ways_back_room | Daily Entertainment.

Surviving rather well, if virtually snowbound. We've got a blizard warning here until noon, and I've just heard public radio say we've a state of emergency in 29 counties. I think the puppydog's got it worse than I do - small apartment+cooped up in same. *pets him*

Right, temporary breakage of the fourth wall? Backroom invasion! :) I've been wanting to get in early on one of these!

The door opens to admit a short, plump twenty-something in jeans and a heavy sweater. Also a suddenly very curious yellow labrador (his leash is still securely held), a gust of icy wind and what looks like an inch of snow all at once. Chanter's dark hair, her clothes, and the lab's fur are thoroughly covered in the stuff. "Brrrr! I am *so* not doing that again unless I have to--wait, what--oh cool!" Someone's just realized she's not in her apartment, never mind the keys still in her hand. "This place again! This beats being stuck at home, even if I can't get Worldservice coverage in here." Beat. "Or can I?"

The lab, completely unconcerned with his chatty human friend, proceeds to shake melting snow and near-white fur all over. "Gah!"

I am frozen out of my car. AWESOME.
So I'm thinking Happy Hour might go up earlier than I'd planned today, but first (after I call work to go 'yeah, so about that') I'm going back to bed for a while.
But after that, there will be SHENANIGANS.

Eeeek! I bet you're not alone, either. *hugs* Yes, definitely stay home. If it's anything there like it is here, it's warranted.

I may just tag that early happy hour. Hmm. :)

WE had rain here on the west coast the other day...expect more snow if you're in the Midwest if you haven't got it already. ; p

I'll break the Wall when I get to work.

I walked out of my apartment this morning and the entirety of my block looked like it had been coated in a layer of ripply glass. Thank God for salt trucks.

As far as the fourth wall goes, a tall, stocky, dark-haired woman in a purple shirt and tan pants just wandered in and hung up her Indiana Jones hat. "Anybody got a towel? I slipped and fell on the way here and it's wet out there..."

WOO Fourth Wall Break! Steph, you make my morning better with this. <3 (Also, here in Georgia we have no snow. It's sort of shitty weather, but less Snowpocalypse-shitty and more like the weather just doesn't even want to pay attention to us. It's been gray and icky for two days.)

When the door opens and admits a sleep-tousled young woman in pajamas and obviously intended for the shower, she stops and makes a thoughtful noise and disappears for a moment, grinning like a maniac. Two minute later she's back and tugging a multi-leash--with about eight people attached to it by the ankles--through the door, to attach it surely to the nearest immovable object. "Y'all stay here. Don't destroy anything irreplaceable."

"Uh, sorry," says the girl in the fluffy sweater. "Would if I could, but this place showed up where my apartment was supposed to be, and I can't get to my closet." There's a pause, and a shiver. "I could probably use one to get the snow out of my hair, come to think of it. A towel, not a closet."

Unconnected to much else, sorry Cam, but you have a curious pink nose aimed in your direction now. No, it's not Chanter's.

The Front Door slams open, driven by a fist of swirling, snow-flecked wind.

" -- so we're not getting hammered like Indiana or Chicago, but screw this snowy tornado."

The woman who steps across the threshold -- late twenties, short dark hair, saucy librarian glasses -- removes the Palm Pixi from her ear when she realizes she's lost signal. Stupid AT&T, stupid wind; if she didn't make Rough Pasted bedhead her signature look, she'd be even surlier, given the mussed state of her hair.

But, whatever. She may be running ten minutes late this morning -- ugh, Lexington traffic, particularly inbound Winchester Road -- but she has a venti Starbucks in hand, and that is half the battle on days like this.

Slipping her phone into the pocket of her gray wool trench, it takes her a moment to realize she's not standing in the stairwell of Kinkead Hall at the University of Kentucky.

Her expression brightens.

"Um, this is actually awesome."

Edited 2011-02-02 14:05 (UTC)

"Oy. I'll see if I can find one for you, then." Cam shrugs. Four years at college in Cleveland mean that being wet is just one of those things you deal with.

"Oh, hey. Hi, puppy." She crouches down and holds out one hand, palm up, for the sniffing.

"Nah, forget it," Chanter says easily. "I'm good. Worst case scenario, I wring out my hair. If I find one for you, I'll let you know." She does, in fact, clip the keys previously in her hand to her left beltloop, the better to properly brush snow out of said hair.

As for the sniffing? There is much of it. Also much wagging. Chanter's sounding fondly amused over there. "You're going to have a friend for life now, you know this, right? Look out, he kisses."

Would that I could have time to doing Fourth Wall stuff. But I am here at work - no surprise, of course, but I would say conditions with the ice and rain and puddles and slow trains and impossible walks are actually worse than with most snowstorms. Though I hadn't heard of anything along the lines of major accidents or power outages yet, so this might count as just an inconvenience.

Just keep in mind that the Queensland region of Australia is facing a potential level 5 hurricane. All this snow and ice is not anywhere near as bad as that.

A woman in glasses and a business casual outfit, her curly brown hair semi-restrained in a bun, is trying to extricate herself from an extremely long, vari-colored scarf of hand-knit origin and timey-wimey inspiration.

"Halp."

"Your mileage may vary."

Crys is unknotting the hand-knit scarf from her neck with icy fingers. (Her back-up gloves just don't do the job like her favorite missing ones.)

She nods toward the two cowboys at her table -- one wearing a black hat, the other sporting a white Stetson.

"I can't do a thing with these two. But if I tried to leash 'em, at least one of them would shoot me."

Another woman, stocky, mid-twenties, in business casual with her frizzy brown hair semi-contained in a messy bun, can't help herself.

"Oh, you are gorgeous, you are," she says, crouching down in front of the dog once the lab has finishedd transfering the snow from his fur to every nearby surface.

"You're going to have to excuse me while I'm being jealous in your general direction," grins a stocky woman in business casual, with her frizzy hair in a messy bun - also with saucy librarian glasses. "There aren't any coffee places on the way in to the archive for me."

"Bribery, every time," the young woman says, earning a glare from a few of them--one young man of a few years older than her comes walking in leashless with a charming smile.

"And there are a few of us she trusts to walk on our own without destruction following in our wake," Charles says with a nod of his head as he helps her with the scarf. (He's all kinds of infuriatingly put-together in the mornings, his mun thinks.)

"Where the hell did Chekov get to? I don't want him to get lost again."

A dark haired and sleepy woman still in her cozy pyjamas with bright pink fluffy socks wanders in.

She brightens up when she sees where she is.

"Oh hey! Maybe this time I won't miss all the fun!"

Freshly dressed out of a shower and with a mass of black curls semiplastered to her head--the blow dryer decided to revolt--another mun reaches back through the door for another towel.

"Still need one?"

"Dude, I want your scarf," Lauren says as she approaches to help untangle Saph from her scarf.

Saph is grateful for the help. "Thanks. I was aiming for it to be juuust long enough to be clear what it was without having to carry it when I wore it, but the weight of the wool stretched it as time went by."

When she finishes rolling it up into an easily-contained coil, it's about the size of a basketball. "It's about a foot and a half longer than it was when I first finished it."

Charles gives her a hand with the scarf, unwinding it from her neck.

"Lovely scarf," he compliments, trying not to displace her glasses or bun as he takes the scarf. (It's notable that he seems to be getting glares from several other pups on a multi-ended leash.)

Lauren laughs.

"Oops.

One day I'm going to learn to knit and make myself of of these," she says, knowing damn well that she never will.

"I can teach," she offers with a grin.

"I even taught a friend of mine, though he was left-handed and I'm right-handed. It was an experience with mirrors."

The young Russian can't help a little laugh at the snow being shaken off, but comes forward, kneeling in front of the dog, clearly unconcerned by the snow and animal hair as he pets it, looking up at the woman with a sweet smile.

"Is snowing for you, yes?"

"Thank you," she smiles, cheerfully. "I made it myself and enjoy wearing it - it's really warm - but sometimes it's a hassle to extricate oneself from."

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