A waste of space

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…