Yesterday was strange...

I guess it started getting strange when I found myself blanking out in the cheese section of Dominick's for five minutes while "To All The Girls I've Loved Before" played overhead. Which is less awkward, actually, than when they play Kelly Clarkson's "A Moment Like This" when I'm buying yogurt and box wine at 1am in pajama pants with my hair pulled into lopsided pigtails. It's happened, and it's kind of depressing.

Most of it was spent in the living room with Nicole, watching every episode of Fantasy Island available on the OnDemand, followed by every episode of The Facts of Life. Little known fact about me, I love me some Fantasy Island. Seriously, it's like, my favorite thing ever. Ricardo "Fine Corinthian Leather" Montalban and a midget fucking with people's dreams and then totally solving all their problems? Sign me up!


I want to put Ricardo Montalban in charge of my life, I feel like he knows better than I do. I have ideas about how my episode would go, but I'll save that for another time. Because by the time we got halfway through the episode of The Facts of Life where Blair's father uses her for tax evasion, the Emergency Broadcast System sounded.

I have never seen it actually used before. Like, ever. Usually it's "only a test." At first all the tornado warnings were for places that sounded far away... but when we heard Humboldt Park, we started freaking the fuck out. Jen thought it wasn't any big deal until we heard the siren go off. We scrambled to get the cats in their carriers and hauled ass down to the basement. It was totally like some ridiculous horror movie. Nicole was so freaked out that she dropped the wine on her way down the stairs. We stayed there for like, 45 minutes, watching the rain pour in, almost flooding the place, until it finally, slowly started seeping away into the drain.

I was fucking terrified. It seems like everyone we know had like, no problem with the whole thing. We were the only ones in the basement. But, fuck, at the end of the day, I don't give a shit. Something on my TV beeps at me and tells me to get to the basement, I go. I haul ass. I have no illusions about weather being my friend.

We had planned to go to Evil Olive last night with Kris, my best friend from High School, who came up from Florida to go to Lollapalooza. Instead, after the rain died down, we just picked her up at her hotel and spent the evening with The Golden Girls and some box wine. Having Nicole, and Jen and Kris all together in one car, or apartment or whatever is like my own personal episode of This is Your Life, because it's like- all my closest friends from various points on the Robyn timeline. And it's kind of awesomely weird, and shit, if I'm going to ride out a tornado, there aren't any other bitches I'd rather be with.