Who are you anymore? When we first met, you were a cool person to be around. Now I can't even get an appointment. You're like a 44 year old guy going through a midlife crisis about to leave his wife and kids, buy a sports car and run down a bunch of tourists in Las Vegas with it. You traded in your Levi's for skinny jeans and t-shirts for too tight, button up plaid shirts. I don't even recognize you when I see you in Fred Meyer. You're just another Pearl District yuppie, I mean brewery.