Secret ingredient

I'm pretty sure the secret ingredient in Brooklyn Lager is gin... or crack. I had three beers last night -- I've been avoiding hard alcohol lately so as to also avoid the marching band that comes into my brain the morning after consuming such drinks. And still I woke up this morning and felt like a small animal had crawled into my mouth and died. (It's a WONDER that I am single, huh?) So I say again, Brooklyn Lager is really gin in a pint glass.

I went out last night and saw people I haven't seen in a while. It was fun. Stumbling home wasn't fun. Never is. I had a whole conversation in French on the subway -- two guys from Toulouse who live in Astoria saw me reading a book about France. I don't speak very good French unless I'm drunk. Actually, it is probably closer to the truth that I don't notice how badly I am speaking French BECAUSE I am drunk. It was funny that they thought I was capable of conversation in any language seeing how my eyes were rolling back in my head while we were talking.

I found out last night that someone that I thought was gay but who worked really hard to convince me that he was not is actually GAY. Which puts my gaydar track record back in championship status. YAY! I thought I was losing it.

One of these days I am going to write about something important like politics or sexuality or literature. I swear I am. But now I think I have to go throw up. I'm going out to dinner with my family for my grandfather's birthday. I have to figure out how to stop being nauseous before then. If anyone knows someone who works for the Brooklyn Lager company, shoot me an email. I have a bone to pick with them.