White Out Conditions [ 2005-01-23, 12:35 p.m. ]

So far the Blizzard of Ought -Five is shaping up to be one of my most favoritest blizzards ever! (A close second is the one which hit late February in 2003 and almost prevented me from flying to California for my wedding. A tense Type A bride snowbound days before her wedding? Good times.) I think the snowfall is hovering around 15” inches here in Brooklyn, which is not really anything to write home about, but we have made the most of those 15 inches! Once the snow starts falling and the city goes quiet, all bets are off and yesterday my friends and I claimed the days for ourselves and didn’t let go until late last night. Huzzah for the Blizzard of 2005! I have already used several exclamations in describing you!

Just a few short weeks ago, a snowstorm on a Saturday would have meant nothing except that work would be slow and messy. But kiddies…I have joined all of you in Real Grown-Up Land of Offices and Morning Commutes! Yep, I started my New Corporate Job, which means I now have proper weekends, just like the rest of you nine-to-fivers. Rest assured, I embraced my first true weekend with open arms, drinking oodles of wine on Friday night and effectively passing out in bed before midnight, then sleeping past 9:00 a.m. on Saturday morning. (Hi, A Full Night’s Sleep? I’m Molly and I hope to be seeing much, much more of you. Call me anytime.) Though the snow hadn’t started falling yet, Kent and I decided that it was pretty much a sure thing for later, and therefore intiated the Official Blizzard Rulz, which means donuts for breakfast, and lots of them. Three, to be exact. Three donuts EACH, which is about one and a third donut too much, but it doesn’t matter if you feel sick deep down in your belly, you eat that third donut because you are operating under Official Blizzard Rulz. (Except that um, I have to look H-O-T at a wedding in San Diego on February 5th and I don’t think the donuts are helping me with my belly bulge issue, and I am only now realizing how very SOON Feb. 5 is, and I really, really need to do something about the belly bulge issue – and also the potential for a double chin in pictures – before the wedding because friends from college will be there – friends I haven’t seen SINCE college, and let me reiterate: I need to look H-O-T. So three donuts? Not my best decision.) Three donuts makes you sleepy, so Kent and I debated napping, but suddenly realized we needed to get our asses in gear because we were supposed to be meeting friends at Grimaldi’s Pizza at 1:30. Pastry’s fiancé was turning 29 and she had invited us out for pizza, but the snow had started falling and baby, it was COLD outside, and Kent grumbled and moaned and protested that Surely, under Offical Blizzard Rulz, we didn’t have to actually get up and actually shower and actually walk ALL THE WAY to Grimaldi’s, which sits under the Brooklyn Bridge, about a half hour away by foot. White out conditions! he showed me on weather.com. Stay inside unless you absolutely need to go out! he showed me on ny1.com. Beware of blizzards and bears and boogie men and monsters! he showed me on whinybabies.com. You may become lost and disoriented in the snow!...and so on and so on. But it’s Official Blizzard Rulz…Kent protested softly while I gave him The Look. We’re going, I told him. My friend Pastry would not accept Blizzard Rulz as a reason for blowing off a pizza party.

So we trekked. And trekked. And the snow fell and the streets were quiet and the city disappeared in the white sky. We stumbled into the restaurant and shook off the snow and everyone laughed at my hat, which is Big and Fuzzy, but very very warm. Then we ate a gazillion pieces of pizza. And then some more, and oh yeah, we drank several bottles of wine. Then decided to walk to the Tex-Mex bar by my apartment and drink more, and this was really the best decision of the day and the one that put the Blizzard of 2005 (only 15”…boo!) on the map as the Best. Blizzard. EVAH. (see, I can speak Internet.)

[I’m sitting here with coffee, wearing pajama pants and a giant fuzzy sweater, happy as a clam, and all of a sudden I hear familiar music. I look at the tv, and do you know what I just discovered, here in my own apartment, as I sit cozy and happy? PRETTY IN PINK IS ON THE TV!! And I was just thinking about Pretty in Pink the other day, about how much I fucking LOVE James Spader and how lame Duckie really is, but that every girls totally has her Duckie, and how if I were a celebutant, I would totally make my parents throw me a giant Pretty in Pink party, and I would dress like those rich girls in the movie, who look 35 and have big blond hair and smoke cigarettes and wear pastels and just roll their eyes through the whole movie. I love those girls! And I love James Spader SO much, and I love how he looks with a cigarette in his mouth and I love his sunglasses and rolled-up sleeves, and for my party I would have My People call His People and beg beg BEG for him to make an appearance, and if he did, I would do anything to meet him, and then I would try really hard to NOT tell him that I kind of want to have sex with him. And at my party the guys would wear white tux jackets and the girls would get drunk on vodka and wine coolers and I would wear a really good pink dress, not that shitty lacy thing Molly Ringwald wore – but yes, I would be the Andy, because HELLO, my name is Molly! – and I would try to get OMD to play at the party. And I would run around yelling WHAT ABOUT PROM the whole time. But Blaine? BLAINE IS AN APPLIANCE!! James Spader is where it’s at. I LOVE YOU JAMES SPADER CIRCA 1985!!! I love you still, but I love you most of all in Pretty in Pink!! Oh, it is so hard to be a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Try a little tenderness…]

My gang descended on the poor, unsuspecting Tex-Mex place at about 3:30, and we left around midnight. I have no idea how much our tab was or how the waitress even kept track of us – people kept coming and going and there was anywhere from 10-14 people in our group, but it never seemed to be the same 10-14 people. When we first got there, I squeezed into the booth with my girls while the guys sat on barstools across from us. Which gave me the perfect opportunity to notice that my husband’s jeans had split IN THE CROTCH (don’t worry, due to the Blizzard of 2005, he had long-johns under his jeans), and so I pointed and yelled HOLY FUCK KENT WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR PANTS? just like a good wife should. But the Blizzard of 2005 was on our side, and since the bar was around the corner from our apartment, Kent went home and changed and came back. And later went home and walked the dog and came back. And did the same thing again, because we just never left the bar. Em and her husband were in town from DC and they came over and I tried to french braid Em’s hair while we shot watermelon-tequila-thingies and she handed out t-shirts that say I ♥ Gowanus. More tequila-fruity-shooter things came out and I stepped outside and smoked and laughed when Pastry’s fiancé pushed her in the snow and she got pissed at him. Because it was funny. No one seemed to really know what time it was, until we squinted at the clock behind the bar and noticed that it was nearing midnight. Is that right? we wondered, Have we really been here that long? No way, we thought. Yes way, the waitress told us. Yes, you really have been here that long.

I dug through the pile of outerwear for my Big Giant Fuzzy Hat and pulled it on, kissed and hugged everyone (probably even the waitress), borrowed lip balm for the 87th time, hoarsely said my goodbyes, and came home to take my puppy out for some late night romping in the snow. In doing so, I created a little snow monster who is now just pacing the apartment, whining, wanting to go romp some more. She does not appreciate Pretty in Pink, not at all. I try to tell her, Tuesday, this is the part where Andy decides that Hey, fuck all y’all! and starts sewing, but my dog? Does not care.

But no more Blizzard of 2005…boo!! I want more Blizzard and more margaritas and more time with my friends and much, much less getting up early and going to my New Corporate Job in the Big Office Building with not good shopping nearby. I want to play in the snow and have lunch again with Maxwell and be a Lady Who Lunches, or at least a Lady Who Sleeps In And Does Not Worry About Money Or Getting A Seat On The A-Train. The new job is good – possibly even great – but meh…good-or-even-great jobs are nothing compared to a really good blizzard! Exclamation point!

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