Thursday, October 11, 2007

Baby, It's Cold Enough to Make Your Nipples Rock Hard

So fall seems to finally be upon us here in Chicago, and I'm guessing that is the case for much of the nation. I'm glad that this seasonal weather has finally arrived, but I wouldn't exactly say that global warming is a myth. 5 days ago it was hot as tits for the Chicago Marathon, and the day before that I was sweating my balls off at a bar while watching the Cubs have yet another disappointing October.

Cubbies fans, I feel for you. You're a generally loyal bunch, even though my lady friend hates your team because of the high-heels-wearing Lincoln Park trixies amongst your masses who drunkenly attend games at the Friendly Confines with their sorority sisters and their meathead of the month boydude. The Cubs will now have gone ONE HUNDRED [BILLION] years without a World Series, something I find even more impressive than the Mets' late season collapse.

Speaking of that collapse, I have not mourned the fact that the Phillies, who benefited from the Muts' fall shitshow, were swept by the Rockies. Jimmy Rollins, you may have made good on your pre-season prediction that your team was the one to beat in the division, but misery loves company, and I am pleased that your team got a swift kick in the balls as soon as it entered the playoffs.

So it's cold out now and the days are getting short. Time to run home to watch Grey's Anatomy and eat soup? I think not. It's time to experience the great outdoors. This weekend I plan to keep warm Wisconsin-style, adding fat- and alcohol-based calories to my body in hopes of insulating myself from the cold winds of Lake Michigan. I'm going camping, and a grand time is sure to be had. We'll be up the "east coast" of the state, enjoying the sights and fresh air of a state park near the great city of Sheboygan. Last time I went to this park, we took a jaunt into town to eat at a local restaurant. In hopes of living like the locals, I ordered a bratwurst, and when the waitress asked if I wanted butter on my bun (like the locals do), I answered in the affirmative. Well, let me tell you, I like good-tasting food that clogs your arteries, but this was just disgusting. When I took a bite the butter literally spewed out, like an overly generous slathering of mayo, and I promptly cleaned off my bun as much as possible while my deceased Kosher ancestors rolled over in their graves. When paying the check, my lady friend left a $5 tip for the waitress, who nearly had a heart attack at our big-city generosity. Oh, Wisconsin...

A couple other ramblings before I return to work:

1) Radiohead, as Adam already stated, is cool. Any band that lets me pay what I want for their top-notch tunes and makes an entire album to say "Fuck You" to George Bush is about as cool as it gets, not to mention that they apparently named themselves after a Talking Heads song. The coolness continues to pile up into a massive heap, even if I too couldn't get thru to their website.

2) The Dogfish Head brewery may very well be the best thing to come out of the state of Delaware. Don't get me wrong, I like Joe Biden (even if nobody else seems to), and I hear that they have some nice beaches there, but my one visit to that state wasn't particularly overwhelming. The aforementioned beers, however, are absolutely delicious. I've had the 60-Minute IPA, which I enjoyed, and I hear the 90-Minute and 120 Minute (which I believe is 18% alcohol) are sights to behold. The Raison d' Etre, which uses beet sugar in the brewing process, is extremely tasty, and last night I bought a sixer of their brown ale, which was delectable. I dare you, name a better brewery.


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