Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Surprisingly, even after putting that title up there, I’m not going to go on and on about a bar today.  I am, however, going to talk about beer.  Because it’s Thursday, right?  And I talk about beer on Thursday. 

Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that Thursday is beer day…or something.  In fact, isn’t that one of the two key pieces of the Mayan Calendar?  You know, that a) the world has a finite end point and b) Thursday is Beer Day?

Well, it ought to be.  I’m going to write my representative.  If they can’t do anything else I elected them for, at least maybe they’d get this done. I mean, who’d stand against a proclamation for Beer Day?

Anyway, last week on Beer Day (aka Thursday), I happened to be killing some time in the neighborhood of my most favoritest beer store EVAH.  Sadly, I don’t make an effort to visit said store nearly enough, so I hopped at the chance to make amends while perusing the store’s wares.

An account of the entire experience was the basis for my post today for the Hoperatives.  Go forth and read it whilst I sit here and contemplate my shoes. 

Well, I’ll be doing that for a little while, at least.  Later on, I’ll probably make another excuse to visit that very same beer store again.

It is, after all, Beer Day.

Pud’n