Holy fucking fuck. So I
stumbled walked into the bar and calmly planted my ass on my favorite stool, ordered my usual, and I hear some words that I pretty much just ignored. I then ordered my usual AGAIN, and once more … I’m hearing just BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH … I mean what the fuck. C’mon, man … Finally, I decide, well, maybe I should actually pay attention to what I’m being told since I still have yet to have a beer in front of me.
“We have no Hamm’s.”
“Say what, mother-fucker?”
“Talk to the distributor.”
Holy fucking fuck. Yes, I said it again. The Rail is out of Hamm’s. Now you could order a buttery Hamm’s, but, well, that’s your choice.
One funny outcome, however, is that River Rat decided to announce this on The Brass Rail, uh, “announcement board” — for lack of a better term — and instead of writing “No Hamm’s”, he wrote “No Hamm’s Hats”. When questioned about this, he thought about it for a second and realized that he just kind of wrote it without thinking about it. I find this amusing and poignant at the same time.
So there you have it. Stay tuned for further details.
Oh, and P.S.: New chips. So you got that goin’ for ya.