The warning signs are out. He's not walking straight. On some days his human companion says he can even smell something on his ex-ventilation. And the last straw was the discovery of a little botflask last week, hidden among a bunch of batteries.
That's right, Bob seems to be hitting the bottle pretty hard. Don't get me wrong, it must all be in good fun, but the thing is, since he keeps hanging out with people, he tends to, let's say, inherit drinks from them based on his good looks. And then drinking becomes literally like...swimming.
In this and a few upcoming posts, we'll follow Bob's drinking adventures and see if we can straighten the little guy out. Or root him on. I'm not sure which one yet.
Evidence is mounting--from the Eat Real street fest, from last week at Rei's, and even as far back as the summer in Korea. The pics above and below are the before and after shots from the poetry reading in SF from last week. You be the judge.
Where is Bob now? I hope he has sobered up by now.
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