While I slaved over comma splices at work, Marshall and Elissa toured New Belgium brewery (A source of tremendous pride for someone that lives in Fort Collins). Elissa bought me a hooded sweatshirt made of of a cool, 1/2 fleece material. Then they indulged in one of New Belgium’s nightly, free tastings.
Marshall at the tasting. If he looks happy, its because he is surrounded by 8 beautiful gourds of God’s own nectar.
Of course sometimes happiness, much like botched lasik surgery, comes at the price of a drunk, lazy eye.
Both of these pictures were taken by Elissa who takes really good shots.
Later, we all went to eat at Rasta Pasta. This is a Jamaican pasta joint started in Breckenridge, CO I think. The “Rasta” in Rasta Pasta is short for white, snowboarding, Rastafarian hippy children who only serve two kinds of salads with each meal, but can rarely remember which kind you ordered. Also, I’ve never been in the restaurant and NOT found a hair in my food; it’s, like, tradition, bro. Despite the free follicles, the pasta is AMAZING and has great spices and fresh veggies and fruit mixed in. There is nothing better than sitting out on their patio, having a bowl of Chicken Montego Bay, and sipping on an O’Dell’s Easy Street.
It’s so good, in fact, that sometimes you burst out laughing with no idea why. Forcing others around you to shield their faces from anyone that might recognize them. This is called the “Ras-Pas” effect.