Right, so. I'm now officially adding "my parents drunk" to the list of things that I would Never Like To See Again, Ever. Especially when they ended up getting completely shitefaced on, of all things, prissy brand-name chocolate liqueur. Who even does that, besides randy Sixth Year girls who fancy themselves foxy and cultured? No one, that's who, and I truly believe that Noah and Pat are scarred for life.
A pity, really.
Although not as pitiful as spending your New Years with your slurring mum and dad and freshly scarred siblings.
That's right, pity away. Although, honestly, it was loads more entertaining that being puked on and grabbed inappropriately by Ministry gophers, which is what I did last year. My favorite robes were ruined and my tits are still sore from it.
Fuck, my hands are cold. I'm bloody done with this thing unless it can magically become more entertaining than my History of Scandinavian Runes. Thus far, the Runes are in the lead.