All the fake fun you can handle...in 2 hours

Last night Carrie and I went out in Sagamiono and got pissed. We went to an izakaya, get hammered, through some food, fake vomited and left. Fine weekend fun. But not the kind of fun worth blogging about. At least not blogging about it for the 32985731285742389574th time. So here is my guide to extending your drunken antics past the cut-off for nomihoodai (all you can drink).

Carrie looking sexy.



Me looking suspicious.



Elevators.
Did you know that the air-conditioner switches off when the doors close and it stops moving? True. And I should know. Last night Carrie and me did some partying in Sagamiono. Following getting pretty smashed in an izakaya, it tooke us about 2 seconds in the lift to know that getting out on the ground floor would be a wasted opportunity (or 3). And so we did what any bored/drunk/hilarious people would do...we fake-pashed until the doors would open in which case we would look around sheepishly and apologise much to the disgust of our new lift-sharing friends. Pretty funny. But not funny enough. After a few goes at that, and just generally being tools, we waited for the lift to get to the bottom but rather than get out we laid on the ground and waited for someone outside to press the button to open the doors. At which point we would drag ourselves from the lift on hands and knees, gasping for air saying "thanks you, thank you, thank you etc" precisely in the way you would if you actually had been trapped in a lift and weren't just mid-way through a night of drunken-faking adventures.

Print-club.
Many of you might know that in Japan it's pretty much the done thing to get print-club photos of you and your bitches as a reminder of wasted hours spent hanging out in video-game centres. Nerds. Print-club is also hot for when you get hammered and think you are looking a bit like Bon Jovi and need some stickers to capture your sexiness. Not suprisinly me and Carrie were pretty fucking excited to find a booth (amongst the sea of booths) that has a wind machine. A WIND MACHINE! A total dream come true. If you look at the photos above you would be forgiven for thinking that we were frollicking about on bonfire-night. Fake. And also that Carrie was a princess (true) But the tiara? Fake.


McDonalds.
After we were done with print-club, and the place closed down we decided to go to McDonalds. Much to out dismay, sweet, sweet McDonalds was fucking closed. Jesus. So we stood at the door rubbing our stomachs faking hunger. Although the counter-kids thought this was rather amusing (and it was) they were not exactly in a hurry to cough up some love-burgers. To further demonstrate our want/need of their goodies we pulled up some chairs right at the front door. Nothing. After all the smiling, and stomach-rubbing and yelling it was time for a fake cardiac-arrest of course. So I took a fall, whilst Carrie faked doing CPR on me. Absolute classic. We are comic geniuses for god-damn-sure. But still no burgers. Penny-pinchers.