Post by Joe
As I’m sure the half dozen or so random people who accidentally stumble across this site every day have surely noticed, there has been a distinct lack of new content of late. While Dave has maintained his rigorous Blue Moon-thly update schedule, I have been noticeably slacking of late. But rest assured, oh Potato Enjoyers, I have a good reason. Nay, a great reason!
And that reason? Why, it is a simple as it gets: I haven’t felt like it.
That’s right. No excuses, no alibi’s. I have simpley had better things to do.
What, I’m sure your asking, is better than sitting alone in my room writing posts nobody is going to read? In a word: Drinking.
I happen to be on the road with work; spending the last, as well as next, month in Baltimore, MD. Baltimore, home to the O’s, Poe’s Grave, Natty Boh, Fort McHenry, and more crime and syphilis than you can shake a stick at.
But whats so special about drinking in Baltimore? It’s hard to say, exactly. There is something about this town…
Personally, I do most of my drinking at Max’s in Fells Point. If you’re a beer geek, then this is the place for you. They have between 60-70 beers on tap every day of the week, and the line up changes constantly. And if you don’t see something you like, you can always try one of the 1000 or so bottled beers they carry. I don’t mean to sound like a commercial, but I love this place. The beer is excellent, the food is great (just pub food, but at its best) and the service is fantastic. (I should warn, however, that I am biased. Most of the bar tenders at Max’s treat me like a bit of a celebrity. I’m not, of course. I achieved that status with a combination of generous tipping, a high tolerance for alcohol, and an utter disregard for my own health and safety.)
But Max’s isn’t the only bar in town. On any day, at any bar in town, you are likely to have an adventure. About a year ago I was in town, and went to dinner at the (now closed) Wharf Rat. Several hours later, I found myself stumbling home after a lengthy debate (and a dozen or so rounds of shots) between myself, the bartender, and the assistant DA for the city, regarding the existence of God.
Last Friday, for example, I met a couple of friends at place called the Ale House (formerly the Wharf Rat) for happy hour. Well, low and behold, the hours passed, and one drink became 10. Before long, there were only two of us, and the bartenders were changing shifts. Long story short (i.e. I don’t remember) its several hours later (last call) and our bartender, my friend, and I, are stumbling home from a different bar, across town.
Now, while stuff like this is not the standard, it seems to happen fairly often in Baltimore. And if you were faced with the choice of sitting at home alone in your underwear typing a hysterical comedy article that was sure to go unappreciated, or heading out for a pint or two, what would you pick?
So in short; Go fuck yourself, Internet. I post when I’d damn good and ready.
Check it to wreck it.
