the weekend. in sentence fragments.

Because that’s about all I can handle right now.

What’s better than Thanksgiving dinner? Second and third Thanksgiving dinners.

And what’s even better than than that? Thanksgiving dessert: Stoudt’s Fat Dog with mom’s chocolate pie.

Yeah so. Followed up that awesome race Thursday by doing nothing even remotely resembling physical activity for the rest of the weekend. Unless you call eating my weight in turkey and stuffing and swigging back gallons and gallons of tasty beer physical activity. I dunno. Can your burn calories from vigorously eating?

Namaste! Brewed with coriander, orange and lemongrass. Pure bliss.

AMY!

Little did she know I was already two and seven-eighths sheets to the wind by the time she caught up with us. Which it turns out, is the perfect amount. Amirite dude?

Three Floyds!

Had a half-pint of the Dreadnaught, full pint of Alpha Klaus porter.

Sausage/sage/pepper pizza. (My husband, Chicago’s finest pizza connoisseur, even said it was pretty much the best thing ever.)

Slept the whole way home.

They converted the building’s office space into what is now the brewpub, so these cargo containers are actually offices. The upstairs one has a couch. I totally want a cargo container for my office now.

Pièce de résistance: These guys. Poppa Skull and the Creeper.

Poppa Skull is a Dogfish Head/FFF collaboration; the Creeper is FFF’s tribute to epic stoner metal band Pelican. I haven’t cracked these bad boys open yet but something tells me it won’t be long…

Running tomorrow. Who’s with me?

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9 thoughts on “the weekend. in sentence fragments.

  1. 2 and 7/8 sheets to the wind is an impressive feat. I’m either 1 sheet or 3 sloppy ass sheets and can’t seem to strike a balance. Skillful of you to be able to hang right there on the precipice of trainwrecky-ness like that…

    • Maybe she had those snazzy paper towels that you can tear into thirds if you don’t need a whole paper towel. I had those, once, and it was a brilliant time in my life.

  2. That beer list is intimidating to me, which makes me think you must have been in second heaven. Prompts the question: best beer city in the U.S.? How does Chicago stack up?

    • It’s a distant second to Munster, IN!

      No but seriously…the west coast has us beat in every category. They have the best climate for hops and plus it’s packed full of stoners with business degrees who have nothing better to do than brew fantastic beer all the time.

  3. Pingback: no resolutions « Cheaper Than Therapy

  4. Pingback: winter running/drinking tips « Cheaper Than Therapy

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