To save yourself the embarrassment of not knowing who writes it.
Note: I cannot help you with the embarrassment of not knowing who you’re texting.

This is what happens when you don’t eat dinner before a Friday night at BK Brewery. Photo: Ms. Megan Whitney Moore
In my five legal (and absolutely zero illegal) years of beer swilling, I’ve had quite a few American-made concoctions. I feel it would be painful to retroactively track down each and every one of them, so I’m just going to start anew and add as I imbibe/recall. As usual, they’re in vaguely alphabetical order and the newest additions will be in bold. Enjoy…
Allagash Saison

Translation:
The best site, all happy.
I decided to share the site on which helped to find a soul mate.
A large number of articles on it about family, how to get acquainted with the lovelyladies, how to find a husband or life partner.
And the part with the one that did not respect me and changed: * (.
If interested, click on one of the links:
Classic.
The hour is a splinter past midnight and the year is just 2012. Neon, phosphorescently crowned princesses sway and twirl on the grass. Their consorts come and go on cruisers. I’m nursing Tuis and sobering up, but I don’t mind. I’m buzzing on strangers who behave like friends, friends who have begun to constitute a family, and the fact that the ocean’s fewer than 100 meters away. For once, New Year’s Eve is devoid of wind that bites my goose pimpled thighs, too-high heels, and emotionally self-destructive affairs. I’m dancing in someone’s front yard and I care not who’s watching.
An admittedly narrow, contrived, and especially absurd glimpse of what’s happening in Australia at the moment:
SMH: Three seriously ill after eating death cap mushrooms
Don’t worry, there’s also a lot of this:
…and this.
In Other People’s Words:
*
Disclaimer: I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions.
Resolutions for the…
Predictable: Surf more. Stop procrastinating. Get organized. Keep in touch. Exercise. More.
Bi-polar: Escape comfort zone. Be less reckless.
Uninitiated: Take more drugs. Have more sex.
Chasing interviews, hunting cheap [enough] flights, drinking coffee, checking the surf, trying to feel out the future while remaining “noncommittal.” Or untethered. Avoiding [additional] credit card debt. Making coffee. Serving coffee. Drinking coffee. Thinking about surfing. Checking the surf. Eating massive bikkies for lunch. Skyping my mom. Pitching editors. Thinking about not thinking about boys. Boy. Thinking about surfing. Surfing. Eating mango/vodka smoothies for dinner. Facebooking. Thinking about flying. Dreaming about sharks. Missing Scotland. Prematurely dreading leaving Australia. Thinking about “home.” Surfing. Charging flights to my Amex. Frequent flier miles. Working to pay off my Amex. Funneling money into social life (beer/Mexican food/bus fare/body wash) instead. Drinking coffee. Re-pitching editors. Accruing interest. Starring/ignoring emails with the subject line “Your Student Loans.” Absolutely refusing to think about boys. Boy. Wearing sunscreen. Failing to reapply sunscreen. Working. Surfing. Editing. Skyping. Coffee. Harassing editors. Stalking sources. Calling legends. Leaving voicemails. Texting legends. Answering the question, “Who are you?” (Posed by legends.) Drinking coffee. Formulating hypotheses. Digging up statistics. Checking the surf. Tweeting. Transcribing. Surfing. Breaking down and thinking about boys. Boy. For 10 seconds. Eating wedges for dinner. Sleeping. Just a little. Devising a plan. Tossing said plan out the window.
Such is life.

Every time I come back from a surf (or finish work, or exit the post office) I am astonished that no one’s made off with this gem.
The other day, I put it out there into the ether (uhh… I tweeted it) that riding your bike in the wind, while grasping a surfboard, is damn near impossible. Unless you’re a trained circus performer. My friend JoAnne responded, “Fins first!” JoAnne, you are a genius. This seems like a fairly obvious strategy, at least to try, but it’s always the obvious that’s overlooked. Think about it: why the hell would flipping the board over make it any less awkward or more streamlined? If anything, I imagine you’re thinking, those pesky fins would collide with your handlebars and make an even bigger mess! Not so. For whatever reason, not so. I like to think this is one of those invaluable pieces of information that is passed on from one generation of bike-riding surfer to another, only in times of need. And then everyone just smugly rides their bikes to the beach, to the wonder of the unenlightened, saying nada about their completely evident (yet untapped) tactics, until some poor and frustrated soul says, “Fact: Unless you’re a carny, riding a bike while holding a surfboard is nearly impossible in the wind.” If you know one of these people, please just pass this along to them. But definitely don’t share it with someone who hasn’t earned it by asking for help.
A scheduling mix-up at work has given me the morning off. At first, I was annoyed that I woke up at 6 a.m. and rode my bike down there in the wind, only to ride it back 30 minutes later. But then I surfed for two hours and I wasn’t annoyed anymore. Funny how that happens. PLUS, tomorrow’s my birthday! For no reason, other than the fact that I’m now in a good mood and I feel like posting something, here’s my current favorite Aussie commercial:
Who’s got a good birthday surf vid I can use for tomorrow?! Send it ova!