Where I Come From…


So remember that Mr. Anderson took me to that wonderful dinner in New Jersey for Christmas?


For New Year’s, I decided to go visit a friend of mine, June (who I haven’t seen since June!) in Arcade, NY, who I desperately have been missing.  Mr. Anderson had to work until 10pm, and so then we were planning to jet over to the new Pool Hall/Bar/Clubby place that had just opened up near where my friend June lived.

We hustled and bustled and dressed up nice, and managed to get there just before midnight!!  The timing was perfect.  I spotted June immediately across the bar, amid the flashing lights and the din of the live band, because of her characteristic super long, flowing hair and bright smile.

We made it!!


{Hugs and Kisses all around :)}

I hugged June a great big hug, and she introduced me to some friends, and I sat and we chatted a bit.  The place only served beer, but no matter, I wasn’t drinking anyway–I was just so happy to see June!

Then things started getting weird.  Some people seemed WAY too drunk from what the place was serving, including the band members.  When the band took a “break” to fill up and go outside to smoke, some dance music was put on.

I was like–YAY!  I love to dance.  I dance at home, I dance in the grocery store, dancing is fun–especially when you have kids.  We are a dancin’ kinda family.

I started walking toward the dance floor, imploring Jewel and Mr. Anderson to come with me, when, all of a sudden–it wasn’t a dance floor any more.  One of the daughter’s of June’s friends turned it into a stage and busted out in a dance routine that could have been choreographed by Pink!  She was Droppin’ It Like It Was Hot and Shakin’ that Thang all over the place–literally.

There wasn’t any room for anyone else to dance because it was hazardous–what with all the spinning and flying and flapping limbs around.  It was like we were in a “Bring It On” movie where this was the part when somebody starts a dance war.


Mr. Anderson and I eventually just kind of rolled with it, and danced it up a little—June even joined in for a minute or two.  Eventually I decided I needed a cigarette, and went back to our table, where some random dude was picking up other people’s drinks and drinking them!!!  All I heard was a loud and stern, “NO.” from Mr. Anderson and I knew that guy was in trouble.  One of the bartenders saw what was unfolding and swiftly replaced the soiled drinks with new ones, while the dude sort of babbled unintelligible whining apologies, still clutching one of the stolen drinks.

“Anderson–we’re not in Pennsylvania anymore…” I thought to myself.  I was beginning to feel badly about dragging Mr. Anderson into a slummy techno/country pool bar in Western New York for New Year’s Eve when he had taken me to a lavish seafood feast in Jersey for Christmas.

Aaaaaaaaaaalways Classy, Jess.


Then it got worse!  I finally did make it outside for that cigarette, only to be interrupted midway by Mr. Anderson bursting out of the front doors and declaring, “WE’RE LEAVING.”

A fight had broken out, knocking over the very table that we had been sitting at (so much for those new drinks!), and he had had ENOUGH.

Omg.  I was so embarrassed.  I hadn’t worn a coat outside, so, like a soldier dashing back into the fray, Mr. Anderson courageously retrieved my coat from what used to be our table, having to avoid flailing fists and screaming drunks while doing so.

Um.  Happy New Year?



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