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Oh the Weather Outside is Weather…

August 26, 2011

As I dodged lines of people waiting to get into grocery stores on my way home this afternoon, I happened to overhear an argument between three very passionate gentlemen. At first, I couldn’t really tell what was going on. The one thing I knew for sure was that the only thing they could agree on was that this hurricane business is, in fact, a government conspiracy.

And, listen, I know I haven’t written a goddamn thing here in months, but we can get back to that later. There’s no time to revisit my lametastic summer now! There is a STORM A-BREWIN’!

Don’t even worry though! New York is way ahead of you, Irene. We are shutting down our entire transit system, including all commuter rails, just to spite you. But according to those guys on the street today, shutting down the exits and entrances to Manhattan isn’t being done just spite Irene. Rather, it’s being done to kill us.

The arguments were as follows:

Theory 1: Government experiment! A zombie virus will be unleashed in Manhattan this weekend. No way out, so good luck. Hope you’re fast.

Theory 2: Also a government experiment! Biological warfare edition! No way out, so hope you like the plague.

Theory 3: They’re just going to nuke us. Screw New York, amiright?


People are freaking out.

And whenever this happens, I get stubborn. And irrationally annoyed.

Sample conversation:
Ally: It’s going to rain. Big deal.
Not Ally: It’s a hurricane. This is an actual thing.
Ally: Whatever. I’m going to pitch a tent on my roof and never come back.
Not Ally: Shut up. Here, take a couple bottles of water.

I mean really, I guess the planners have a point. But I do think that New York is overreacting a little bit. Then again, isn’t that attitude what got Stockard Channing into trouble in that terrible movie where Natalie Portman is an unwed teenage mother turned wedding photographer? Or something? Is this an actual film?*

In an attempt to get on the same page with my fellow East Coasters, I’ve been watching some of my favorite disaster movies. And now I just have this image of me standing on my roof tomorrow afternoon, and George Clooney and Marky Mark appear to advise me that I “best get down below.” I call the pink coveralls, guys. Where’s John C. Reilly?

But really, I think my roommate and I are ready. We’ve got cereal and Zebra Cakes and board games, and there’s a bottle of gin in the freezer if things get really messy. We’ll probably turn out the lights and light candles and pretend we lost power and make a fort out of couch cushions, which is more or less a typical weekend for us anyway. And then once our broken windows start leaking we’ll most likely watch every episode of Rich Girls on youtube (seriously? seriously) in order to feel better about our lives.

I highly recommend watching Rich Girls if you’re at all worried about this weekend. Whenever you’re stressed out about anything, just go and watch Ally Hilfiger try to make a burrito. You will feel like someone hears you. Which is all any of us need, really.

Be safe out there. Because, you know. Rain.

*Edit: IT IS A MOVIE. “Where the Heart Is.” Do not watch this.

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