Better be different.

Another penniless weekend has passed and we've spent it well. For the first time, we had more than half a glass of wine for dinner. We had several. We had so many we got a bit drunk. Yeah, three or so.

However, we had a good reason. Our mission: To post 131 ILLEGAL ads, ILLEGALLY all over Paris. We felt illegal. Very illegal. And it was night. It was late, at least. Half past ten. Did I mention illegal? Because it sort of was. Marty's still slightly repellant boss, who entrusted us with the mission, said it was...

"Ne parlez à personne! Personne!"

We trust the man.

See, he gave us chocolate. We call it hush chocolate. Other people might call it Swiss. He called it Catholic.

(By the way, this, what we're doing right now, is not talking about it. Because that would be breaching of trust.)


The morning after...

I wake up early and decide to take a shower. Need underwear from Marty's room.

Marty (waking up): H-WHAT?
Mousse: I'm taking a shower, need underwear.
Marty (wheezing): You're such a dirty girl.
Mousse: Go back to sleep, Marty.

And another pointless convo...

Upon watching the Sunday morning cartoons.

Mousse: Where did Bruce Wayne get all his money? Did he inherit?
Marty: I believe so. Also, I'm pretty sure he invests.
Mousse: Hm.
Marty: You know, factories and companies and all.
Mousse: Speaking of, is this even Batman we're watching? I mean, where is he?
Marty: Charity. Shaking people's hands, writing cheques, you know.
Mousse: Oh.