Apr. 27, 2011
So a couple weeks ago my roommate and I were at Estelle's in Wicker Park (a Chicago neighborhood). I've always liked it there. They have a great beer selection (including Ska), a pretty friendly and attentive staff and an odd, but friendly crowd. It's a fun bar and I was happy to be there.
My roommate, on the other hand, was miserable. He could not stop complaining about all the hipsters. To be fair, he was right, they were everywhere, and the PBRs flying over the bar at a dizzying pace were proof of their presence. He just wouldn't let it go though, and even on the way home he was complaining about them.
Two days later, however, I come home, open the fridge and I find this:
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