Death comes for us all (a melodramatic haiku of retirement)
Alas! this blog is
no longer where it is at.
Onwards! (Back to home.)



guts and garters

It's all fun and games until someone loses molecular cohesion.

Wednesday, November 28, 2001

So they tell me I get a free standard drink as staff drinks at the bar. (Just they, not They, because why would the CIA/NSA/Illuminati or other shadowy figure of your paranoid delusional choice want to inform me that I could imbibe alcohol without monetary outlay? Actually, don't answer that. No... do.)

In any case, free drink. One. Per night. But only after I'm finished, because we're not allowed to drink while working. I'm contemplating working my way through the beers one at a time, just so that I can become some sort of connoisseur. A connoisseur of something I don't drink, but hey, it'll impress guys. Or something. Right? I'll be able to tell them beer's awful with real authority. As opposed to the mock-authority I clothe myself in presently.

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