Last night the power went down in the massive quadrant between Haight and Divisadero, meaning some 11,000 people were plunged into near-complete dark. I always think I'll be a survivor of the apocalypse until something like this happens. While all the hipsters who were kicked out of the Divisadero art walk and the Independent Theater mulled around, cool, I anxiously biked back to my apartment. "Just 1,100 more feet and I definitely will have made it home without being being run over." Once I'd reached safety, I realized my relaxing night without power wasn't going to be so cushy. A refresher course in what "power outage" actually means: no lights; no internet; no means of ordering food; no means of cooking food; no means of walking anywhere nearby for food. Thank God for the super-gay headlamp my brother's girlfriend recently gifted me. And also for my super-gay purchase of Tina Fey's Bossypants. Together, we whiled away the dark hours.
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