A waste of space
Wikipedia lists Pennsylvania as the 2nd state to be admitted into the union. That explains the arcane nature of my state and local government. I live in a “Borough” completely surrounded by a Township that it does not belong to. My mailing address is Pittsburgh, but I do not live in Pittsburgh. I live south of Wexford, which is a mailing address, but is not a town. What I eventually want to get around to saying, is that because of the ancient liquor laws in this state, I’ve quit drinking beer. 6 packs cost $2-$3 per bottle. No thanks. To drink with any sort of economic responsibility, one must buy a 24 pack from a state licensed beer distributor. Unless you’re throwing a brawl, that’s an awful lot of beer for one dad to drink. But here’s the real problem: I have a quirk that won’t allow me to buy a new case until I’ve drained all 24 bottles. Everything was fine until I bought a case of Penn Brewery’s Oktoberfest Lager. It’s bad beer. In the past three weeks, the height of all things festive, I’ve consumed ONE BEER. That includes New Year’s. I brought six beers to my cousin’s Christmas get-together. I drank one, and was later sent home with the other five beers in tow. They didn’t want them either! Thankfully Elise invited a crowd over on Sunday, and I was able to pawn 4 beers off on my guests. Suckers! What to do, what to do…