Ringers

I'm off the intellectual mode today and back to the woodsy he-man type. I choose modes every morning based on what I have to wear to work. Today it is boots, carhartts and gloves because I'm outside and dirty all day. Yesterday it was dress slacks and shirt, Born shoes and a leather jacket. I'm so versatile it's scary.

Last night I was called in as a pinch-hitter for the Kittle team at the local pub. Seems there is a corny college contest (say that five times fast) they have entered into, in which the only objective is to see which 4 person team can consume the most pitchers of beer during happy hour. The contest runs for an entire semester, and tallys are kept on a chart behind the bar. The prize is a T-Shirt, but ostensibly the real prize is in the pursuit.

Those poor frat boys will never know what hit them.

Our team consists of a newly-liberated hulk of a man, who just got done losing everything in a nasty divorce; an empty-nest afflicted married couple who party professionally; and myself...a broken man who is currently using alcohol as a major food group. Besides that, as Mike from our team so eloquently pointed out to a rival team...we have the financial wherewithal to bury them. "Sure you don't need to call home for some more money?" he says to our student rivals as we kill another pitcher.

Credit limits and availible time will alone decide this contest.