Another wednesday, another evening in the upstairs section of the HopCat, bitching about glassware and the green lights that hit you in the retina. Some blonde was shrilly exclaiming "I'm blonde, I've got big boobs, I'm so hot I can do anything I want." Which sucks when you've been rejected times in a row, and you're starting to plan your appointment in the dye chair at the salon. But I'm not complaining about myself tonight, so I'm confined to comments about the fancypabst (thank you r.v.) and the mean bartenders who ridicule you for ordering beers in the wrong glass.