Ale of the Gods

I was pooped because I cooked for nine straight hours. I sat down and flipped channels and settled on The Kung-Fu Hustle and regretfully poured myself two of the last three glasses of my astounding Room Temperature Ale. And I drank them and enjoyed the movie and marveled at the indescribable flavor of this complex, aromatic, sweet, bitter, sour beer.

And then I got up and tried to walk to the computer and realized I was hammered. What IS it with this stuff?

I used to think I was born to be a serious writer. Then I thought I was supposed to be a physicist. That lunacy passed, and then I figured I was supposed to be a humorist.

Now I am starting to think my predestined occupation is food and beverage wizard. I get good results I don't deserve and which don't even make sense.

Someone help me stand up.