18.1.14.
Yes, Comrades
So, I woke up, got into yesterday's clothes, which are the equivalent of PJs when you're a guest, and went outside for the first Marlboro of the day. This involved unlatching then pulling back a sliding door, unlocking a security door then finishing with a graceful step outside. I enjoyed it.
I was going to title this entry 'Locked Out Of Heaven' but then I remembered I'm not a colossal homo. I moved to open the sliding door...and the latch had fallen from the inside. No keys. No shoes. No sense. Uh oh. I used my phone for all it's worth, emailing for rescue, finding out how to make myself magnetic so I could try to lift the latch through the glass door, everything. I was out there for three hours, by which time I was getting into Bear Grylls mode. "Right, I'll drink from the hose, dig meself a burrow and when the sun comes down, drink my own piss". As I prepared for the worst, the Nancys returned.
I had just enough time to piss and moan about the fact I was ill and shit when I was whisked away to Wal Mart. How does one make this sound exciting, really? We wandered, and the only item of note purchased was a ginger root. We got back, I drank ginger tea and loaded myself with anything that might, however slim the chance, revive me from the brink of demise.
Soon enough we were all united, as if one big burrito, with mayo. Pizza, sprouts, broccoli and chicken tits, standard American dish. This show that's always on, TMZ - to work for that show is my vision of Hell. So, anyway, we discussed what the plans are for the coming week - no spoilers here folks.
When we arrived at Mama's, Irie and I, there were Shebas all over the place, getting their hair cut by the lady herself. It's odd, but if they look in their 20s, they're probably teenagers and vice versa. Can you imagine how much paedo faux pas goes on here? No, me neither. Tree had just gotten up, so we went to her cousin's.
We got back and settled down to discuss everything from Denmark to things cockroaches hate whilst all sat on our phones, like the inside of a fucking Starbucks. It's quite incredible how many people who are flying solo go to Starbucks on a Saturday - they're all flying solo for good reason, I hasten to add. At home, we watched cartoons and every time we had to go outside, I had a full survival kit in hand.
"I couldn't bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled"
In a bit.
SD
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