Shhh... Secret Squirrel

To celebrate Christmas and everyone leaving for the holidays, The Monkey's household organised a Christmas dinner with wine, food, and a Secret Santa arrangement. (photos available) Roberto the Italian gave me a backpack with the price inside.

By the way, a tip for playing Secret Santa with people you don't know: make sure everyone agrees on what is to be kept secret and why. mumble mumble.

Also, Italian olive oil smells like Play-Doh; British olive oil doesn't smell like anything.

My work also threw a Christmas party with a Secret Santa draw—it was a drunken blast. I heard that the bar tab last year was around £15,000 (remember, my company has well under 50 employees). It was nice to talk to some of the people outside my little room.

Someone got me a fake beard and a Ming the Merciless t-shirt. Awesome.

Oh, and one more Secret Santa note: the cheesy Christmas special movie I watched on television today—Flight of the Reindeer—had an orignal US title of The Christmas Secret, and told of a scientist researching how reindeer can fly. (hint: it has to do with the power of believing)

Update 03/01/2006: I've uploaded a few photos of the flat celebration to Flickr.

My life in colour

I stand strong to my policy of not posting internet quiz results very often. Of course, the last few weeks have seen me not posting anything very often, so when Bob jumped on the bandwagon, I thought it must be OK to follow.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	7.6
Mind:	7.6
Body:	8.6
Spirit:	9.2
Friends/Family:	4.4
Love:	6.9
Finance:	7.1
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Hmm. High in spirit, low in friends/family, otherwise reasonably balanced. Sounds like a fairly accurate summary of where I'm at, I guess.

Heidi, Jon, and Joel all did it too. Does that make me a bad person? I know that Mr T wouldn't appreciate me caving to this peer pressure.

Sick reunion

Filthy London has disgusting diseases, and I've caught one. I've been battling this one for about four or five days now, but it's almost gone. Thank you, Lemsip—you tasty medicated beverage, you. And of course, a huge shout-out to the Monkey for looking after the snivelling wretch on her doorstep and feeding it chicken soup and Advil.

My boss reckons that it's worth stocking up on food, water and guns for the impending virus outbreak. He also stabbed himself in the face with a baguette so hard that it made enough bloody marks to scare a gas station attendant into stunned silence.

Holidays are very soon! I may have a white Christmas after all—it snows in Sweden, right?

Movember results

Porn-star vogue pose
Originally uploaded by Squirk.

When I announced my Movember participation, it seems that people wanted to see photos. Remember, my goal was to grow a moustache like a porn star from the 1970s. Something like the UN ambassador for the USA, the controversial John Bolton.

I shaved at the beginning of the month for my job interview, but most of my co-workers saw me for the first time looking like a reject from Thugsville, Illinois. The furry lip-caterpillar has gone now, but I had to consider first impressions. Cough.

This is not the first time I've been seen sporting silly facial hair, though, so you might find other people's Movember photos more exciting than those of my own movember pornstache.

Updated 24 Dec: Bob has posted his own Mo-vember results. I particularly like The Hitler.