Two days. Two wedding invitations.

I'm going to go drown my pathetic spinster arse in non-alcoholic jelly shots in a desperate attempt to hold onto my youth now.

Not that I don't think Snape will do a bang-up job of bullying children to tears, but really. So bloody glad I'm not a student anymore.

( -Private to the Order- )

( -Private to Bill- )

Worst week ever. I don't think I've ever been so ashamed of my extended family in my life. And considering my general feelings for those people, that's an accomplishment.

Yeah, yeah, filthy half-blood, blood traitor, my mother's a Mudblood-loving whore, throw it at me. She's ten times the witch, and he's a hundred times the wizard, than the Blacks, Lestranges, and Malfoys will ever be.

Minus you, Sirius. You get to be okay.

If you think on it, the lyrics to Auld Lang Syne are really bloody depressing. "Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind"? Terrible way to start out the year.

This year, I resolve to not drink a single bloody drop of alcohol. So there.

The amount of alcohol underneath my tree was truly disturbing. Is that what you all think of me?

The only rotten part about having a birthday on Christmas Eve is having a birthday on Christmas Eve.

Everyone doubles up on presents (do I send you a Christmas gift with a Happy Birthday card? Didn't think so), everyone sings Christmas carols instead of the birthday song, and I have to share it with Santa. And Jesus. Really, everyone with birthdays not on holidays, you've no idea how good you have it.

I love Christmastime. I know the cool thing is to be cynical, but I love the lights and the smells and the occasional-but-treasured snowflake. And the mistletoe. Most of the time.

-Private to the Order-
Friday, my parents' place, 6 o'clock. If you'd like to do some sort of gift exchange or Secret Santa, someone else needs to organise it. Me and my mum have the rest.

-Private to the Order-
Has anyone else set up a holiday party yet? Dunno about you lot, but I'm very much in the mood for a night of drunken debauchery that'll form blackmail for years to come.

Yes, Mad-Eye, I'm looking at you.

Fuck it all. I need to get out of here. Someone rescue me for a night of debauchery that we never speak of again.

Kids these days. Someone please remind me of this when I start thinking about having my own.

( -Private to the Order- )

( -Private to Bones- )

Reckon we all got a bit more than we bargained for on Bonfire Night.

( -Private to the Order- )

( -Private to Aurors- )

( -Private to Horace Slughorn- )

Remember remember, the 5th of November.

Who wants to set off fireworks and dance drunkenly around a bonfire with me tonight? Barns? Bill? Charlie?

C'mon, Mad-Eye, you know you want to.

( -Private to Edgar Bones- )

You know you've been working too much when you decide to walk home one day and realise the season's completely changed on you.

( -Private to Sirius- )

( -Private to Charlie- )

( -Private- )

Who's up for drinks? I've finally got a free Saturday night. Though I'll warn you, Romeo's decided he (she?) doesn't like to go anywhere without me, so he (she?) will be coming along as well. But he (she?) is pretty good at sleeping in my pocket, so there you have it.

( -Private to close friends, minus Charlie- )

It's all a bit funny, isn't it? How even though you have the option of communicating with all sorts of people from different walks of life on these journals, chances are you're just communicating with the people you'd talk to anyway. In these times, I'm not so sure that's such a bad thing.

I named the bloody thing Romeo. I'm still not entirely sure whether or not it's male or female. Is there a way to tell?

Mad-Eye, if you ever get an eyeball that shoots lightning, I am quitting and moving to Bermuda.

( -Private to Charlie- )

Ahem. Yesterday's hysteria aside, I kept the well-behaved rodent with arm wings. The one that did not eat my face or go down my shirt or wee on me.

It's a trial relationship. If it keeps acting well-behaved, it can stay. If it doesn't, then we'll have problems.

BLOODY FUCKING HELL THERE ARE THREE OF THEM.

BARNABY!


...oh. They're sort of cu

OH MY GOD IT's EATING MY FACE.

I can't believe Princess Di died. We're all mortal when you get right down to it, but seeing someone so utterly untouchable pass like that is mad. I remember watching her wedding when I was a little girl. And making fun of the dress, but it was still magical.

Does anyone know what a sugar glider is? One of my neighbours cornered me outside my flat today and all but demanded I take one. I don't know what it is though.

For the past week, I've been at work more than I've been at home. Or sleeping. Or eating. Or anything else, combined.

Not that I'm complaining in the least, mind you. Just glad I haven't gotten that dog yet.

( -Private to Charlie- )

( -Private to Mum- )

( -Private to Sirius- )