the shit that is suppost to be on the left is always covering up what I am doing on the web site
I don't understand.
I had a pretty interesting Friday, running myself thin around work, pretending to be a vacationing coworker as well as myself. Thankfully my boss cancelled a meeting at the end of the day, and I was able to leave a little early.
I hopped on my bike and sprinted across the production floor and out the loading bay doors.
Once you go black...
There's an old joke that I love no matter how many times it's told. I don't know who first wrote the joke, but it goes like this, "What does American beer and having sex in a canoe have in common?" Answer, "They're both fucking close to water!". How true that is too... There is an exception, thankfully, to this rule of thumb: Microbrews! Sure they're more expensive, but that's what you've got to do when you want the tasty stuff! And when it comes to microbrews, the darker the better I say. So allow me to introduce you to the Porter made by the Elysian Brewing Company based oh-so-close to my home in Seattle. It's is tasty, dark, and sorta pricey. But seriously (wait, I was serious. It is pricey. God I'm such a yuppie.), isn't it about time we reviewed something other than malts and transparent beer?
My first experiences with Mickey's was like most people's. Heading out to a College party late at night with my friends we found ourselves hard-up for drinks, and even more hard-up for cash. Somehow I had managed to tote along a flask full of Kahlua (don't ask...) but thought I might burn through it too quickly so we stopped off at a local gas station for supplies. Being a man with an interest in convinience I spied a 6 pack of little green bottles that conviniently fit my budget, and later, would conviniently fit in my hand.
The logo for these clever little bottles is a boxing glove wearing, mad as hell looking, hornet. I thought it was cute. That was until I cracked open the top and took my first swig. Holy mother of crap! It wasn't a logo, it was a damn warning! It's not that it tasted bad, but like most malts it sure as hell didn't taste good. There was a certain level of staleness that masked over the potent taste of alcohol and "beerish something something". The initial sting and pummeling that first taste hit me with is not one I'll soon forget. In a short ammount of time I had stashed the girly flask, and cruising the party mainlining my Hornet buddy with a Mickey's in each hand.
Now it wasn't too long ago that I was in the Netherlands and Amsterdam once again. This time I was much more savvy that the naive 19 yr old I was the first time around. After getting of the train from Schiphol, I was in the red light district within 5 minutes. Its not that I was looking to catch a live sex show, or higher a prostitute (all legal activities), but the red light district tend to have the best bars. And when in Amsterdam, well ya just drink the brew everyone in Amsterdam drinks. Anyway, this is where I came to respect the real Amstel brew.
I should first offer this disclaimer: any of the Netherlands beers brewed in North America DO NOT taste the same as those brewed in the Netherlands itself. Am I biased because I have gone there? Maybe, but the fact remains most European beers are brewed by Budweiser, who in their infinite wisdom brought us what? Weak as piss beer, the frogs, and the saying "Wazzz up." These hardly qualify as high quality items.
Now back to the Real Amstel beer. I like the taste. Simple as that. Its refined and relaxed, it makes me want to wear khakis (if I had any) and date a tall blonde Netherlands girl who is in incredible shape. Together we will dress up in our matching khakis and hit all the yuppie bars in Kits. While we are laughing with all the other yuppies, in the bar perfectly lit to match our complexion, she will lean over and whisper in my ear. In a manner that is both skillful and cunning she gives me only sublte hints as to all the kinky things we are going to do when she takes me home tonight.
After long night of incredible sex, I wake up and realized I was too drunk to notice the kinky sex she was talking about, was actually of the plushies and furries variety. The reality of the situation hits me, not only had I had been wearing khakis, and hanging out in Kits, but I had just had sex with a girl dressed as Daffy Duck. I shoot myself in the head with a .45.
Verdict: Not bad, could be worse
What can I say, I take chances for you the beloved reader of fearless gearless. If you don't know me, I am a cheap bastard. Don't get me wrong, I am more than willing to drop coin on some kickin' cranks, handle bars, or any bike paraphernalia. However, I am a rat cheap bastard when it comes to those regular life essentials such as rent, food, haircuts and noncycling clothing. To put it in perspective I still refuse to get a phone because that's $30 a month I could spend on cycling. Back to the review. In my ever present quest to save money I decided to save cash by trying out some of that cheap high alcohol beer in a large bottle. You know the kind of beer you only find in fine establishments. Think Old English but cheaper and with more alcohol. I went for the worst of the worst: Bull Max. This puppy contains 7% alcohol, in a liter bottle; all this beer goodness for the unbelievably low price of $4 Canadian. Let's see Walmart match that price, bitch!
Interestingly, I wasn't the only idiot that evening as a couple friends decided to join in on the fun. Which just goes to show the quality of people with whom I choose to associate.
Ok. I want you to stand still. Think about something you love to fantasize about. It can be anything, porn, a former lover, or a dream bike; anything I don't care. You just have to make sure you are naked. Now while you are off in la la land get a 'friend' to grab a 2x4 plank. This 2x4 can't be one of those high quality hard wood 2x4's. No, it has to be one of those crappy supper discount 2x4's that are covered in splinters and slivers sticking out in every direction. With 2x4 in hand, have your friend abruptly rub it all over your naked genitals. Nasty? Hell, and that's just the feeling you get when you remove the top of Bull Max (hey that reminds me of a former date). I will save you from the description of what happens when you actually take a swig. Why? Even I have limits' Yes, even I.
Spiffy box eh?
Canadian light, yes a light beer. Now why would a hard ass, tough as nails single speeder dare drink a light beer? Perhaps my drinking habits now reflect my shaven legs? No, the truth of the matter is I got a 6-pack free so what the hell I say.
A little like off colour tap water, Canadian light is reminiscent of a night drinking in a cheap hotel in Costa Rica. We were drinking imperial beer off the tap and I think they used a 50:50 mix of beer and stale water (Note: the can version was very drinkable). Overall, the Canadian light taste was very empty and unsatisfying, kind of like sex in the dead starfish position.