Brews & Notes

Something feels different; I can't quite put my finger on it. It's almost as though...as though the world around me has changed dramatically. Or, as TD said to me, innocently and plainly, after a month or so away from the page, "Why does the blog look different?"

Yes, we here at Crooked Straight like to keep things fresher than a Catholic Priest at a Boy Scouts of America meeting (yeah, I said it). So what do you think of our new window dressing? Same awesome stories, now being told you via a more eye-pleasing format. It's like the staff at your favorite bar going from this:



...to this:



That's right—the new On the Rocks is a big-tittied woman convincing you that one more $10 Long Island Iced Tea won't hurt you. Who cares if your girlfriend is waiting at the restaurant down the street? She only wants to drone on and on about how her friends are all sluts who hate her because she's prettier than them. But On the Rocks doesn't bore you with such nonsense. It understands you, and just wants you to be happy. It loves your musk. When this is all over, you and On the Rocks should get an apartment together...

...Or something like that—I kind of lost control of that metaphor. Sorry.

Reminder, you can follow yours truly on Twitter now (@crkstr_defi). Even newer to the Tweetosphere is K Lew (@kevfocusgroup). Ride with us.

Last but not least, thought all of you might enjoy this blog by my girls at Don't be UNDATEABLE Pittsburgh. I've spoken before about the perils—most of which are hilarious—that come from TWI (texting while intoxicated) violations. In the latest look through the eyes of two sexy twenty-somethings treading the social waters of 2010, Gayle examines what drives us to only share our innermost thoughts when six rounds under.

Let me paint you a little picture: You’ve had a few Cosmos and instantly sending something you would never send sober seems like a perfectly logical move. Suddenly, you find yourself professing your love or occasional disdain for another as easy as ordering the next round of cocktails. Few situations are as mortifying as waking up to an Outbox full of messages worthy of posting on the site ‘Texts from Last Night.’ At what point did I ever think that sending a message that read like a line out of a Nicholas Sparks novel was a prudent choice? In all likelihood it was probably about the same time that I ordered my 6th Guinness and 2nd round of Jager Bombs….

Is it really any surprise that these are the peoples I choose to associate with? 'Til next time. Salud.