So I have friends, shocking though that may be. Quite a number of them are into the whole Xmas thing and consider my lack of festive spirit something of a black mark on my character. My usual excuses of being a hardened apostate, from a family of Buddhist, and possibly a witch, doesn't exactly work in the face of their insistent arguments that Christmas has little to nothing to do with genuine Christian theology anymore and filthy lucre is awesome.
So I bought everyone a gift online, aviator goggles, pendents, cufflinks, a Cthulhu Saves t-shirt, Breaking Bad on blu-ray, tarot cards, the usual. The problem comes days later with a Purolator delivery, which obviously I miss. The pick-up place is in the crater of Mount Doom as far as I'm concerned -- and being carless and cheap -- I called upon stout allies to aid me in the noble quest of redeeming my purchases before all hope is lost. Namely people who can drive me there first thing in the morning and not get all huffy about it.
I found someone, after many emails. We've known eachother since the second season of the Simpsons. He's actually a Mountie in training right now, or whatever. So... yeah, apparently it's been a while since we've really have had any 1 on 1 time... it was perhaps the most awkward hour of utterly terrible small talk in my life. This includes dinner with the parents of the girl I was dating in highschool who were devout Jehova's Witnesses. Now, I don't want to put this all on him, the world doesn't exists to entertain me and he's like a legit lawful good paladin. It's this feeling of ineffable sadness that I couldn't simply fall back into that gentle groove of comfort you feel with old friends. We talked about the weather for the 9 hells, the weather! I kept on wanting to, I don't know, relate to him or acknowledge his existence... but we might as well have been in separate cars.
So I'm pissed off at lots of things.