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Posts Tagged ‘beer’

I Was Gone For A Little Bit. I’m Back Now.

I’ve been out of the blogosphere for a few weeks, but I’ve been doing stuff:

—I gave three cans of beans to a food shelter. I am now part of the solution.

—I travelled.

—I came back.

—I was undercharged at a Subway in Lusk, Wyoming, and didn’t tell them because the service sucked.

—I was overcharged at a liquor store in Mounds View, Minnesota, and I did tell them because the total came to over $8,000 for a six pack.

—I met a woman at an Arby’s in Kearney, Nebraska, who believed South Dakota was an exciting state to visit.

—I went through South Dakota, and wanted to drive off a cliff after passing the 257th sign for Wall Drug. BUT THERE WERE NO CLIFFS.

—Then there were cliffs, in the western part. I decided to boycott Wall Drug instead.

—In the mountains of Colorado, I urinated in a tributary of Clear Creek, the water source of the Coors Brewery.

—I drank a beer infused with bull testicles. This beer: Rocky Mountain Oyster Stout.

From beerpulse.com

—I drank a beer named after Kurt Vonnegut, using a recipe from his maternal grandfather. This beer: Kurt’s Mile High Malt.

From wynkoop.com

That’s it.

 

 

You Can Spend Your Entire Life Building Bridges…….

Years back, when I was working in sustenance delivery, my manager got a thoughtful look in his eye and told me this:

“You know, you can spend your entire life building bridges. But, during that time, you suck one cock, just one, and everybody remembers you as a cocksucker, not a bridge builder.”

At the time, I wondered why he had singled me out as the keeper of his deep, dark secret.

Until today, I didn’t realize that his words transcended sexual experimentation.

Two years ago at a friend’s cabin, I bought a 36 pack of beer for only $12. Just one 36 pack. And the beer, Boxer Lager, has a crown on every can. A crown! What symbol has humanity produced that surpasses the crown as a mark of respect and honor? Yet the insults rained down on me all weekend, even as I defended the fiscal responsibility of my choice. I had spent less money and gotten more alcohol than anyone at that cabin. America is supposed to reward those who have more money and more things than people with less money and fewer things.

Flash forward, to now: These days, I buy better beer. And even if I continue to do so for the rest of my life, I’ll still get calls like this one, which came in just this morning: “Hey, I saw a guy walking down the street with a 36 pack of Boxer, reminded me of you.”

I’ll always be remembered as the guy who made a wise, thoughtful decision to save money, and get more for the little money that was spent, even if that meant drinking something that tasted like it leaked out of a homeless man with bad kidneys.

 

 

 

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