I am pleased to report that the zombie infestation appears to have subsided. I mean, the president appears to still be infected, but as a friend pointed out, that's not much different than how he is normally. We've boarded up the broken glass at the theater and the cleaning woman is squeegeeing the blood off the other windows. The National Guard never showed up. Shows you the emergency response rate in DC.

By the way, how is it that my pilates class left my abs kinda sore, but my quads are the FREAKISHLY SORE OF DOOM? Pilates is supposed to work your core! That means tummy & butt! So not fair. (PS - I've realized the reason I have zero abs strength. I breathe from my diaphragm. So, when I contract my tummy muscles, I CAN'T BREATHE. Stupid proper breathing)

The best news is that my dearest of dears, stentoriansista, appears to have de-zombified just in time for her birthday. Yes, you heard me, it's her birfday today. With an 'f.' But in case you missed that:

HAPPY BIRFDAY, stentoriansista!

Love you, schmoglet. Have a great day and get great presents and I'll see you tonight (and bring you more presents. But isn't not being a zombie the best present of all?)

ETA: Also, birthday girl, I give you this cat macro.

So, work was hectic. As it turns out, the zombies locked in the theater all ate each other's brains, as we discovered when we snuck in to check on them a little before the show started. So, we got the ushers to clean up the mess and opened the house close to on time. The patrons were a bit more subdued tonight than normal and a lot were disappointed that I didn't have any braaaaiiins behind the counter. And most actually paid attention to the "Please respect the other patrons. Do not eat their brains."

Going home was a little iffy, but luckily I'm a fast sprinter. Though, I guess I need a girlfriend now. Sigh... At least I didn't have to blow her brains out.

Hello? stentoriansista? Why won't you answer your cell phone? And why did mel21clc send me a text message that just says "brains."?

OK, screw it, I'm going to goingdriftless' after work. She's 17 stories up and has security locks. If the buses are running. And she's not answering her cell phone either... though she a government employee (well, sub contractor)... doesn't that make her a zombie anyway?

warmaker, I'm really sorry, but unless I have assurances that this is just a local thing, I don't think I can make your wedding next week. Plus, they're talking about grounding airfare, and believe me, the politicians are PISSED about that.

So, it turns out that, no, tourists aren't that stupid and yes, there really is a zombie invasion going on. No one's quite sure what's going on, but the problem with having a glass face to your building is that, well, it's glass. Some have broken through, but, this being theater, they're not too different from our regular patrons. We've currently got a bunch locked in the theater while a couple of our company members are improv-ing a show about why you shouldn't eat people's brains. Unfortunately, I don't think it's that popular. That's ok, we never really liked those actors.

The National Guard is coming and they've promised to get them out before curtain tonight. Oh, yeah, did I mention? We had a meeting and ultimately decided that since a) a zombie is only slightly less intelligent than most of our patrons, b) they haven't shut down the metro and c) the show must go on (seriously. always. major holidays and road closures excepted), we're still going forward with the show tonight. A little worried about this concessions shift, but more worried about walking home after I get off the train tonight. Frikking zombies.

So, I took a long lunch and went to my first pilates class today. Holy crap, is that hard on your abs! The class is an hour and I technically only get an hour for lunch, so I was hurrying back to work in the rain, when I noticed something was off...

Everyone was moving slowly, in kind of a shamble. Great, I thought. I've been overrun by tourists. Serves me right for working next to the National Archives and having a gym next to the Spy Museum. As I quickly walked my way past them, I noticed they were all kind of mumbling to themselves. Never fear! I am immune to your touristy, direction asking ways! Stay lost! Serves you right for visiting a big city without a map! Wait... they're not talking about where they are... and they're not holding maps... and why is that little girl staring at my head and licking her lips? Why does her fanny pack wearing mother have a trickle of red stuff down the side of her mouth? Is that... blood? Why are they saying braaaaaiiiinnnnss?

Goddamnit. Not another zombie attack. Is Karl Rove in the area or something?

So, I ran back to work, where my fellow workers appear to be uninfected. Though, with my coworkers, that's often difficult to say. I mean, I do work in an office. Still, I told the box office to lock the doors, though we'll need to open up for the performance tonight. I'm working concessions and I'm not sure what I'll do if someone tries to order braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiinnnnns from me.

(Click here to learn how to save yourself from such zombie-like incursions.)