Nights of The Living Dead

So god, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead?
God, put down your hand, we're not listening.

Easter Sunday is all about living, eternal life, and doesn't it feel eternal while you're doing it? A recap of the eternal weekend:

I saw Blades of Glory on Friday, which I had expected to be the pinnacle of Mr. Ferrell's career, but you already know how high expectations and movies mix... badly. In my seat, however, I was pleasantly entertained.

Life begets death and therefore I should add that I enjoyed shooting some "enemy soldiers" and zombies at the movie theatre's arcade. Video games boil down to: shoot, fight or drive, don't they? (note from editor: not Guitar Hero...)

Saturday began squeaky clean, with lots of actual housecleaning and a coffee with Courtney Wing at Café Rico. Delicious café au lait, decaf. The crowd is waaay to hippie for me (b.o. and socks in sandals, no joke) and I don't think I'll be hanging out there, but I might get their coffee to go, it was pretty good. My favourite café au lait for breakfast is at the Portuguese bakery on St. Laurent, between Duluth and Rachel. Like my dad, I get attached to friendly salespeople, and I think they're personally responsible for a piece of my daily happiness. This woman makes the café au lait with LOTS of milk and foam and I like that when I walk in she asks "café au lait?" because she remembers me. I'm hoping to pick up some Portuguese words and make her love me even more.

And then it was Brian's birthday.

Oh the high school kids they're all fucked up
Touching each other, oh my god
Yeah and forty ounces was never enough
We want to pass out in your yard
We want to pass out
Dressing in drag your best friend's clothes
While boys kissed boys in hotel rooms
Oh and just when we thought we were no longer lost
They kicked us out into the dirty streets of Atlanta
So it's Friday night down on North Avenue
Where gas station parking lot prostitutes
Tried to fix their hair in our rearview mirrors
You know we're just trying to get to the club and shake our asses
A caravan of kids, some big old mess
On an old wooden dock, oh we're bored to death
We've got a bottle of wine, a fresh pack of smokes
We're going to end up screaming about some midnight garage sale

We started with the Habs-Leaf game, a sad and miserable beginning (we lost 6-5 and our chance at the Stanley Cup) quickly replaced with vodkas, chocolate cake and Chinese food. The whole living room was covered in balloons and silver tinsel. I am officially the best worst (sic) foosball player since I was on the winning team both times I played doubles (once with Rob; once with Grae).

And then we hit the Greenroom. And then I learned what a Jager Bomb is. And then we danced like we hadn't danced in a million years. Not just dancing, but burning the place up, the way we like to do, while others shake listlessly, trying only to pick up, and never fully understanding what it means to be alive on a dancefloor. Sigh. We missed Ian and Courtney very much, and it didn't help that the DJs didn't have any Tilly & The Wall. But it was still good. We slapped, we kissed, we bumped and grinded. I think there was even some licking of Grae's face done by the birthday boy, but I was gone by that point. Had to be up by 10am for Easter Mass. I wished I could have stayed all night.

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This episode has been brought to you by Nights of the Living Dead, by Tilly & The Wall.