Monday, June 15, 2009
Miller Light T-Shirts and Other Great Victories
Did I mention that I won a Miller Light T-Shirt at a bar in Wicker Park on Thursday night? To secure this great victory, I had to actually drink a Miller Light. Oddly enough, there were surprisingly few people in the bar who had risen to this challenge. They even threw in a Miller Light sweatband for good measure. And so now every time I sweat I will think of Milwaukee's finest. It's the majority of what comes out of my pores anyway.
Saturday night I drank red wine without even the promise of some sort of related apparel. It was a lovely night on a friend's roof deck, which started out not so lovely when my friend did not hear her buzzer or my phone calls for nearly half an hour. I am fairly certain that her neighbors believed me to be some sort of wine-bearing prowler and called the police. They somehow also did not enjoy it when I attempted to tap out an S.O.S. on my friend's intercom.
And yesterday for my victory lap I had several vodka drinks in a beer garden where they inexplicably played 90s b sides (yes, there was Ace of Bass, thanks for asking) for hours on end. I also ate a shame-sized portion of garlic cheese fries, which I believe may come to replace religion in the coming century. Now that is what I call a weekend.
Did I mention that I won a Miller Light T-Shirt at a bar in Wicker Park on Thursday night? To secure this great victory, I had to actually drink a Miller Light. Oddly enough, there were surprisingly few people in the bar who had risen to this challenge. They even threw in a Miller Light sweatband for good measure. And so now every time I sweat I will think of Milwaukee's finest. It's the majority of what comes out of my pores anyway.
Saturday night I drank red wine without even the promise of some sort of related apparel. It was a lovely night on a friend's roof deck, which started out not so lovely when my friend did not hear her buzzer or my phone calls for nearly half an hour. I am fairly certain that her neighbors believed me to be some sort of wine-bearing prowler and called the police. They somehow also did not enjoy it when I attempted to tap out an S.O.S. on my friend's intercom.
And yesterday for my victory lap I had several vodka drinks in a beer garden where they inexplicably played 90s b sides (yes, there was Ace of Bass, thanks for asking) for hours on end. I also ate a shame-sized portion of garlic cheese fries, which I believe may come to replace religion in the coming century. Now that is what I call a weekend.
