The editorial process

Just before the end of the work day yesterday, I received e-mail from my unDasKapitalized co-editor asking if I'd like to join him at the Big Time brewpub for a Trombipulator Tripel. Ooh, ooh, twist my arm! The lovely Sarah (the bartender) was serving it to us, and only us, in pints rather than in the usual 12 oz. tulip glasses. Things spun predictably out of control at that point. Before we knew it, we were back at my place printing out proofs of the next issue of Chunga and brainstorming (aided by Dogfish Head Indian Brown Ale) on how to recomplicate the current bare bones of artless text into a fleshy, bumping, sexy beast. It's showtime!

Then I woke up, and it was time to shave and go to work again.