"Cubicle-dwellers, raise your pints!"

That line is from this article on Slate.com, courtesy of Field Maloney. The gist of it is, wine has overtaken beer as the national libation of choice.

Now, as a man who will always have a place on his shelf for Jack Daniels and Drambuie (not to mention various types of vodka), the last few years have seen my beer appreciation on the rise. This can be blamed on a man from Pittsburgh named Geoff -- who first introduced Corsendonk to my palette.

And there's the problem and solution, methinks. Mainstream American beer tastes like ass. More often than not, they're watered-down pilsners that we buy on the cheap. As opposed to, for example, a bottle of Pilsner Urquell to accompany that steak sandwich. That's a damned fine pilsner.

To combat this, I recommend that all folks of legal age remember to have beer with your meals. Not just sporting events or grilling, and not the crap that comes in cases of 48 cans. Grab a Harp with your deep-dish pizza, or a Blue Moon with your breadsticks; when your fellows order a bucket of cheap Lite beer, ask the waitress if they have 312 or Leinenkugel's on tap.

Because, though I like wine, I'm all about some damned good beer. Hooray, Beer.

Boo Near-Death Experience

Hooray Beer!

'Near-death experience' might be an exaggeration. It was definitely an experience, but you can never tell how near-death something is when you're 30 floors up in a claustrophobic space.

Short version is, I was on my way to work, as I am wont to do on most Tuesdays. We are nearing the big office move, and the construction folk are busy finishing up the floor below mine. When I hit the '34' button on the elevator, it shot up the building -- except, around '33', it started making strange noises. Grinding metal, or cables, I dunno; they were the kind of noises your imagination makes worse.

The elevator stops. The readout says '34', but the car is stopped. It doesn't open. After a few long seconds, it starts moving again. More scraping sounds. It stops again. And I wait. I imagine what falling 34 floors might feel like.

Finally, the door opens. On the 33rd floor. As my previous description indicated, the floor is unfinished. And I wouldn't be able to get to the stairs. Meekly, I hit the '34' button, again. The doors close, and I await my eventual fate...

Without incident, the elevator goes up one floor, opening up to the familiar sight. Good morning, indeed.

As a sidenote, the comic series continues to progress. I've scripted and storyboarded the first half-dozen pages/comics, and have plotted the rest of the introductions and the first actual arc. Steph's workin' on the sketches, and I've got a template for the site. Man, I'm anxious to show some spoilers...

Soon, hopefully.

A little bit o' new

Finally, the hellish world of an apartment sans Internet will be saved. The new lappy is at the home, awaiting my dismissal from work. Then, my pretties, we can get back to the mindless drivel that is the online world.

Or, we can revel in the joy of an upcoming Darkest of the Hillside Thickets album. Woot, indeed. We can also start posting spoilers for the new venture that Steph and I are beginning. What venture? Let's just start with calling it an online comic series by us (with some help). And, I can finish those overdue articles for The Coliseum...

Anyway, a wondrous new world awaits. Once the character designs start coming back, ...from the pit of insanity will whet your appetite for this new comic series. Gods, records, comics, property management, and new release day. That sounds about right.

It's been so long...

...I actually almost completely forgot how to log into this thing.

For the kids at home, count the number of adverbs in that clunky sentence.

Anyway, workin' overtime. Writing every week for a gaming/history site. Cast as an understudy for the upcoming GeekOuts show (5/26, the day I get to play creepy characters at Second City (Well, Donny's Skybox, to be exact)).

Look at that... nested parentheses!