A bit of explanation on last night’s post (or lack of one). I really did write one and I reposted it a few hours ago but for some reason it did not make it to the Interweb last night. I can think of two possibilities. Either A) Blogger ate the post without my knowledge or B) I wrote the thing but then completely forgot to upload it. I would really like to think that it was the former but given that I don’t remember giving it a title odds are it was probably the latter. I still feel that my consecutive post streak is intact since I did technically write something.
Oh, and last night had one of those moments where I spent all day thinking about what I wanted to mention and then completely forgetting about it when I sat down to start typing. The real comment on tornadoes that I wanted to make came from the SI article on Barry Bonds this week where Barry’s mistress describes spending time in St. Louis which is, and I quote here, exotic because there are tornado warnings. I’ve often wondered what, at the most basic level, am I looking for in a woman. I’ve decided that the ability to consider a tornado watch as “exotic” is pretty much all I need to look for. At that point, you’re pretty much certain that you will always be able to impress her. For crying out loud, she’s impressed by a weather pattern, odds are that blue box from Tiffany’s is going to cause her to go catatonic.
Ok, I have to talk about what is easily the top news story of the day. In Oslo, Norway a woman turned on the faucet in her apartment and instead of getting water she got, to her amazement, beer. To which my immediate reaction is “Best. Apartment. Ever.” Seriously, I’d put aside that dream of winning Powerball if I knew that one day I could just turn on the faucet and beer would just stream out. Sure, it might make doing dishes or laundry a little more challenging but in all honesty, I don’t think that I’d be in any position to care.
So, we must ask the question “Other than the possibility of the water into wine miracle being updated for more modern tastes, how the hell does one get beer out of a faucet?” Well, apparently the answer is this. She lives above a bar and somehow when they installed a new keg they connected the keg to the water line and the water line to the keg line. This is apparently feasible though I am not going near the engineering assumptions that one would need to make to get it to work. What this also means is that while she was stunned to find beer flowing into her kitchen sink the bar patrons were shocked to find that when the bartender pulled the tap they got water. Well, most of the bar patrons were shocked. As Super Dave put it…
“It was a surprise to everyone except those drinking Bud Light, who probably didn’t even notice.”
(Ah Bud Light, it’s like having sex in a canoe.)
All I can say now is that replacing the plumbing in my place so that we have beer flowing between all the rooms is high on my list of things to do when I become Mark Cuban rich. That tops buying Bjorn Borg’s Wimbledon trophies and just below having a monkey in a cowboy hat with me at all times to test my theory that yes, everything actually is funnier with a monkey. Some people when they become rich want to be philanthropists, others want to consume everything imaginable, all I want is a monkey.
(Last note: So I don’t get to watch How I Met Your Mother tonight just so they can roll out another attempt at giving a Seinfeld actor their own show? Haven’t we read this story before? This show will be cancelled by what, midnight?)
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