For those not living in or near Bergen County, NJ: we had a really nasty storm on Saturday night that pulled down trees (mostly onto houses and power lines) all over the place. Power has been out at my apartment since 5PM on Saturday. No internet: no big deal. No lights: no big deal. No heat: pain in the ass. No hot water: pain in the ass.
I showered at Scott’s last night. Scott lives in a high-rise in Hackensack that probably has a back-up generator. He’s electricity rich right now and I’m appreciative that he’s willing to share his wealth with me. Last night we sat around and had three english muffins (with fake vegan-friendly butter) apiece and shot the sh*t for a bit. Scott said this morning that he’s wallowing in his electricity-richness, showing it off every chance he gets: he slept with the lights on last night, just because he could.
I’m a bit grumpy at work today. I don’t know if short-tempered is the right way to say it – I haven’t been snippy with anyone yet, but that’s because I’m keeping a low profile. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m functioning at around 75-80% right now; I guess I need hot showers and a warm place to sleep in order to be good to go for work.
I’m grateful that it’s 45-50 degrees outside instead of 0. Trying to sleep in a drafty carriage house with no heat in zero degrees would NOT be fun at all. Not that trying to sleep when it’s 45-50 is. I got up to pee last night and the sheets were cold when I got back into bed. Booo.
I’m sure that every blogger and their mother is blogging about how they’re now realizing all those things they take for granted and some other bullshit about the interconnectedness of us all and how we need each other in this glorious society-based living paradigm in which we currently, uh, live. So yeah, I’m not going to blog about all that crap because I think it’s bullshit. I realize that shiz every day. I’m not a big fan of the whole interdependency thing, so I consider it my own damn fault that I don’t live in a space with a fireplace or wood-burning stove. A warm place to sleep IS, as a matter of fact, on my gratitude list – one which (I do not hesitate to add), I say aloud as I’m hiking down whichever mountain every Saturday.
Ok. Enough =/, now on to the =D.
Friday: I left work on time (5:30) and made it to John’s Pizzeria to meet Jon Barker and Brandy Gates (and her husband Don) for dinner. Jon and Brandy are friends of mine from Twitter (@jedijon and @Biddygirl, if you’re interested) – I met Jon back around the New Year, and this was my first time meeting Brandy and her husband. Jon’s from London and Brandy and Don are from Rhode Island.
And lo and behold: they were cool! Take a page from my book, dear reader: SOMETIMES IT’S OK TO MEET PEOPLE IRL YOU’VE ONLY MET ON THE INTERNET.
IRL means “in real life”, and that concludes our l33t/interwebz lesson for today.
We had a great time. Dinner at the pizza joint, then off to a pub in SoHo for drinks (I only had a couple of waters because I was driving). I am not particularly enamored with SoHo. Hipsters wearing full Jansport backpacks in a pub can blow me – there can’t possibly be anything esoteric about that.
Saturday: I went hiking – bagged Bearpen Mountain, a 5.something mile hike in about 2.5 hours. Easy as pie. The weather couldn’t make up its mind on the bottom of the mountain, but it was pretty sure it wanted to sling some ice chips pretty hard at my face on the top. One mountain left to go in my winter peakbagging extravaganza.
Then I ran home for a shower and a quick hang-out with my friend (and Laila Jo‘s mom) Christine (yes, all my friends are beautiful). The power to my place cut out just before Christine came over, but there was still enough light for ust to talk. (haha – I’m feeling punchy today, so that’s funny to me)
Then I swung (pun soon) back into the city to meet Jon, Brandy, Don, and Alora (Brandy’s sister) at Swing 46 Jazz and Supper Club for swing dancing lessons and then some . . . er, swing dancing. The guys were sharp and the dolls were gorgeous. There were other people at the place besides us, but I didn’t look at them too much. Our party was the shiznit. Well, the girls were.
Turns out, Brandy and Alora teach swing lessons themselves – to other people, I mean. Brandy was Jon’s partner for the lesson and Alora was mine. Don switched up between the two chicks sitting at the table next to ours. Once the lesson was over and the band got to playing, Brandy and Alora danced with each other (total hotness) for the first song or two, swinging each other around the dance floor in a flutter of skirts and smiles. Needless to say, I was reticent to get back out there after that display, and the girls had full dance cards for the rest of the evening. Both Brandy and Alora danced with me a few more times, all the while telling me the sweetest lies. In a not-so-rare spark of intelligent thought, I decided to pretend I wasn’t as smart as I am and verily lapped up said (lovely) fibs.
What a wonderful time. So much so that my vocabulary is shorting out in my attempt to describe my happy feelings any further.