“We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder.”

I get one day per week off work. Today was that day and so far its been a delight. Flicked off my alarm at 8 bells nigh, and got an extra 2 hours of slumber. Not 5 min past rising, recieved an invite out for breakfast wit dear Renee. I complied, hurriedly brushed the grime off my teeth, ran some cold water through my mane and was out the door. The ever infamous Blue Fox queue was sweetly forgiving and we nabbed a table quicker than one could utter the words “chorizo and eggs.” All in all our breakfast experience was grade A.  The black gold flowed freely and our waitress was a delight. Laughs were had, plans were made. It seems a secret elite hotel room glamour gathering may be in my midst in the bear future. This may call for a new pair of sunglasses and a conspicuous wig.

I had planned to spend the day at the shoreline poisoning my skin with UVA and UVB rays and guzzling mexican beer…. however the weather was not in compliance. So after sharing a fifth cup of joe with Pandora, the deciscion was made to dumb things down a bit with a trip to the mall. Although irritating and dumbfounding at the same time, a trip to the ol’ mall can do wonders for the soul. Its like a discovery channel spectacle in there. Soccer moms. Living Breathing bratz dolls. Female twenty somethings with painted on complexions the texture of wet cardboard. The elderly buzzing around in battery powered ‘rascals’. A melting pot of all that is wrong with the world, complete with neon lighting, artery clogging food court fare, and a 95.5am soundtrack. All was not lost whence we stumbled upon a 50% calvin klein underwear sale complete with nonchalant and disjointed sales staff.

Having my ass donned in new drapings, I had gotten a taste for the sweeter things in life and craved more. Onwards to value village where we were not dissapointed. Among the highlights were a pair of turkey shaped salt & papper shakers, a double-dutch jump rope,  a vhs of Home For The Holidays starring Holly Hunter, a Mr. PG statuette, a pair of size 20 wooden knitting needles, ceramic hanging fruit, and glory of glories some excellent vinyl finds. Glass Tigers Thin Red Line, Eurythmics Touch, and the ever elusive Pat Benatar’s Tropico album. Glory glory hallelujah. The icing on the cake was the thoroughbred of a cashier whose line we happened to join. With a quick bat of the eyelashes I scored 50% off my vinyl purchase. It would appear that this weathered face of mine might just still have what it takes to charm one for the team.

Our appetites were quenched by Fairfield Fish & Chips and the daily crossword and feeling an impending urgency in my loins I called it a day and trapsed home to to promptly experience on of the most mind boggling BM’s in recent history. And now that documentation has been completed, its time for playing molly maid and bust this attic suite’s disarray into shape so I can rest my weary bones with peace of mind and enjoy a movie with an extra large bowl of leftover spaghetti.

Holla.

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