tennis

The boyfriend and I wandered into the Bier Stein tonight on a whim, which is usually how we wind up there: "I think I'm hungry." "OK, what do you want to eat?" "Um, I dunno ... Bier Stein?" We have a thing for their sandwiches, though the pizzanini is still missed.

But anyway. I digress. The point is, we heard from Chip Hardy, who owns the beertastic place with his wife, Kristina, that today was the third anniversary of the Stein's existence. And we applaud that heartily. We applaud the variety of ever-changing taps; the ability to buy a bottle of regional microbrew at a price that splits the different between the grocery store and most bars; the beers we might never pick up anywhere else; the beers we might not find anywhere else; the availability of both Fullers ESB (which reminds me of post-collegiate drinking and is delicious) and Toohey's (Australian Budweiser equivalent that I still drink every so often just for the memories, because I'm nostalgic that way); the super-awesome, super-friendly staff; those sandwiches; and did I mention the beer?

(Thinking happy thoughts for the Stein makes up for thinking sad thoughts at Roger Federer earlier. Boo. Also hiss. I would much rather watch Federer remove his curly locks from his forehead before every damn serve than watch the other guy remove his undergarments from the snug parts of his derriere.)