Actually, that may not be true. You might not even be eating soup. And if you are, I can’t say with any real certainty whether or not there is something in it. I mean there’s probably something in it, otherwise it’s just broth. I’m thinking more something foreign, something you are unaware of. I’m not sure whether or not something foreign is present in your soup. Though this really doesn’t impact your soup at all. Turns out I just didn’t know what else to title this. So there. Now you know. You got a problem? If so, I don’t intend to solve it. And if you’re inclined to check out my hook, know that I had to fire my DJ after he made uncontrollable bird chirping noises, and thus he won’t be there to revolve it.
Now that I’ve done whatever the hell that was, I’d like to tell you things. First:
Skyrim is social and productive suicide.
I was hesitant to start the game until I was ready to make the commitment. It had been sitting on my shelf since Christmas, beckoning me, waving its flashy jewels my way and whistling as I walked by in my best jeans. I put it off, first playing Saints Row: The Third and Arkham City, thinking they wouldn’t be as consuming. I was right. But then they were over. Then it was just me and Skyrim, having a staring contest in the living room. And eventually I gave in to its flattery. Now I’m 21 hours in and have completed what I believe is very little.
As we’ve been discussing on Twitter, Skyrim is like an infection that plagues the body. As @HishamElfar so accurately said, “Symptoms may include: Vampirism, becoming a Were-Wolf, habitual addiction to potions and the odd arrow to the knee!” Also, ignoring your urine for hours on end because you don’t want to get up and walk away for even two minutes, and a failure to keep up with your social networking and blogging duties. But hey… these dragons aren’t going to slay themselves.
In related-in-no-way-whatsoever news, it’s been two weeks since I bottled my first homebrew. People keep asking how that’s been going. The answer is I don’t expect it’s ready to drink yet. Nonetheless I’m going to give one a taste, because I have a high number of ants in my pants that only beer can satisfy.
The verdict? I was wrong. This shit is bubblier than Renee Zellweger.* It will probably be even better if I give it another week, but the cap popped off with a pfffft and the burps were churning through my chest after just a few sips. It tastes great – well balanced, not too hoppy that the wife doesn’t like it (she says it’s good), but with more character and boldness than your typical grocery beer.
I’m impressed with myself. The product may get even better if given a little bit more time. Full thoughts on the product will come in another week or so when I chill a half dozen of them and consume. You know, for consistency. And science. Yay!
*Note: If the beer were completely flat, I would have also used the Renee Zellweger reference.