Goddammit, it's a Perfect Storm

So... it looks like I've got an impromptu long weekend... trapped in The Tomb.

All thanks to what is being hyped as the perfect storm of the millennium. FRANKENSTORM 2012. An alignment of meteorological horrors so giddily nutrageous that Roland Emmerich was overheard saying, "That seems excessive."

Hurricane Sandy threatens to deliver the goods that Hurricane Irene didn't. Rain, snow, fire, locusts, candy with razor blades in them, needles covered with venereal diseases, possessed little girls stabbing crucifixes into their virgin cookahs. Winds that will break the speed of light.

Sunday night. Trains are shut down. With no word on when they'll be running again.

Our office—in the industrial wilderness of Maspeth, Queens—is officially closed on Monday. Thing is, I don't think this storm is supposed to really start singing until sometime Monday night.

Impromptu 3-day weekend, I can deal with. Act of "god" and all that. If this turns into a 4-day weekend, the financial loss is going to sting a little further.

But I'm really hoping we don't lose power, or television, or the internet. Then, being stuck in The Tomb would be a really righteous nightmare.

Lord of darkness, hear our prayers.