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Well, actually, it is growing on me. I believe it was Craftsman, or some such thing at the pub the other night that was actually quite yummy. I _do not_ like dark ales. Still. But light hoppy beers are good.

But, I digress. Suddenly I was flinging my innermost hopes/fears/desires across the table like wet rags across the table without regard for who picked them up and stepped on them, or flung them back in my face, or I don’t know just what.
However, I went with the intention of enjoying myself and feeling free, so who’s to say I wouldn’t have behaved in a similar fashion non-intoxicated? (is that a word?) But, couldn’t I have done it more eloquently and with more care? Or maybe hopes/dreams/fears really are silly things to be flung around at anyone who’ll listen?
So, I don’t like beer, or do I? …