having a shiny new bar open up a block from my place is either going to be the best or the worst thing to happen to me during my grad school career. dogfish head on tap! it's obscenely crowded now, even on weeknights, but once the hullaballoo dies down christian and i have plans to take it by force and make it the psych grad student go-to. here's to hoping the crack dealers don't move in like last time. we got a corner table last night, and i was excited that oyster po' boys were on the menu, except they weren't, because they were actually oyster mushroom po' boys. i really need to go to new orleans some time. i find it hard to understand how oysters tolerate deep frying; it just feels like they should get tough or limp or just generally explode on contact with hot oil, but i suppose there's some magic in the batter or a similar chemical miracle. i'm sure all of you went through this phase, but when i was younger i was convinced that deep fried ice-cream was Impossible, like perpetual motion or cold fusion. i've also never bought into the idea that everything is Better deep-fried, despite three years in the south, although my belief in the theory that everything is better when wrapped in bacon has yet to be disproved.