I get my hair cut once every 3-4 weeks. Yesterday was the day for me. My barber is a woman, in a barber shop of all women. She is a good enough barber that I actually followed her from her previous shop to her current one, something usually only done with women and stylists.
Once a year, I barter with her for a haircut. She gives me a free haircut in return for me bringing back a gift from my annual trip to Wisconsin (which is in 2 weeks). That gift would be in the form of beer. So yesterday, we conducted the negotiation. Many beers in the US are regional or even local, so there are hundreds of excellent beers that will never see Atlanta unless carried here by a traveler.
Me: Do you want Moose Drool?
Her: No, it’s no different than Newcastle, which we can get here. What’s that one you got me last time?
Me: Bitter Woman IPA?
Her: (face lighting up): YES! THAT ONE! And any decent wheat beers you might see. You know what I like.
Me: Consider it done.
Very rarely will I react to a woman saying, “you know what I like,” without responding with something dirty. But, when exchanging beer for a free haircut, it’s all about business.
Showing posts with label Beer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beer. Show all posts
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I Hope That's Not A Dick in a Box
As some of you know, I am a writer of sorts on a completely amateur level (meaning, I don't get paid, and never will). My writing consists entirely of drinking a beer, writing my thoughts down on that beer, and posting those thoughts to this website, a project of a friend of mine and I going on 13 years now. 13 years, and 1330 beers later (with about 6 of us doing all the writing...approximately 900 of those are mine).
On a rare occasion, a brewer or a beer marketing firm stumbles across our website, and decides this would be a cheap and easy way of marketing their product, so they contact us and offer up a free sample. We've had some pretty good brewers send us their beer, which always amazes me because we write reviews like this:
Mow the lawn on the hottest day of the year in flannel pajamas. When done, pour the sweat from your nutsack into a bottle, slap a label on it, and as Emeril would say, "BAM!" You have Bud Light.
Honestly, if I was marketing a beer, I don't think I would want to run the risk, even if I knew I had a flawless product, of letting my product get into the hands of someone so immature they would use the word "nutsack" in a beer review. Or, there are our reviews for Iron City Lager. I disliked that beer so much, I asked an Australian for advice on insults.
Now, for every review that dances across the thin line of Satire and Libel, there is one that inspires sycophantic praise that would simply make you feel embarrassed for me. So, maybe those are, by some freak chance, the ones these marketers are seeing. And, when they do, they somehow feel compelled to send me the best kind of beer on earth: Free Beer.
Unbeknownst to me, my friend that does all the production work on the website had been in touch with one such marketer, and he had given her my address as well when she offered to send us beer. So, it was with great surprise when I opened my front door to go out to get the morning newspaper and saw this box sitting outside (we often enter our house through our garage, so the box arrived the night before without our knowledge). I brought the box inside and took a boxcutter to the tape, praying I wouldn't find something horrible, like free samples of Christian music. Instead, upon opening the flaps, I saw this:
Sure, it looks like a box of beer coasters and a letter, but the key point here is the (hippie recycled) shredded cardboard packing. When you have that in a box, unless it's a joke birthday gift, that means there's precious cargo inside. I reached deep inside (I should've looked at the shipping label, for all I know this came from Australia and it was full of Redback spiders), and felt glass bottles. There were four of them, so I also figured it wasn't the ashes of deceased relatives (you never know what my mom will send in the mail). I pulled them out, one by one, and found these:
I always say that it's important to have a hobby. And as you can see, some hobbies can yield much cooler results than other hobbies. Well, warm at first, but after time in the fridge, cooler.
On a rare occasion, a brewer or a beer marketing firm stumbles across our website, and decides this would be a cheap and easy way of marketing their product, so they contact us and offer up a free sample. We've had some pretty good brewers send us their beer, which always amazes me because we write reviews like this:
Mow the lawn on the hottest day of the year in flannel pajamas. When done, pour the sweat from your nutsack into a bottle, slap a label on it, and as Emeril would say, "BAM!" You have Bud Light.
Honestly, if I was marketing a beer, I don't think I would want to run the risk, even if I knew I had a flawless product, of letting my product get into the hands of someone so immature they would use the word "nutsack" in a beer review. Or, there are our reviews for Iron City Lager. I disliked that beer so much, I asked an Australian for advice on insults.
Now, for every review that dances across the thin line of Satire and Libel, there is one that inspires sycophantic praise that would simply make you feel embarrassed for me. So, maybe those are, by some freak chance, the ones these marketers are seeing. And, when they do, they somehow feel compelled to send me the best kind of beer on earth: Free Beer.
Unbeknownst to me, my friend that does all the production work on the website had been in touch with one such marketer, and he had given her my address as well when she offered to send us beer. So, it was with great surprise when I opened my front door to go out to get the morning newspaper and saw this box sitting outside (we often enter our house through our garage, so the box arrived the night before without our knowledge). I brought the box inside and took a boxcutter to the tape, praying I wouldn't find something horrible, like free samples of Christian music. Instead, upon opening the flaps, I saw this:
Sure, it looks like a box of beer coasters and a letter, but the key point here is the (hippie recycled) shredded cardboard packing. When you have that in a box, unless it's a joke birthday gift, that means there's precious cargo inside. I reached deep inside (I should've looked at the shipping label, for all I know this came from Australia and it was full of Redback spiders), and felt glass bottles. There were four of them, so I also figured it wasn't the ashes of deceased relatives (you never know what my mom will send in the mail). I pulled them out, one by one, and found these:
I always say that it's important to have a hobby. And as you can see, some hobbies can yield much cooler results than other hobbies. Well, warm at first, but after time in the fridge, cooler.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
An Alcoholic Study in Contrast
This is my beer fridge.
As you can see, you have some pretty good stuff (Samichlaus, Terrapin Coffee Oatmeal Imperial Stout) slumming with some pretty dreadful stuff (Iron City Light, and the previously mentioned 8 pack of Miller High Life stubbies, of which you can see there are 6 left).
I've had that IC Light for about 6 months, and have been afraid to drink it because I've been told that it's simply the worst beer on the planet. I've had that Samichlaus for over a year, and haven't wanted to drink it because it's such a rare, special beer that I'm waiting for a special occasion, and nothing special enough has come up yet (I think maybe I need to review my standards).
More importantly, I have no idea how to get rid of that Miller High Life. I wonder if beer bottle origamy is possible. Maybe a hat, or a broach, or a pterodactyl...
As you can see, you have some pretty good stuff (Samichlaus, Terrapin Coffee Oatmeal Imperial Stout) slumming with some pretty dreadful stuff (Iron City Light, and the previously mentioned 8 pack of Miller High Life stubbies, of which you can see there are 6 left).
I've had that IC Light for about 6 months, and have been afraid to drink it because I've been told that it's simply the worst beer on the planet. I've had that Samichlaus for over a year, and haven't wanted to drink it because it's such a rare, special beer that I'm waiting for a special occasion, and nothing special enough has come up yet (I think maybe I need to review my standards).
More importantly, I have no idea how to get rid of that Miller High Life. I wonder if beer bottle origamy is possible. Maybe a hat, or a broach, or a pterodactyl...
Friday, April 17, 2009
If You've Got The Time, We've Got The Beer
My in-laws were in town last week, visiting us during Spring Break. My FIL, for someone from Wisconsin, does not drink all that much. I probably couldn't get drunk on what he's had to drink for the last year.
One of the bonuses of them visiting is that my MIL brings me beer from the Midwest that would otherwise be unavailable here in Atlanta. In this case, she brought me a six pack of Leinenkugel 1888 Bock.
During their visit, my FIL decided he wanted a beer. Rather than asking for one of mine, he went out and got some. He has an amazing knack for buying beer that I wouldn't pour on/in myself if I was on fire. Last week was no exception. When I opened my beer fridge, there was an 8 pack (???....an 8 pack?) of Miller High Life.
Stubbies.
The cutest little 7 ounce bottles filled with urine-colored beer you've ever seen.
On Monday, they drove back home. When I next opened my beer fridge, there on the middle shelf was....an 8 pack of Miller High Life stubbies, with exactly one slot missing. He bought an 8 pack, and drank one 7 ounce beer.
What the hell am I going to do with 7 Miller High Life stubbies? Especially now that my neighbor across the street, to whom I could always pawn my FIL's cheap beer that he left behind, is now a devoted attendee of a weekly AA meeting.
One of the bonuses of them visiting is that my MIL brings me beer from the Midwest that would otherwise be unavailable here in Atlanta. In this case, she brought me a six pack of Leinenkugel 1888 Bock.
During their visit, my FIL decided he wanted a beer. Rather than asking for one of mine, he went out and got some. He has an amazing knack for buying beer that I wouldn't pour on/in myself if I was on fire. Last week was no exception. When I opened my beer fridge, there was an 8 pack (???....an 8 pack?) of Miller High Life.
Stubbies.
The cutest little 7 ounce bottles filled with urine-colored beer you've ever seen.
On Monday, they drove back home. When I next opened my beer fridge, there on the middle shelf was....an 8 pack of Miller High Life stubbies, with exactly one slot missing. He bought an 8 pack, and drank one 7 ounce beer.
What the hell am I going to do with 7 Miller High Life stubbies? Especially now that my neighbor across the street, to whom I could always pawn my FIL's cheap beer that he left behind, is now a devoted attendee of a weekly AA meeting.
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