On Christmas morning, Andy and I hung around in our pajamas doing chores. Eventually I got around to making the Bird’s Strawberry Trifle mix that I had bought to bring over to Dave’s later thus sending Andy out to the grocery store multiple times when I realized I didn’t have all the ingredients I needed. I would like to issue a formal complaint to Bird’s Strawberry Trifle mix. While I can certainly work out a milliliters to cups conversion with great thanks to the internet, I do not know how much “About 700 ml” is, nor to I know what you mean (I’m talking to you Bird’s) exactly how much “some of” the milk is. When I complained to Andy about the directions on the box, he laughed at me stating that Bird’s was assuming I could decide for myself how runny I wanted my custard to be. If that is the case, Bird’s failed to realize that someone may have not had their delicious custard before and would have NO IDEA how runny one would enjoy their custard thus making “about” and “some of” the single handed worst cooking directions you could give to someone since the invention of the “pinch”. ANYHOW. I managed to make the trifle with some success after having to buy additional pound cake and whipped topping since the mix was severely lacking in these two items. Sadly, I failed to take a photo of my efforts so you will have to imagine that it was lovely looking.
It was a bit like this, but without the weird acorns on top.
Around 3 PM, Andy and I headed over to Dave’s apartment for the annual orphans’ dinner. I would say Maggie and Dave’s apartment, but Maggie went back to Wisconsin for Christmas and Dave’s father, Jim, was in from the UK I guess making it Dave and Jim’s apartment for the time being.
Dave gets out his aggressions on the poor bird...
...while Jim just flips me one.
Jim had made sausage rolls and since I was hungry and obviously pregnant, I ate three of them right off the bat prompting a day long joke of “where did all the sausage rolls go to – there was a least 50 more before Moe arrived”. Ha ha. Assholes. Eventually a bunch of other orphan Brits arrived (the only Americans being myself and McGurk’s girlfriend whose name I have since forgotten) and dinner was served.
Bish with beer and Andy doing his Sears Male Model shot.
McGurk with girlfriend (sorry I can't remember her name)
Look! I do exist!
Me, attempting to show off 'the bump' but failing miserably due to the huge shirts I insist on wearing.
I tried to get everyone to sit down for a group dinner shot but they were being difficult.
We stayed for about an hour after dinner, then stopped home, then headed out to the Harp since we had thought some of the group would be there. However, no one showed up so we just had some beers (O’Douls for me) and started to head home at 9 PM. While we were sitting in the Harp parking lot ready to leave, we got a call from Michele and Patrick inviting us over for a drink.
PATRICK: "Did you get it when the nose was blinking? No? Take it again!"
While we only intended to stay for one drink, we ended up staying quite a bit longer playing a board game and talking until Patrick kicked us out by falling asleep in his chair almost knocking his head on the coffee table. Can’t say we don’t know when our invite has run out!
PATRICK: "Please leave before I fall asleep on you."
I would have to say it was an awesome way to end our Days of Foregoing Christmas.