Quality Control
Uffda. Late night barnstorming with the troops over on the North Side. I fell in love all over again with my dear old friend from the left coast – Olympia Beer in the can. It has been too long. Where have you been olde thymer? For good or ill, the reunion was intense and we threw caution to the wind and got down to business fast. Something about the gargantuan work load right now demands that my precious off hours are spent in the most entertaining and debauched positions approachable.

I had to get out of the apartment too because things were getting heavy with the neighbors. The caretaker of my building finally had it out with the ruffian British Soccer Jew. Angry people. He gave her a weeks notice that he had to get out of the country, and she lost it, “I work two jobs. How am I supposed to find time to rent this place?” Everybody swearing up and down the hallways for like 15 minutes. Small humans. Hell. I’m glad he’s gone.

Complementing the Olympians, I made this sweet vegan chili recipe to feed the troops. Yum. And now I am searching for medicines for my morning condition. I see a new product called The Chaser, which promises “freedom from hangovers” or for those who prefer their poison form the vine, there is: “New Chaser for Wine Headaches”. Ahhh modern medicine – what a thing, eh? Currently, I’m experimenting with Bextra. A pill for arthritis pain that I have dubbed the “hangover eraser”. But as happy as I am that I’m not totally dented from last nights drunk, there’s just something off balance in the world when you can take your night to the brink of alcoholic wonder and wake up the next morning feeling okaydokee. The hangover is the great equalizer and punisher – the sweet server of justice, that, if left impotent to rendered her judgment, will surely lead to a world of chaos and drinking with pure impunity.