Q

Mug’s sleepover with nine of us, making it the nearest we’ve ever got to a complete set!

Becky’s mom, as usual, fed us lot with amazing food. I can’t even begin to describe just how – it’s… we shut up for a good hour while we ate which is quite a feat for us. Pesto and salsa and anchovies-eggplant spread and baked garlic MUSSELS (THE MUSSELS!!!). And then baked cinnamon banana, Cat’s apple pie and Xin’s lemon curd for dessert with Island Creamery. Life, right then, felt complete. If there’s one thing we have in common unanimously as the Mugs, it’s food. And cam-whoring. AND THE FOOD, OH GOD THE FOOD.

Being a strange lot, we migrated north to, wait for it… reenact the exercises we did for Transience. And then there was a brief period where we collapsed and died in a food/stupidity coma before going into what we’ve been waiting for THE ENTIRE WEEK (like the losers we are)…

MUSICVIDEOX OF CALL ME MAYBE. This resulted in noise pollution and half an hour of us just standing in a row NODDING to the camera (No, seriously. We did that.) Eventually though we did manage to get a handful of clips where we essentially crazy danced and knocked each other aside to primp to Call Me Maybe.

When I said we nodded to the camera for half an hour. I meant it. Nodding:

That was the maximum amount of productivity we could achieve. Everyone basically flopped around after that outside at the porch couch (attempting to play Kung Fu Fighting! and failing). Eventually we tried very hard to be Sleepover-ish and engage each other in Intense Conversations Which Are Intense.

That means we ate copious amounts of cookies while trying to outdo each other in snarkiness. Well no we DID achieve a fair amount of INTENSE CONVERSATIONS THAT ARE INTENSE all the way up till 6am in the morning (with some perishing along the way and the sole survivor being Beni). The rest of us slept for about an hour and woke up to do, again, what we do best.

Eat. The cycle repeats itself: after breakfast we descended upon porch couch and just lepak-ed the entire afternoon away.

I’m not sure how normal, sane teenagers find time to dress up and prepare fancy stuff for their house parties/sleepovers.

It’s like we have some kind of deficiency that binds us helplessly to pajamas and nua-ing. The bursts of energy come about in the presence of FOOD and when we get excited over retarded single projects that involves being caught on film and appearing like hyperactive, slightly spastic children. Attempts at board/party games, standard Cool-Dancing or social interaction disintegrate and we spiral into very, very migraine inducing yelling and chaos and (the occasional horrific unexpected episode where we somehow manage to set off the burglar alarm).

By all these, I mean I enjoyed myself very, very, very much and I can’t ask for better company.

:-)