Week X: Playing Catchup

Beer Club blog has fallen behind the times lately, like an old roller coaster ride, frightening; not because of the turns or speed, but because you never know which rivit might snap at the hands of a maniacal Carny. In the weeks between posts, we've been doin a whole lotta drinkin'. Here is a recap.

Week 10: Breckenridge Brewing Small Batch 471 IPA 9.2% ABV

This beer was all over the map. Everything about it screamed Home Brew! Tasting notes were slight hints of "heh," a dash of "huh" and finished with a "meh." The only thing memorable was the high ABV, but if you're just searching for a payday, go down to the Tudor and tell Raul you want the "Wikki Wacky Woo."

Week 11: Maine Beer Co. Peeper Ale 5.5% ABV

What can I say? This beer sucked. The theory is we all got some skunked bottles. The best part about this beer is I found a hilariously douchey youtube spot of some guy "imbibing" peeper ale. Anyone who uses the word "imbibe" likes to think they know a lot more than they do. Honestly I couldn't take much of his shit, but for a good laugh forward to 4:40 and watch him shoot lightening and totally f-up his pour.

Week 12: Sam Adams 13th Hour Stout 5.5% ABV

What can I say, I really liked this beer, which is saying a lot since I have a theory that Sam Adams Boston Lager causes headaches, sobriety and reverse beer-goggles. Also, I like Belgian Doubles. If you don't like Belgian Doubles, screw you. Honestly, who am I to give advice, when I was drinking this beer I was 50 sheets to the wind and in the middle of watching Santa Conquers the Martians. Curse you Voldar! Santeee Claws save us!!

Week 13: Flying Fish Exit 4 9.5% ABV

Skinny Pete hit this one out of the park.

Week 14: Left Hand Wake Up Dead Stout 10.2% ABV

This beer was a lot like that movie The Help, not in that there were underpinnings of American Civil Liberties or it achieved racial equality through means of non-violent protest, but because I needed help drinking it. My Dad and I split a bottle and we both really enjoyed this beer. I had some chicken Satay, it went nicely. The end.

Week 15: Rouge's Cap't Sig Northwestern Ale

Of all the beer's we've been drinking lately, I was pleasantly surprised by this ale the most. Rouge has so many beers to choose from, honestly it's a crap-shoot. This stuff was delicious, highly drinkable and unpretentious. I think the worst part about the beer is that its named for some reality show fishing captain. Honestly it's like naming your beer after the non-english speaking Somolian dude who works for the Glass Doctor and replaces your windshield in your office parking lot. The other thing that this beer has going for it is that it has Pac Man Hops. Pac Man Hops!!!

Week 11? Exit 4

Tea. He decided to have tea this morning. He ate his usual breakfast, 2 egg whites and a slice of 12 grain toast. He took the dog for his normal 0.8 mile walk. He had Good Morning America on in the next room. The tea, at least, made this morning a little unusual. He couldn’t bear another morning of Columbian decaf with skim milk and Splenda. He just needed something different this morning.

He dreaded having to drive his wife’s car. He hadn’t thought the idea of his daughter driving to South Carolina on her own was a wise one. She promised she’d take her time, and stop when she was tired. But, Maine to South Carolina, by yourself, was quite a trip for someone who had just gotten her license. He wondered how far she got since last night.

He responded to a work-related email, something about ASSF. He was urging his client to purchase this penny stock but secretly all he was thinking is why they would choose such a symbol. He couldn’t type it without thinking something dirty. He hadn’t noticed how long the shouting had been coming from the living room. The television was loud with screams and crying. He assumed it was footage from a bombing somewhere he didn’t care about. Some third world country like Iraq, Afghanistan, or Scotland.

He wondered if his wife would notice the tea spot on the hard wood floor if he left it there. His curiosity was now peaked and it couldn’t be stopped merely from a small rogue raindrop of tea that had leaped from his coffee mug labeled “Don’t Touch Daddy’s Coffee”.

“..and all we know is this is a type of precipitation we’ve never seen before”, the voice said. This wasn’t a subdued Robin Roberts, this was a frantic faceless voice of concern. And this wasn’t Scotland. This seemed like New York. Was Scotland a third world country? He wondered why he would make that connection as an image of Mel Gibson in a kilt vanished from his mind. “Yes, Sam, it seems dangerous, if not down right deadly”, the man continued. The shot on his screen was clearly from inside the morning show’s studios, capturing what was unfolding outside. There were no fans holding signs. There was not the hustle and bustle of an 8:16am morning in Manhattan. Instead there was black and red on everything. There were people lying in the streets, some crawling, some still. He hadn’t noticed it was raining in New York. It was the furthest thing from his mind until the man said “This isn’t rain. It isn’t snow. We….we don’t know what it is. It’s something different.”

It still seemed far away, New York. He rushed to his window and was greeted by a warm sunny day and his neighbor’s dog shitting on his lawn. He ran upstairs for his cell phone, which was still charging from the night before. The phone rang just as he made it to the top. It was her. “Lynn?” he quickly asked. She was crying. She was hysterical. She couldn’t put together a sentence. All he wanted to know was if she was okay. He asked a third time. She finally answered, “I think so. I’m in my car.” After gaining a little of her senses she continued, “I stopped early last night. I was exhausted. I just started this morning and something happened. It started raining black and my car stalled. It won’t start now and it feels like my tire is flat. I can’t move.” He asked if she called 911. She told him she couldn’t get through. He wondered if that was even possible. “Dad, people are hurt….people from other cars…they got out when their cars stopped and...dad, people are hurt. I don’t know what to do.”

Inside he was frantic but hid it from his only child. He asked where she was. He had to get to her. “I’m on the New Jersey turnpike. I can see an exit sign but it’s covered in black…it’s…it’s 4. I’m at exit 4.” He told her to stay in her car and keep calling the police. “Daddy. My battery is at 10%. What if you need to call me?” He told her he was on his way to get her. He didn’t know how. All he knew is that he already missed the normalcy of Columbian decaf with skim milk and Splenda.

This week’s beer is Exit 4 by New Jersey’s Flying Fish Beer Company. I liked it.

Week 9: Stone Double Bastard 10.5% ABV

Hans Gruber and Col. Stewart. Gannon and Bowser. Hell, even those guys up there. All great examples of bastards. But all of those don't compare to this 10.5% malt and hop bomb from Stone. At the same time, this is the ultimate yin and yang beer, with a delicate balance of hops that wallop your taste buds and a sweet maltiness that cools it down. Your mouth doesn't stay cooler than a witch's tit in December for long, because the alcohol burn sets in pretty quick.
About half way through the bottle, I began to think that the double bastards of Jim Carey and Tommy Lee Jones made for a good evil pair in Batman Forever. And man, if you start thinking that movie was any good, you know the beer is hitting you hard.

Week 8: Life and Limb 10% ABV

Phone: "Ring Ring Rreeeeeiing"

Sierra Nevada: "Hello"

Dogfish Head: "Yo-daddio"

Dogfish Head: "Dude, you guys make good beers n stuff."

Sierra Nevada: "Ch-ya"

Dogfish Head: "So like, you wanna go out?"

Sierra Nevada: "Like go steady go out?"

Dogfish Head: "Yeah like collaborate and maybe go to the mall afterwards"

Sierra Nevada: "Like, whatever"

Dogfish Head: "Rock on, well you start making a beer and then I'll add some secret sauce"

Sierra Nevada: "uhhhhhh"

Dogfish Head: "Not that secret sauce, I'm thinking something more like Maple Syrup"

Sierra Nevada: "As long as you're paying, whatever"

Sierra Nevada: "You know I have a yeast problem right?"

Dogfish Head: "It's cool I've got some wood we can use"

Sierra Nevada: "I have wood too"

Dogfish Head: "Ok thats creepy"

Sierra Nevada: "Ch-yaaa"

Dogfish Head: "......."

Dogfish Head: "Does this mean no date to the mall?"

Sierra Nevada: " :)"

Sierra Nevada: "Bye"

Dogfish Head: "Lates"

Week 7: Russian River Redemption 5% ABV

Like all the greats quests of lore; Amerigo Vespucci's trip to Amerigo's Land, Ulysses' Odyssey to bang Sea Sirens, Frodo Baggins and Temple of Doom, so to was Don's quest to the far off country of Caleef Fornia in search of LARP'ers unknown! Dressed in regalia that of a perhaps a half Blood Elf, Don fought wizards and warriors by day, and drank great beer by night. In a convention center that would make members of GWAR blush, Don discussed the intricacies of rolling a d20 against a level 12 Frost Mage, which as we all know, makes any Death Knight thirsty. To quench his monster thirst, Don quested to the Mines of Moria also know as the Russian River Brewery in search of the Treasures of Azeroth, also known as Beer. After slaying the dragon guarding the horde, and a $55 dollar surcharge, Don returned to Newt Hampshire Hollow victorious with his bounty of grog for all to see!!! Behold and Rejoice serfs!!! Redemption Ale for all!!!

Week 6: Gritty's Best Bitter 5.00% ABV

This weeks beer holds a special placard in my repertoire of beers. Back when the author was a wee heavy lad of not drinking age, Gritty's was the go to beer of choice. The plan usually revolved around finding a friend of drinking age, usually "Dumbweed Dunphe" and having them order a pitcher at some place on the docks of the Old Port. Like a suckling pig weaning to health on the teat of mothers milk, so to was a young lad learning the flavors of the world on carafe after carafe of Gritty's Best Bitter. Ahh the sweat nectar of life!

Week 5: Long Trail Triple Bag 9.20%ABV

The Urban Dictionary defines Triple Bag as "before engaging in sex with a butt ugly chick, you place one paper bag over her head, one over your head in case the first one breaks and one over your dog so that he still respects you in the morning." The same can be said for anyone lucky enough to pound a couple of these beers, because you'll surely regret it the next morning. Moooo!