Chuganooga

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Now that the boilerplate is out of the way, let me introduce myself: Ellis Smith, at your service.

By day, I’m a struggling writer who hopes soon to see his byline in a daily newspaper. But after hours, I spend my nights driving my souped-up Segway from bar to bar until I pass out in a pool of my own vomit and excrement.

It’s a rough life, but I enjoy the adventure of waking up in a strange place, sometimes with my watch and wallet missing, and I love the challenge of trying to talk my way out of prison. I actually passed the bar one morning last July when I was blacked out, but I unfortunately can’t remember a single thing about how to practice law until after I’ve consumed at least a liter of pure grain alcohol.

At one point, there were two of us. His name was Casey Phillips. He made extravagant promises about how many bars he was going to review, how many beers he was going to purchase and how many articles he was going to write. All lies. One night he disappeared in a flash of opium smoke and strippers. He hasn’t been seen since.

Now, it’s just me, regular guy with a large liver and a small amount of creativity, left to fend for myself in the big scary Interweb. Come along with me on my journey of discovery. Come keep me company on my trip to discover all the chugging there is to be done in ‘Nooga. Chugalug.