Hot enough for me? Tell me about it! My concrete coffin of an office has turned into a damp, intemperately fervid exclave of Saharan rainforest. When I so much as turn my gaze, I break out in sweat. Even sleeping with my head upon the keyboard borders on physical exercise. Luckily, the well-cooled remnants of a recent employee shindig still populate the nether regions of the department fridge. Fermented hops really gets my creative juices flowing, as this first post in more than a century demonstrates. Alas, the steady flow of creative juices also strains my bladder, leading to an unwelcome short-cutting of this pompous oeuvre for the benefit of a post-haste one-on-one with the nearest sanitary facility.
