Tonight I learned that I don't like gluten-free beer. At least, not the brand I tried at the Berkley Front. Could it have anything to do with the fact that when I requested it, the bartender had to consult with the waitress and then disappear for awhile, eventually bringing it out from a mysterious room, then dusting it with his shirt before setting it down? Still, nice that they had it at all.
The dude at the next stool tried to woo my friend/coworker and me* away from our drinks with offers of more drinks and darts at the place next door. I had to laugh, wondering which overheard snippets made him all into us: the endless conversation about a mentally ill child, or the complaining about feeling old and broke? All so hot.
*I'm tired of people thinking that this should be "I" instead of "me." People have over-generalized some rule they once learned about "You and I, not you and me" to the point where I am paranoid that people think I am ignorant when I use it correctly (as above). You don't think I'm ignorant, do you?
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