Gentle reader, I am comfortable enough with our relationship that I feel I can admit the following: I like beer. Does that make me less of a lady? Would it surprise you to discover that I like to drink beer straight out of the bottle? That in my opinion the only thing better than an ice cold beer is another ice cold beer, possibly before the first is even finished?
I have tried wines, red and white. I am always reminded of tomato juice for some reason. I don't like rye and until I tried scotch I was unaware that I even had a gag reflex. I am not sad enough for vodka or crazy enough for rum. One night in the early spring of this year, tequila nearly put me in the hospital and gin just tastes like tree ass.
Let's face it, beer tastes like pop used to taste when we were kids. Sweet and fizzy and the feeling is the same only instead of sugar making you do silly things, it's alcohol and a total loss of volume control. Dark or light, honeyed, red or white, it doesn't matter. Every one is just as tasty as the next and the best thing? The very best thing? They come in packs of six, eight, 12, 24 and (here in BC) 30. You'd get some funny looks if you showed up at a BBQ with a 30-pack of gin but everyone is happy to see beer.
What am I talking about? Where is this headed? Why am I writing about beers at nearly midnight in the middle of the week? And where is my bottle opener? These are questions which have plagued Man for eons, or at least as long as it takes to get to the fridge and back.
Drinking is serious business to some. To others, a celebration. We drink to toast, to honour, to remember, to forget. We drink in crowds with friends. We drink in crowds alone. We drink to health or in spite of it. I am drinking for that very best of reasons: because Husband brought it home and put it in the fridge.
G'night all.
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