The Time of Absolute Balls

Many of the bloggers on this site have ties to Columbus, Ohio.  Being from someplace generally regarded as boring means that we are Real Americans (TM), just like Sarah Palin.  Columbus' rep is probably not entirely deserved - some people are surprised to learn that it does have sky scrapers - but it is, in typical midwestern fashion, completely obsessed with football.  Once, after a big win, the entire city ran out of beer.  Seriously.  My BoL companions and I went from bar to bar before we finally found a bar that still had a few beers in their cooler - a random assortment of whatever was the last to go.  Thanks to this natural experiment, we learned that Labatt Blue Light is the worst beer on earth.  Anyway, a few weeks ago there was a big game, and the hometown heroes lost big.  They were pwnd, or perhaps, more damingly, pwnt.  This would have been disasterous on its own, but the next day, the entire city got pwnd:



Basically, the remnants of Hurrican Ike combined with a cold front, a high pressure system, a low pressure system, probably El Niño, and those evil spirits from Raiders of the Lost Ark.  This resulted in windows blowing over every damn tree in the city, and power being out for up to a week.  My power was out for 6 days.  You might think this resulted in some sort of Walden-esque return to basics, during which I bonded with my fellow man and lived a simpler life.  What actually happened was that I lived nomadically in coffee shops and drank a lot more.  It was the time of absolute balls.