Black & White Night.

I'm over at Vic's house now. We're doing something (or we were doing something until I started typing) that we used to do in high school.

We nicknamed it Black & White Night, but really it was just what we used to do when we went to the video store to pick out some random, old movie and load up on junk food at her house.

When I got here, "Witness for the Prosecution," which I got Vic for her birthday because we both fell in love with the ending and with Marlene Dietrich when we were teens, was already playing on TV.

Vic's grandmother and nephew watched that one with us, and neither one of them really guessed the ending.

That ending, if you haven't seen it, is one of the best ever.

After Vic's grandmother went to sleep, Vic put "Carrie" into the DVD player - even though we both acknowledged beforehand that it was neither black-and-white or that old of a movie.

It's funny that, even though I'd never seen it and only read half the book, I've heard enough about that movie to not be surprised at all by it. (OK, maybe I jumped a little during that final shot, even though I knew what was coming.)

We enjoyed it.

Now I'm typing while Vic watches some Cantonese horror film called "Inner Senses." Every time I look over my shoulder, something absolutely grotesque and shocking occurs onscreen.

I turn my head, and it's women with slashed wrists in swimming pools. I turn again, and it's bloodied, dead children - with what appear to be the worst cataracts ever - screaming obscenities in Cantonese.

Vic, sitting on the couch, is downing Diet Coke and grinning, even though she's obviously freaked out.

Oh God, she just asked me what I'm looking at her for.

I should stop typing.