Well, I went to Pennsic War XXX (that's 30 for all of you who didn't make it through third grade math class), otherwise known as Pornsic. And with good reason, I'd never seen so much sex and nudity in my life. People who would otherwise never get laid due to looking like they had ricocheted through the ugly forest were having more sex than a porn star working overtime in that place. That's a totally different story alltogether though, what really counts is the beer.

Now you have two choices of beer at Pennsic, dark ale and light ale. The only difference, aside from coloration, is how much longer you have to chew a mouthful of dark ale compared to light ale. I drank this stuff for about two weeks every night, which will put hair on your sister's chest by the end of the second week. During this time I forgot quite a few nights and ended up pouring myself into my tent quite a few others. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a complaint by any means, merely an observation. Many nights I just kind of oozed up the hill and down the road to reach my encampment to finally slosh around in my tent until I solidified into a somewhat recognizable goo. This is where my story comes into play.

This story doesn't so much take place so much at War as it does after I got home. I'll tell it to you anyway, because I know you're dying to hear it...or maybe you aren't and I'm just wasting my time, but I don't care. It's not like I've got anything better to do with my life anyway, so here it goes.

After two weeks of drinking Pennsic beer, the time to come home was at hand. Now this is a sad time for Scadians (those who attend SCA events such as Pennsic). It's kind of like leaving your home and seeing it being torn down around you with the knowledge that you can't return until next year. Anyway, as I decided to sleep through the drive home, for various reason, I didn't much notice the time going by. So, upon reaching the glorious armpit crust that is my hometown I began wishing I had a Pennsic beer to help coap with the fact that I was indeed back home. So, bags in hand, I walked the two blocks from where my friends and I had gone out seperate ways to settle back into our boring little lives of masturbation, unemployment, and various other useless and sociopathic hobbies. Once I got in the door to my house, I was greeted with dinner...and more importantly BEER! Being the drunk I most certainly appear to be by this article, I crack open the can and kick it back. Then it hits me, I taste the water, but there's no beer to be seen in this can. My first reaction was to get pissed off, but I went with the secondary reaction. Which was to finish the beer and then make fun of it like I do all things. So, after I finished the beer I began to tell everyone in the room about how much it sucked compared to the holy Pennsic beer that you ate with a fork. Later I found out why regular beer did nothing for me. In the great words of my serrogate mother Peggy Mom "you've had Pennsic beer, no mortal beer can faze you now," and those words will forever ring true.

So, I say to you, underaged children of the world. Go to Pennsic, find a booze wench to get you drunk, and learn the greatness of chewy Pennsic beer.

-Migo Boom
AIM: into the CHOAS