Infer whatever you want from this, but I'm now being stood up by lesbians.
This, aside from the obvious ego-bashing that goes along with it, also has the unfortunate effect of leaving me sitting by myself, at the haunted bar, for an hour and a half.
Not good.
As I sat at the island, trying to stay upright while wave after wave of emotion washed over me, I decided to have myself a beer.
This wasn't written on the board, but the bartender became my new Best Friend In The Universe when he knew enough to pour me one of these:
(draft) Oh, Bell's Kalamazoo Stout, where have you been all my life? This is as close to the perfect stout as I've ever had. All of the flavor of an imperial, but without the high ABV and without the alcohol burn. My new favorite stout in the entire world. Yummy.I nursed that beer for an hour and a half, and I adored every sip. I would have just loved to have had another one, but I was going insane sitting there. Going to Rich O's after work is not something I'm supposed to be doing any more, and today I was brutally reminded of that fact. I waited for my friends as long as possible, but not for one second longer, then I came home.
