One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders

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sweet singing nectarine

I awoke at two this morning and could not return to slumber no matter how long I waited.


Can someone tell me how the Budweiser company found my mailing address, and moreover, why they thought I would actually be interested in their "Genuine Collection" catalogue, containing such fabulous products as an inflatable "Budweiser/Bud Light Tailgate Nation Football Game" and "Budweiser/Dale Earnhardt Jr. Ladies' Pink Camo Hat" ...? Signs, steins and camo-themed beer bottle insulating foam jackets aside, let us not forget the full-sized "Budweiser Outdoor Bow Tie Bench," featuring a "rust-protected cast iron frame and polyurethane-coated oak slats for lasting beauty and function." Okay, sure, I'm from the Midwest, and yes, certain members of my family do all that tailgating/hunting/driving ugly old cars/drinking bad beer business in addition to being a part of the NASCAR fandom, but hello? That is not and has never been my lifestyle? All right, I did go to some parties when I went to college (admittedly, I took off running when the fantastically drunk overweight woman wanted to play strip poker and could not otherwise be denied), but that certainly doesn't qualify me for college whore wear now that those times have passed.

Garrison Keillor once said that beer tasted like something died in it. I think he was talking about Budweiser, or perhaps Old Milwaukee, both favored brands in the Hoosier Homeland.


The new, politically correct workplace translation for "impossible" is "ambitious."

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