would have enjoyed himself on Saturday night, which is why I spent Sunday in bed. Without Brendan Behan or a chance met British guy of any kind, which is kind of unfair, but there you have it and at least I had Juliet Marilier to keep me company and very good company she is.