Christmas queer

I’d been skipping from party to party, trying to get my fill of Christmas cheer. From Christmas parties that consisted of lesbians, bikies, gay boys and even the famous Chopper Read, my head was starting to feel the pains of excessive cheer. Oh, I was getting too old for this.

With not a single present bought, I sat on the sofa counting my blessings before mustering the strength to tackle the masses in the Pitt Street mall.

It seemed I was not the only one who had left their Christmas shopping to the last minute. Middle-aged housewives were grabbing anything they could get their hands on. Fathers and boyfriends were aimlessly walking the aisles, searching for that elusive pressie that would either get them back in the good books or get them that Christmas shag they were hoping for.

A quick visit to the food court for a very special holiday treat and I was soon diving into a roast pork roll with gravy and lots of crackling. After this quick binge, my GI levels were soon at a level where I was prepared to tackle my shopping list.

Despite a to buy list which included Vanity Faire, Fuchsia Star, my flatmate Matt and more, I soon found my shopping basket filled with more personal presents. With bargains practically jumping from the shelves, how could I resist buying a new fragrance, hair products, music and a few things for my PC? It would be wrong to walk past such savings.

After three hours of very intense shopping I quickly skulked home, laden with parcels, but yet to check anyone off my list.

So I made a quick dash to the newsagency and picked up nine Christmas cards and a wad of lottery tickets. It is just going to have to do. Christmas is about the thought, but unfortunately in my case I should have thought a little harder.

I wish everyone who has supported me in 2006 a huge thank-you: the Midnight Shift, Stonewall, Mr Mary’s, Slide, the Palace and Sydney Star Observer.

Have a very safe Christmas with lots of food, and an even more glamorous New Year. Let’s hope I find a real boyfriend in 2007, not like the shithouse one I had last year.