The last few nights have been pockmarked by my mistake of being drunk, then consuming cake. I had several beers on friday, then I ate this delicious cupcake with espresso and caramel frosting. The result: the gut-rot of the century. Fer crissakes. You'd think a handsome and smart boy like muhself would have the wisdom to avoid that fate twice, but no.

The next night, I gladly drank several Pabst Blue Ribbons with my grandma while we looked at slides from her trip to African in 1979. When divorced, my Grandma had a good idea: take the first alimony payment to the other side of the globe. My dad brought a slide projector to show all of her slides. So I sat transfixed to projected images of all the animals of the mighty African continent: elephants, cheetahs, baboons, zebra, giraffes, and lions. It's crazy that my Grandma got close up photos of lions and to this day will chat with you over cans of PBR if you've got the time.

After beer #5, I indulged in a pineapple cheesecake, followed by another slice of a more traditional chocolate cake. The next morning, I again clutched my aching stomach, cursed the appeal of cake upon being heightened by wonderful PBRs.

Anyone want to grab beers with my grandma sometime? She's more of a leftist than I, you will be shocked.