Today was officially my first day of holidays.
I say 'officially', because the last day of college was Friday, so technically my first day of holidays was on Saturday. But since Saturday is part of the weekend, and weekends don't count as holidays (on account of the fact that I have license to live like a slob every weekend, so there's nothing that special about them once actual holidays role around), I'm making today the first day.
Wow. I sounded pretty moronic right then. Oh well.
Anyway, I woke up to find Wentworth whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and saw 2 huge boxes of photos at the end of my bed. Alright, that was a lie. Actually, I woke up to a phone call from my ex-boss, asking me if I had any spare time during the holidays, and if I could possibly sew her some curtains.
Can I ask, is anyone's life as weird as mine? Who else has an ex-boss asking them to make curtains for her? Anyone?
Anyway, so while (sadly) I didn't wake up to Wentworth, the thing about the boxes was actually true - there were 2 of them, huge ones, filled with photographs, at the end of my bed.
Oh, that's right. My Mum told me she was going to leave them there, so I could spend all day going through them and picking out the most embarrassing ones for this scrapbook she's making Catherine for her birthday. Yeah and when I said 'all day', I really meant 'all day'. That's how long it would take to go through all our family photos. No, I take that back.
It would take longer than all day. It would probably take longer than all year.
We have so many family photos, there's a special storage room in our house dedicated to them. You know how people always say if their house was on fire, the first thing they'd save would be their photo albums? Yeah, we couldn't do that, because in the time it would take to gather them all together and cart them out, the house would have burned to the ground. I am not even kidding - if you took a photo of something every 5 seconds for the rest of your life, you would still not have as many family photos as we have.
It's mainly my Dad's fault. He's a doctor, but I think he secretly wants to be a photographer. Or maybe its not so secret, since he takes photos of everything.
Anyway. To continue the train of thought I was on before the massive rant about family photos...My sisters birthday is coming up. It's on August 26th. The 26th of August. As far as I know, it's not the same birthday as anyone from Prison Break, but it's still a pretty good day. A pretty great day, actually. Because it's not just any birthday, it's her 21st birthday.
Oh, yeah. The big 2-1. You know what that means: booze, cake, loud music and me giving an absurdly long-winded speech in which I reveal the most embarrassing and hilarious details about my sister and her life to date.
This is it - the moment I've been preparing for my whole life. Or at least it was, until Catherine told me the one condition she had for her 21st: NO SPEECHES.
Which is of course completely ridiculous, since we all know you can't turn 21 without manning up, eating some cake, and listening to your little sister embarrass the shit out of you.
Well, whatever. I'm not worried. I've had years of practice convincing various family members to do stuff they don't want - I'm nothing if not a talented con woman. Plus, on the off chance that she refuses to let me do the speech at her actual party, I'll just film myself saying it, and then broadcast it all over the internet.
(Insert evil laugh here)
So, Catherine, dear sister of mine. Who's going to hear my speech? 50 of your closest friends - OR THE WHOLE WORLD?