After a brief sojourn to Nottingham to visit my sister - a trip marred by her sickliness, resulting in all plans being cancelled and instead sitting in her living room while she coughs and splutters her way through How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days and her roommates make us dinner [and me a v. belated birthday cake], it's back to the Smoke and joblessness. Unable to handle being stuck at home for yet *another* evening, I escape to Sam's.
A confession last week:
Sam: "I told you we got freeview recently? Well, I've been watching the music channels. And - and I don't know if I'm really behind the times or it's really lame or anything, but - there's this one band I really like."
Me: "Oh who is it?"
Sam: "Umm, they're called... Fall Out Boy."
When I get there, her fiance Joe and a friend of ours, Arthur, are watching the football [England v Hungary], so we decamp to the bedroom where we sit around the computer, watching Fall Out Boy videos and the lamest movie trailers online, listening to the emo bro-down mp3 CD I made her [FOB, P!ATD, MCR], talking about comic books and why some comic book/superhero movies work and others don't, and the Panic! video for 'I Write Sins', and the FOB - sorry, Patrick Stump live lounge acoustic session last weekend [is it just me or does he call Jo Whiley "ma'am" at the end, and if so isn't that one of the most endearing things ever?] and her sister's recent wedding - and then Joe comes in and asks what we're up to and Sam says "acting like teenagers over my new favourite band" and we giggle, he raises an eyebrow and returns to the football and we wonder if even when we're 45 we'll still hop skip and jump up the stairs or into bed when the house is dark and we're the last ones awake so the boogity-boos that live under the bed and creep out from corners in the dark won't get us...
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