I'm a Ranger, a new Belgian beer ranger.

You can't see my uniform because we're on the radio, but you can bet I'm wearing it

with pride.

Wandering the land from coast to coast, bringing good beer to the masses, while I can develop

quite a thirst.

Now we've crafted a beer with Simco, Chinook, and Cascade hops, the Ranger IPA, so bold

and refreshing it can satisfy a ranger's thirst.

Try a new ranger IPA and then head online to get in uniform at newbellgim.com.

Employee-owned, alternatively empowered, new Belgian brewing.

Follow your folly, hours of beer.

This is The Shorts, near listening to the dirtbag diaries.

Almost every night, for the past four years, I've woken up to the sound of Paul.

Pissing into the plastic bottle he keeps on his side of our bed.

It's basically a modern chamber pot, or a glorified bedpan.

It's meant to protect the tendons in his feet, which tighten so much and a few hours rest

that they can barely take the weight of his body on a midnight walk to the bathroom.

The side of the bottle in the morning, brimming yellow with a black X-market on the lid, makes

our bedroom feel like an infirmary.

Sometimes I look at that bottle and wonder if our relationship has changed.

On our first date, five years ago, Paul and I parked his car on a logging road.

Marked the spot on his GPS and set out on foot, trying without success to get lost as

the spring snow left shallow drifts in our tracks.

...