Ho, ho, *flop*

I know I am supposed to be working right now, but I need a tiny break.

I have been up and running since this morning trying to set up a factory in a third world country. The first email I saw (and I have a bad habit of checking the BB the minute I wake up) was people telling me “Sorry, going on Christmas break, can’t do this now.” So I spent the entire morning, still in my peejays, tapping on my BB like a crazed woman, chasing after people to do work for people who can’t be bothered. I can so forsee an email flying in mid January when all those lazy muther******s come back from their vacation in January – “Dear Team, due to LEGAL’S delay, our factory cannot be open in time so…..” GRRR!

When I finally reach office, an hour late, I have emails from the other countries who do not celebrate Christmas, asking for things to be done now, Now, NOW! What am I? Santa Clause? Even Santa have his elves minions but I am a lone (Chinese) elf here because the rest of my (angmoh) team-mates have gone on… yes, Christmas vacation.

Christmas! Urgh!

Don’t be mistaken, I’m no Scrooge. I love Christmas – but only when I get to go on a break. On the bright side, I have a couple of things lined up this week that looks quite promising. First of all, Toi and I are organizing a Christmas Eve party tomorrow at his new pad. While he is the official cook, I am the party organizer. I sent out an email invite yesterday:

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Party People, our Xmas Eve Party happening in 2 days time. You will be feast on a special roast "corn-fed" chicken. (If you don't know what is the difference between corn-fed chikin and sai-fed chikin, come find out for yourself.) There will be a gift exchange session (please act delighted whatever you get) and after that, when we run out of things to say, we will watch a special pirated, I mean private, DVD screening of "Madagascar: Christmas Special". If we are still bored after that, we can drink ourselves silly and pass out on Toi's $12,000 bed. Zzz.. Please remember to bring: a present for gift exchange and alcohol/snacks/dessert. (Let us know who is bringing what!)”

The replies trickled in but NONE of the guests (except one) RSVP or tell me what they are bringing. Instead, all of them harped on the $12,000 bed I mentioned. One said he wants to know the difference between $12,000 bed and a sai Ikea bed. Another said she wants to skip everything and just go on to the 'stress test' the bed. Another ask if we can eat the corn-fed chikin on the bed. Grrrrr! Sounds like the whole party will be held on the $12,000 BED tomorrow. Oh well…

On Christmas Day itself, Toe and I are going to attend our traditional Christmas mass at the church down at Barker Road. We are usually hungover during such time, or dressed inappropriately because we are late, still drunk or haven’t gone home the night before. This year, I promise that I will go sober, lucid and attentive. I have checked the church’s website and the title of the Christmas mass this year is “The Christmas trauma of Joseph”. Hmm..

Christmas night itself will see The Man and I enjoying a romantic dinner together. Well, it had better be so! He sent a SMS to Toe last night exclaiming that he has forgotten all about it, not knowing that I was right beside The Toe reading that SMS. I quickly shot him a SMS asking whether he has made dinner reservation and he lied and replied, “Have lah!” a little too quickly.

HAVE LAH?! GRR!

On Boxing Day, I am flying off to KL to celebrate Phillip’s birthday. I only have 30 hours in KL with him so it is going to be action packed. Normally, the birthday procedure is (1) a massive shopping trip for birthday outfit, (2) followed by hair and make beauty session, (3) rowdy dinner, (4) rowdy drinks, (5) collapse in a heap. So, all in all, I forsee (yet another) drunken affair. Sigh.

On Monday, I will be back at work. Still trying to set up that freaking factory. Sob.

Toe tells me that I am too much of a control freak; wanting everything to be in order so much so that I can't enjoy the festivities. She clenches her fingers into a tight fist and squeal in a high pitch voice: “Look, I am Frou’s anus. I am so tight, I am just a tiny slit”.

*Breathe*

So….. I shall just let go of all these Christmas planning and work shit, and I WILL have fun this Christmas.

It will not be the Christmas trauma of Frou.
It will not be the Christmas trauma of Frou.
It will not be the Christmas trauma of Frou.