I’m a simple girl. I like jeans and flip flops and ponytails. I like chicken and potatoes and saying what you mean and beer. Oh, how I adore beer.
I didn’t grow up a beer lover. In fact, I once avoided beer like it was the guy who’s ten years older than everyone else at the grad party. Then, I met Trout, went to Europe where beer was cheaper than a hooker who’s late paying rent, came back poor and realized that 4 beers could do what took 9 *monkeys lunches to do. Meaning, four beers could provide me with a rosy glow, the nerve to abandon any inhibitions and the loss of feeling in my face (the last one wasn’t something I actively sought out, it was just a comfort to know beer could do this to me). And the taste? Well, I soon began to imagine that my personal heaven tasted like crisp, cold beer served in a frosty mug. In short, I grew drunk with my love of beer.
The downside was, I never really woke up after a beer-a-thon feeling great. I mean, obviously after 10 days of houseboating when I survived on nothing than Kokanee, UV rays and overcooked hotdogs, one could assume I wouldn’t feel great. Or, after 14 days in Mexico when I lived on Coronoa, UV rays and margaritas, you would think my body would be weeping. Or that one summer where I survived on beer, UV rays and.. well, you get the idea. After each of these incidents, my liver would put itself up for adoption. But it was more than my liver. I was tired. And the kind of tired that no amount of sleeping fixed.
And then I found out I was allergic to beer.
Before someone tells me that there’s such a thing as gluten free beer, let me tell you I know this. I’ve tried it. And it tastes like your grandmothers ass. Actually, I have no idea if that’s accurate but think about what that would taste like and I’m sure that’s close to the taste of gluten free beer. It’s really awful. The sort of beverage you drink in large gulps just to get it down. Because let’s face it- you are going to finish the beer. If beer drinkers know one thing, it’s you never leave a solider behind.
So, now I’m back to not drinking beer…. very much. I’ve been told by doctors, lectured by friends, scolded by parents on how much harm it really does my body, yet I find myself still drawn to it. On hot summer afternoons when it’s so hot you don’t move, during the Stanley Cup playoffs when the tension is palpable and your team is winning and you are on the edge of your seat just pleading to your God for one more goal, during those Saturday nights out when your hair is fabulous and your jeans fit perfectly and you walk like the world is yours. Oh yes, there is still beer in my life.
People ask why I can’t quit and the thing is, if I reeeeeeeally had to, I could. But beer brings people together like no other alcoholic beverage can. It’s the black dress of beverages, the one that’s easy to grab, goes with anything and the one thing that’s always perfect at a party. Regardless if it’s high end pretentious beer or bottom of the barrel 6 pack for $4.oo beer, I’m going to almost always enjoy it. That’s the bewitching beauty of beer. It transcends class and race and gender and location and politics- anything that people use to divide mankind, beer unites. That’s why there will always be a place for beer in my heart.
So summer is here and patios are open and I’m wanting to hear your thoughts. Are you a beer drinker? And if you are, what’s your favorite type?
* Do not judge me! The monkey’s lunch thing was a phase. Like acid wash jeans or bangs spiked with Splash hairspray only more shameful.