Friday Night's All Righ

The nature of my work has many good qualities and many intense qualities. The good qualities include the sheer variety of the work. Every day I'm editing different individuals' writing and that means that every day is somehow different. One of the more intense aspects of the job is the fact that we have a busy season. We have not quite gotten there but every week, for the last two or three weeks, has been more jam packed than the week before. The job is becoming less a 9-5 and more an 8-6 and soon enough it'll be 8-10 with the occasional Saturday. My point is that this Friday, after the move on Monday, movers on Thursday. Oh wait. I haven't shared my moving story yet. Well, look at this pizza and wonder about its context and then go below to see my moving movers story.
Okay. So. I don't have a lot of pals in Philly, especially not the kind that I could ask to help me move a bunch of shit. My shit has been in a storage unit since late July, just sitting, waiting to be remembered. So I sucked it up and hired movers. Artsy fartsy movers (and I mean that in the best way possible). We met at my storage unit, I apologized for my shoddy packing job, secretly swooned over the tall mover and went to work (I had a lot of work to do). When they arrived at my apartment they called me and I walked over to my new place and let them in. I showed them where I wanted the futon mattress (up til then I had been borrowing one of D.'s air mattresses to sleep...and unlike T. and C.'s air mattress, every morning I woke up with my back touching the floor). So I said to the swoon worthy mover, I said, oh yes please put the mattress in the bedroom. Then he asked me where I'd like the frame. And I said in the living room please. And then, walking out of the bedroom and into the living room he paused and something kind of like this:

'So something kind of happened with your futon frame. As we were moving it fell down the elevator shaft and there's no way to get it back." and then with almost no pause "But I see futon bars all the time so I can just find one to replace it for you".

Sigh. I was so busy at work. And he was pretty cute. And tall. And so I wasn't entirely on my game. I managed to ask him how, exactly, the futon bar fell down an elevator shaft and he said that the bar was propped up against the elevator door and when it opened the bar just slipped down and was, you know, gone forever. Then I asked him whether he really saw futon bars everywhere...because I have to tell you, the only futon bars I've ever seen have been, well, connected to my futon. And he was all, yeah I see them everywhere I'll keep your phone number and give you a call when I find one. And I was too flummoxed by his tallness to press the issue...like how long it might be before he finds this magic futon bar? Or, so what am I supposed to do when I buy a bed in two days and the futon can't be properly put together? No, I humored myself a little and just went, okay tall guy you give me a call and then it'll be great.
Now that the story of the stressful-ish arrival of my stuff is complete, I will continue this pizza story. The story isn't actually all that complicated. After work on Friday I invited my coworkers over to the new, super duper awesome deck of my apartment for wine and cards. They came in waves. Hearts was played, briefly. Talks were had and then M., B. and I picked up a pizza from Fairmount Pizza and brought it back to the deck (you just wait for the photographs, it's amazing...the deck).
After that we went to the Green Room bar. I've passed the place a good number of times and always thought that it looked pretty gosh darned sketchy but in that 'well it could be really low key chill inside' or 'it would be really gross and yicky in there'. Our thoughts, at the time, were positive. Yelpers don't like the place but, hey, on a Friday night you could buy a pitcher of cheap beer for ten bucks and sit at the bar. No sketchy or gross men hitting on us, no snotty attitudes. Heck, if we had wanted, we could have had $2 jello shots. Classy? No. Dive bar? No. A possible future hang out with cheap beer prices? Yes.