Out my window I see Times Square

Recently, or should I say at this very moment, I have realized this blog has certain themes. They are, in no particular order at all: sweatpants, beer, The Office, and/or left-wing cynicism, and/or the phrase and/or. I salute The Lit Department for its awesomeness.

Also, I salute Carly B. for attracting the attention of Our Body, Our Blog and provoking an utterly anal-retentive comment from that same group. I sadly received no such recognition for my groundbreaking article on beer choice and its relation to female reproductive rights in the post-Regan era.

So, have you ever been to NYC? It smells. They never tell you that. Everything from sewage, to grease, to burning plastic, to that unmistakable dive-bar smell that wafts under one's nose like a freshly uncapped Sharpie. It's not a bad thing though, it's just how it is, and the sweet Irish accent of some of the bartenders makes it all highly bearable.