I slept for a modest 13 hours - I fucking love that couch. Me ears were still clogged though. We were unsure what mischief to commit this sunny Sunday, and Google made the Japanese Friendship Garden sound quite promising.
But it's closed for Summer. The Hell, bro? Quite. It looked quite cool as well. Still, never mind, eh? There were two Zia Records outlets left untapped and I really, really like those shops. So we took to the road to Thunderbird and had a gander. As with HMVs, I was just beside meself, not knowing what - if anything - to get. Decided on a movie night to finish up the day, so after a very easy discussion, we got a 15-pack of horror films and a triple-pack of Puppet Master films on the higher end of the sequel spectrum and thus the lower end of the quality scale. Still, the girl was all talky, I put her off visiting my homeland for life, we discussed Random Access Memories - which I also bought - and I snapped the licence plate belonging to a person after my own sardonic heart as we left.
I drove this day. Was quite scary at first, but the fact it was an automatic was more of a shake up than the whole driving on the wrong side of the road thing. But it was fun.
A breakfast platter at Jack in the Box was well in order. It didn't disappoint, either. We went to the Sheba household, I was surrounded by a bunch of crazy Mexicans (they asked me to say) and finally, the final Zias.
Didn't buy anything this time. Get Lucky was on, again. Everyone here has decided I have my own dance for that song too. Wack! We dropped Mama off and went home.
We shoved on the original Carnival of Souls and let the Budweisers and Malibu work their magic. I don't mind admitting that the spooky movie, with its faded organ music (me ears) and dodgy dialogue, was quite unsettling. If I had been here a bit longer, I'd have gone so far as to say it was trippy. "Hater!" It was a good film, I thought. But Nancy did that thing I'm shit at and correctly predicted the ending. It rolled on to the next film, The Haunted Mongoose Corpse or fucking whatever, but we just drank and talked shit for the rest of the evening.
"Sad music in the night sings a scream of light out of chorus"
In a bit.