The Continental
What a week. As the hurricane loomed over us Sunday, I - as on most Sundays - decided to go to my local, terrified of what was to come, though in this case my fear was not related to a Bills game... thank you bye week. Last year I spent Irene with a friend's family, but this year I was on my own and woefully under-prepared, not to mention riddled with documented anxiety issues. So what better way to manage fears by drinking 20 beers? I made it home late Sunday night and didn't leave my home in central Queens until Tuesday night to go back to the bar. Luckily, I couldn't have been safer; I had power and everything the whole time, no flooding, no trees fallen on my block, nothing. The Barrister took the Wee Baby Dubs and Lady Dubs to Massachusetts safely, The Yachtsman watched loads of Friends in Brooklyn, and The Apologist played video games. The Scizz, however, was in Hoboken, which was severely affected by flooding and fires and I can only imagine what else. Fortunately he and his lady made it through and The Yachtsman rescued them, and now he is back to tweeting hilarious and offensive shit. Awesome.
I am so grateful that my friends, and the DGWU crew made it through this storm safely. This was no fucking joke.
Okay, time for some fucking jokes.