Monday, February 05, 2007

Scary...but not really SCARY

I was watching the Super Bowl and came to a startling conclusion. I had eaten more than usual (not a LOT more...just more. It's the Super Bowl! You did the same thing!) and decided to wash it down with a brewskie. I drank a Molson, then considered a second. That's when it dawned on me (cue the Anthony Perkins music): I really don't like beer.

I know! Weird! Scary (I told you)! I felt kind of gross, didn't enjoy the taste, and just generally felt bloated. From a beer. That I drank but didn't really like drinking. When faced with a second one, I just switched to water.


eric oliver said...

You know, that is the same feeling I had with you in the summer of 84 when we crashed the party at Gita Chini's neighbor's beachhouse.
I hated it, but my 16-year old ego wouldn't let me admit I hated the Michelob Light I was holding.
Today I would have no problem with admitting that that swill tastes like it was brewed in my boots.
Unfortunately, a fine Irish friend of mine helped me develop a taste for a good stout. I haven't outgrown that one... Pass the Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout! (or the Guiness, or the Murphy's or the Beamish, or even the Marston's Oyster Stout--lust don't try to force me to drink a Milk Stout like Mackeson's XXX)

All things in moderation my friend. :-)

FishrCutB8 said...

Jesus Mary and Joseph! It's Guinness!!!! Two N's. If me mother read this blog, she'd have your arse swinging from the tree, lad! Oh crikey...she does! Well, probably not the "comments" section...

I know what you mean, though. Ask me again in August when I've just finished cutting the lawn.

Tim B. said...

Ever think maybe it was the "Molson"?

Then again, like a good beer, I find my tastes to be regional. I'll never forget the joy of drinking a fresh HeffeWiesen while sitting in a beer garden in Heidelberg Germany, contrasted with the nearly vomit-inducing sip of an American HeffeWeisen imitation in a hotel bar in Syracuse, NY.

Or the crispness of a Sad Adams on tap in a bar on Lansdown St. in Boston compared with the staleness of a bottle of Sammie at a divebar in Joliet IL.

Then again, the best beer I ever tasted in my life was the pint of Guinness I drank as my "prize" for running my first marathon.

The true taste of a good beer is defined by your actions that led up to the first drink. Did you earn the beer or is it just a palate-cleansing medium for your next slice of pizza?

There's no shame in not liking beer. Just please don't admit to finding refreshment in a bottle of "Zima"...

eric oliver said...

You know, after I posted, I noticed the egregious mis-spelling. Since there is no way to edit after posting, I considered immediately posting a correction.
Then, I realized I should simply take what I had coming--with the expectation it would be entertaining. You delivered, and I am properly humbled.

Next pint of Guinnness is on me. :-)

FishrCutB8 said...

See, with three Ns it actually makes more sense...emphasizes the smooooooothness of the beer. In your area of the country, I might actually be tempted to have one, as it's at least above 0 degrees C.