Oh Beer, Someday We'll be Best Friends, But I Like to Take It Slow

So I'm convinced that Brewzilla was actually a social experiment in zombie preparation. Someone was sitting around in the Hidden Headquarters of the Cleveland Behavioral Management Corporation (the CBMC), and said to themselves "we should really do something to prepare for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. Let's put a bunch of people in a mall, get them really intoxicated, and see what happens." So they organized this thing, in the Galleria, which nobody uses anymore, and got a lot of blackhearted breweries to go along with this plan. We all herded in there, and they gave us an obscene number of tasting tickets, and got a cover band to play the One Tree Hill theme song, and gave us free hot dogs and cheese. Then, around 9pm, the beer started to spill, and people started to bump into each other, and the band started playing Green Day, and I realized what was going on and ran for my life, barely making it out of the parking lot before the serum kicked in. All the while, the CBMC was watching from satellite, tracking the tagged subjects with red little dots as they stumbled through the darkened stairways.

No, that didn't happen. But what did happen is that they gave us 25 beer tickets, 25, and I think I got through about 10 of them? And I had a lot of good beers, but the one I really remember is the Stone Chipotle Smoked Porter, which at the time I was drinking it I though was really too strong for me, but now I'm still thinking about it, so obviously it made an impression. Apparently I like beers like I like men. Obnoxious aggressive come-ons followed by pepperiness, and the anticipation of heartburn. I ran into lots of people I hadn't seen in a while, and didn't run into all of the people I was supposed to see, and it was a pretty good time. There was beer ice cream. Seriously though, zombie walk people? Missed opportunity.

We left soon after I found myself taking out my camera, because there are situations in which I am not allowed to play with my camera, and one is being fucked up at the beach and the other is being drunk in a large crowd.

And wandered off through Downtown to the secret billiards rooms, and I drank a little more, and listened to cute engineers and lawyers talk about funding for astrophysics and developing the lakefront and building robot life, and yes, I played with my camera a little more. Then I drove home listening to Cat Stevens, but only the faster songs.

I wasn't lying about the dog thing

So lately, like, in the last two weeks, whenever I go over anyone's house, their dogs are really into me. Like, Nate's dog, washed my entire jean leg and wouldn't stop. Chris's dog was all up in my shit. The puppy who lives downstairs is wild for me. Andrew's roommates dog sniffed me like I was a lost shipment of gold covered pig ears. I don't know, maybe they think I'm an earthquake? Or I smell like cheese? (or, and this is gross, maybe I'm about to start the other side of my cycle, and they like the pheromones? I told you it was gross. Dogs like me when I'm ovulating. )

Well, my doggy karma worked out for me, because I just won two tickets to Brewzilla next week, courtesy of Jason over at Three Beers Deep. I'm ordering you to go over there now, not only because I want to build a reputation as the blogger who if you give her stuff will send people to your site and therefore you should give her more stuff, but also because the video of how they chose the winner is AWESOME and illustrates why I'm, like, the Queen of Dogs.

So if you ever really wanted to meet me, but didn't want to seem like a needy bitch, here's your chance.

Or you could have just sent me an email (see below)