SpeedBalling

Riding up in the elevator at this sub-posh loft development, I got a few somewhat sideways glances from my fellow passengers.

I may have looked somewhat dishelved - i was wearing faded shorts, a ragged sweatshirt, sunglasses and sandals (in the rain). But I think what made them nervous was the gallon jug of wine I was holding, and the fact that it was already 3/4 gone.

Now that wine is gone, or at least the last of it has already been poured into my glass, and I am looking at that big empty jug, thinking that it would make one hell of a molatov cocktail. The nearest Starbucks is only six blocks away...

Maybe not. Maybe I should just fill it up with pigs blood, then toss it over the 10 foot electrified fence at the Morman temple down in Lake Oswego. And if that doesn't work out, well, there's always recycling.