In an attempt to distract me with some fun, my friends Lindsay, Amanda, Laurie, and Allison and I headed to a local club to see an amazing 80s band play on Friday night. I don't even like 80s music, but I like this band. They are incredible and exceptionally impressive. We arrived a little early (ok a lot early) to secure a spot at the bar, which worked. The show was fantastic despite my leaving for a half hour in the middle because I wanted to run to my office to "find a phone number". I was distracted by a slight heart to heart with a friend online (I think he ended up hitting on me but I'm not sure; he often leaves me bewildered) before I returned to the club without the number. However, I did arrive in time to catch the last song and to have a snowball fight with strangers in the middle of the street outside the bar. I'm not sure how it started, but as soon as I was hit with the first icy burst of winter, I joined the escapade. At one point, a was preparing snowballs for a very attractive male to launch at the enemy. I have no idea how we came to the situation where I was making snowballs for him, but the even more curious thing was the only comment he actually made to me: "Since we work as such a great team in a snowball fight, maybe we should get married?" This seemed a little fast for me so I nervously changed the subject. Eventually, we all called a truce (not before I slid chest forward into a parked car only to turn around looking like the abominable snowman and Lindsay switched teams because she felt badly) and ended the evening in laughs before heading home. It was delightful to take advantage of the perfect New England winter wonderland. Thanks, girls! I can't wait until we venture to the flashing dance floor at Bubba's.
I almost forgot to highlight the best part of the evening. While we were dancing away to the rocking band, Lindsey proclaimed she was hungry. The bartender reached under the bar to grab a can of Chef Boyardee pasta in meat sauce. Yup. A CAN OF CHEF BOYARDEE, which he was selling for $6.00. YES SIX DOLLARS (never mind they are only 89 cents in the grocery store). Despite the hefty price, Linz ordered it anyway. After the required microwave time, he served her the lovely meal in a bright red solo bowl with a plastic fork. It smelled heavenly. Interestingly enough, everyone around her kept asking where she got it. Linz would take a huge bit, and tell them they could buy a can for six bucks. It was hysterical. It really is a classy establishment.