Category Archives: beer

1

New Glarus Raspberry Tart, Get your Epipens, This is Going to Be a Sweet One

|

People love this beer. Girls have 100% enjoyed this beer, every single time. Let’s clarify, not in a sexist generalization treating women as a homogenous group, I mean every girl that I have ever poured this for has really enjoyed it. I do not like this beer. When I am drinking beer, it is to forget about the puppy that urinates on everything in my life. When I am eating fruit, it is due to the guilt of drinking too much. Put simply, I don’t need these two worlds to collide in equal parity. New Glarus is the shit, but this beer is anything but. Anyway, step on these berries, let’s get it:

I lost my old pic of this beer, I took it with a Blackberry anyway, so you know that shit would have been in monochrome or something.

New Glarus Raspberry Tart 4.0% fruit beer

A: There is a deep ruby he that almost appears like a muted amber, huge deep red foamy carbonation that leaves very little lacing. There is miminal sheeting and this seriously just looks like a glass of juice or something you give to your toddler in a sippy cup. Hell, in Wisconsin, anything is possible. This beer is on some top 100 lists so apparently someone loves this beer. Some people liked the ending of Vanilla Sky too, fucked if I know.

I don’t know what needs more refinement, my palate or the gallons of fruit sugars in this beer. It’s perfect for the Wisconsin clubs, bottles in the basket pills in the plastic.

S: The bouquet smells overwhelmingly like raspberries, fruit preserves, sweet flowers, and a slight wine/cabernet finish. This is just already far too sweet, I can go buy a bag of Skittles, this just takes things to excessive levels.

T: The sweetness from the raspberries is present and accounted for, almost overwhelmingly. The sweetness has a cider character to it and subsides into an intense dryness with an incredible crisp finish like biting into a granny smith apple, only, raspberry.

I feel like I am too old for this beer or maybe it is reserved for people who read Marie Claire. The correlation is astounding.

M: The mouthfeel has zero coating, zero stickiness, and washes away crisp and clean. There isn’t a whole lot to comment on here since this beer barely toes inside the beer framework. I know there is a cadre of dedicated NG kids who love this beer, I am an adult, I don’t need to drink a cup of Torani syrup to enjoy a beer. Grow up, get high octane, or go the lambic route. This beer just wasn’t my jam, but I will preserve the record for others to PRODUCE.

D: If not for the sugary-juice overload, this would be a incredibly drinkable beer. It presents great utility to those “black sheep” or the XX chromosomal order who “don’t like beer” or “beer makes them feel bloated.” This is an undercover beer that emotes like a crisp cider and presents the ambrosial delight of a champagne. Strictly speaking, I wouldn’t buy this again or seek it out, but that’s largely due to the style. If I was on a boat with some dour faced sad girls, I would provide it like a benevolent Spuds Mckenzie.

This beer ganks your sweet zones with a robble robbel swag.

Narrative: ::TOOOOOT!!!:: the olde timey steam whistled hissed signaling the end of another shift. The stern overseer, Rose Juiceworthington, kept a watchful eye over the employees of the Smuckers’ canning line and made sure that her will was enacted to the T. “Williams! My office, NOW!” the loudspeaker boomed. Williams, soaked in mashed raspberries had a sweet winsome disposition, but a sordid past. “I have seen you down there, slowing on the mashing. . .what’s so funny?” Williams raised raised her glanced slowly, then swiftly smashed a can of raspberry preserves over Ms. Juiceworthington’s head, sending her cascading backwards into a molten pit of bubbling preserves. The gasps for breath made sweet gurgles and Williams nodded a sticky sweet approving nod, not to be confronted again.

0

Hair of the Dog, Bourbon Fred from the Wood, I Think I Am Getting a Clue, Oh Wait It is Bourbon Wood.

|

Hair of the Dog releases can get out of hand. The last time Adam from the Wood was released, everyone on the trading boards lost their shit and the traders who were sitting on entire cases could not be compelled to let bottles go. Well, some time has passed, wounds have healed, and livers have regenerated. This is the often overlooked analog to Adam from the Wood, Bourbon Fred. Apparently the first release had some carb issues and it affected the ratings but I can safely say that this 2012 release is incredible and it appears that the ratings are spiking harder than a 6 man tournament. Let’s get after it:

If you see Fred up in the club, hit him with a bourbon high five.

Hair of the Dog Brewing Company / Brewery and Tasting Room
Oregon, United States
American Strong Ale | 12.00% ABV

A: This isn’t the most beautiful beer that I have ever poured, but sometimes it is inside what counts. To my amazement, this beer was actually carbonated, unlike so many other Kuhnhenn and HotD offerings. Matt was flat, Adam has been tepid, but this just bursts with excessive lacing and frothy tiny bubbles. It was like every time that I had been burned by prior offerings was amended with this jam.

At 12% abv, this will hit you out of nowhere.

S: This is as barrel as it gets, you get coconut, macaroon, vanilla, sweet heat and nice sweet pancakes smell cum de IHOP. Whenever I see trifling ass beer blogs complain about heat on a BA beer, it is like someone complaining about an escort being “too forward.” That is what you paid for, peep game. This is ready to roll and at 12% abv, things could get way more twisted.

T: This is pretty easy to summarize, the castle door drops down and some gentle maple and Werther’s original flavors enter and then HOLY SHIT BOURBON IS RIDING AN ELEPHANT. There is a harem of servants casting vanilla and sweet oak chips to the clamoring masses. The bourbon is so far forward that it is in the engine compartment. No punchlines, no riddles, I am talking white squares with a stamp in the middle.

This beer rocks crazy vanilla, but is smooth as hell. Word to your mother.

M: This has an incredible dryness but also a sticky malt that pulls from both ends like a sorority tug of war. You are up in your glass communicating with the bourbon like Michael and KITT, perfectly integrated. This leaves residual sugars lingering and nice sheeting of alcohol to think about. The 12’s up in your mouth leave that palate shaking like it got Parkinson’s Disease, but it is so damn fulfilling.

D: If you are accustomed to merking Buffalo Trace to the skull, this might be your session beer. For most people, this is too big, too sweet, too complex, and too heated to session up on, however, the 12oz single is a solid banger. If this was in a bomber you’d be forgetting to pick your kids from school, taking apart the VCR and shit.

I just want moar.

Narrative: It was hard for Malcolm Rogers to relate to the guys. They always rooted for the Big 10, what with him and his fencing hobby, he felt a bit outside the ranks. However, there was one thing that Malcolm could consistently offer that would bring even the most stalwart of opposition to its knees: “DID SOMEONE SAY TOTINOS PIZZA ROLLS?” It did not matter the class, creed, or character of his guests; once those preservative laden rolls hit the table, things were off of the hook, hinges and heezy concurrently. No one really thought much about Malcom’s job, or his background. While others traded people on their fantasy teams, he would swirl 18 year bourbon in a bucket and ruminate on habbedashery. He was too classy and refined for his own good. He made horrible fantasy draft picks based on name alone, and his antechamber smacked of Anthropologie; but they tolerated him. His sweet decadent pizza rolls wafted through the KB Home, securing his eschelon amongst the bretheren.

0

Maui Brewing Onion Mild, A BEER THAT WILL MAKE YOU CRY

|

Today I am phoning it in with an old ass review. No one reads this site on the weekends anyway and frankly, you aren’t worth it. This beer is from Maui Brewing Company and, as far as I know, it doesn’t make it off the islands. I went to Maui and tried this strange anomaly while I was there. This is brewed with white Maui onions and, you can imagine what this tear jerker tastes like:

I lost the picture of the beer, enjoy a picture of some onions.

Maui onion mild 4.8% abv

A: Deep brown like an Altbier, but much thinner in character. The lacing is moderate with huge carbonation. If you didn’t know what was going on, you might think this was an amber ale, BUT YOU WOULD BE FUCKING WRONG.

I went to Maui and drank crazy ass beers, u mad bro.

S: This has caramel onions throughout, steak and toasted maltiness, it feels like a Mortons Steakhouse like an epic malted Gose with huge stickiness. If you were a 7th grader, your parents would smell this on you a mile away. One of a kind finish and smell. I ordered a Growler for myself just to relive the experience on the mainland. Epic scent.

T: It starts simply enough with a mild sweetness similar to a brown al- OH MY GOD YOU HAVE JUST ENTERED ONION PURGATORY. There is no escape, everything you touch and taste will be onion until your cells die off. The taste of this beer is similar to a Bloomin Onion from Outback Steakhouse, yes that outback, and pureed into liquid form. You get the roasted herbal dryness from the onions, with an odd burnt sweetness. Again, this is just relentless in scope and form.

Maui is all about sun, beer, and falling face down. Smelling like onions while doing that is just pushing things too far.

M: The mouthfeel is slim and watery until the evil genie of onion hatred is uncorked and unveils its evil designs on your social life. You could drink this all day long with its light coating and ABV, but the onion is a stern overlord requiring you to, specifically, spawn more overlords.

D: This is a tough call because I want to say that its delicious taste and light character belongs on a boat etc. but I have a legitimately hard time recommending this to someone in a huge quantity. I had 3 pints of it and I still sweat onion enzymes. I feel like a walking pool of magnesium. If your life can tolerate the smell and vices associated with onion addiction, I.e. you work at El Pollo Loco or Rubios, then by all means, endulge.

I smuggled this back into the mainland in my suitcase. Fuck da TSA.

Narrative: Warren only cried at weddings. And airplane movies. And swapmeets. In theory Warren cried a lot. In practice, this was involuntary. You see, poor Warren was born with defective tear glands. His negligent mother consumed onions day in and out with little Warren, as a fledgling seed in the womb. As a result, Warren would cry at the most commonplace occurrences. Some would see it is a defect, but you should see the look on his supervisor’s face when Warren would ebullient express tears of joy at the sight of fresh bagels in the break room. “Here I was just….looking at these OSHA posters and then, Alan goes and does all THIS!” He sobs gesturing towards the meager spread of picked over pastries. “This is all JUST TOO MUCH!”

0

Cascade Strawberry, Just Kiss Me Through the Phone Strawberry Style

|

Oh Cascade, you can be so helpful, or such a difficult minx. Sure, you offer most of your amazing sours online for purchase and that is as awesome as it comes. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER RELEASES? Then I have to actually go and FIND a PERSON to go get them for me. This is one such beer. What will I do when Figaro drops? What will I do then? Anyway, this brewery has a pretty stellar record for knocking out incredible sours like oh I don’t know:

Remember this club banger? Me either.

Anyway, so we have done cherries, we have done apricots, now let’s taste that sweet sticky strawberry. Things are getting sexy up on this page.

Don’t eat the green part of this beer, it makes you pregnant.

Cascade Brewing / Raccoon Lodge & Brewpub
Oregon, United States
American Wild Ale | ABV 7.39%

A: This has a nice radiant glow of deep amber and orange with a slight pinkish hue like rose`, Trey Songs be pouring up cups in the club. There’s minimal lacing and the carbonation is there but doesn’t show off. It posts in the corner just whittling a little wispy white profile.

Age probably won’t change this beer. It will still be strawberries and acidity 15 years from now.

S: This has an incredible berry profile with fresh skins, nice strawberry juiciness, kinda has a stripper scent to it, you know that pink dust that you can never get off of your clothes, I mean, not me, but I have heard. Smells like Bath and Body works meets a Farmer’s Market. The whole endeavor feels exceedingly gentle like a tableshower. You just Googled that shit.

T: This follows the traditional lactic Cascade formula and, while it usually works, this mutes the fruits and makes this come off as a kind of a generic tartness that could be really anything. I love the finish and the dryness but the whole strawberry aspect of this takes a backseat to the abusive acidic boyfriend that tells her what to wear and who she can have in her phone. This isn’t the best Cascade that I have had, but it is still a pretty dank offering. This tastes strangely similar to Sans Pagaie, so you Bruery lovers, just pop that and use your imagination. Feel me.

This is sour.

M: This has a nice prickly acidity that stings and delivers along the gumline but doesn’t take things to the Weyerbacher Riserva levels. It is balanced and pleasant to enjoy. I could see myself reading Parade magazine and drinking this, in about 50 years when my life has become meaningless. There’s a nice chardonnay quality and I am sure you could get a Delta Gamma pretty drilled off of this, but that’s not a feat to record in the annals. No typo.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and doesn’t give me the lambic guts. I enjoy just sitting back, listening to Diplo, mashing on some berries and wasting the night away. Your mileage may vary, you could show this to your friends and they think your dick is small, bent, and dark. Who knows. Final verdict: other Cascades are more accessible, and probably better, but this is still a BERRY GOOD BEER.

Sometimes I think my readers aren’t even strawberrying.

Narrative: Most exotic dancers don’t plan things as far in advance as Jezebel. Well, for starters, her legal name was “Jezebel” and that should show her parents’ limited knowledge of the Old Testament. She was All State in Hurdles and got 5’s on 6 different Advanced Placement tests, this was all a part of her grand design. “But why for you are to be in dancing and not in the college making?” her scarcely bilingual Ukranian co-worker once importuned. “Well you see, the State is broke, the Federal Government wants to offer me high interest loans, and desperate Cuban men pay hard cash immediately that is untaxed and does not need to be amortized,” Jezebel explained. “Oh, I am to like dancing but also would like to be making bakery,” Svetlana insightfully added. Some would look with an ill repute and disdain upon Jezebel’s Keynesian economic theory, but she studied during the day while her clientele were nursing their hangovers and danced at night for cold hard currency that she put in a Roth IRA to drive down her capital gains. Smelling like strawberry lip gloss all the time was not easy, but she was a refined exotic, yet entirely approachable in sum and substance.

0

Great Lakes Brewing Company Edmund Fitzgerald Porter, Gripping the Wood Like Kiki Shepard

|

What else is there to say about this beer? It is one of the best porters in the entire world, it packs a huge flavorful punch with a paltry 150 calories, has an incredible balance and just might be the textbook example of an American Porter. Let’s stop gripping the wood and investigates the guts of this shipwreck.

If you see this or trade for it-

-Obtain several, you will not regret it.

Great Lakes Brewing Company
Ohio, United States
American Porter | 5.80% ABV

A: The appearance pours a nice thin wispy cola color with light mahogany and slippery watery disposition like that used car salesman always trying to put you in a Mazda 3. The lacing is rife with fine microbubbles, bubbles on her its skin make a white stripe like a zebra. The lacing is substantial and looks like a lacy dress that Taylor Swift was wearing before she got his by a depleted uranium round. Goodnight sweet princess.

This will catch you off-guard, but damn, it is worth talking about.

S: The smell is sweet like turbinado sugar with light baker’s chocolate and a hint of Nestle chips. There is a light char on the backend that is notable but not intimidating, like a baby blue Pit Bull. Adorable amounts of roast.

T: The taste is incredibly light and refreshing with initial sweetness that follows with a slick chocolate aspect like you tried to make Quik with water, you poor asshole. There’s a nice light tobacco and roastiness on the backend that rounds out the watery straight up porter aspect to it. This is like a sessionable imperial stout if you want some sort of paradox with your beer reviews, it has all the big charm of a powered up track home, with with the panache of a studio apartment. Swag curb appeal.

DURRR levels at 0% with this one. Super official.

M: This might be my favorite aspect this beer. It is incredibly light and dances swiftly from flavor zone to zone imparting a nice sweet and hint of smoke aspect. If you went to Wikipedia for something other than jungle porn, you would find this as an unverified textbook definition of a porter, citation unneeded.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the price and 6 packs are all the explanation I need for the obesity epidemic in the midwest. If I were a fireman, or like, an insurance salesman, I would drink this before work instead of coffee. It is that good and refreshing. Or maybe you just live in a rural part of Ohio and your Saturday night fun has a price tag of $9.99, throwing rocks at trains and shit. Get on that grizzy.

It is an amazing porter, I know it is 5%, there’s no time to explain, get in.

Narrative: Michael Chambers was a legacy weatherman as KFEC 6 and everyone in the newsroom knew it. He would swagger in just minuted before the cameras were live, pressing Hershey kisses into the palms of his co-workers. He spun a tight circle and flashed a smile at the producer and sauntered over to the weather green screen in a light brown suit, looking as smooth as the summer day is long. “OK, Mike, hey, let’s get this shot down-” he was popping and locking in a charming manner while ushering the computer generated clouds across Lake Michigan. He might be a bit sweet, even at some times borderline cloying, but God damn it if that Mike Chambers wasn’t a refreshing guy to be around, at all times.

0

Evaporated Beer? Sounds legit.

|

How many times have you been 14 in geometry and wished you could be sipping on an evaporated stout? What about during a long, hot hike, wouldn’t a powdered barleywine hit the spot?

If you said “fuck no” then perhaps you are amongst the small consumer base that can be identified loosely as “every fucking person on earth.”

Anyway, if you want to know more about this, here you go:

http://designtaxi.com/news/353376/Beer-Concentrate-Just-Add-Water-For-Drinking-On-The-Go/

Wipe it on your gums. Get nasty with it.

2

2008 Cantillon Lou Pepe Kriek, Cherry Poppin Daddy

|

Oh loonz. Everyone wants them, and yet they seem to gravitate to the cellars of a chosen few that inexplicably never seem to drink them. If anyone is posting pics online of their 300+ collection of Loonz and 3F, pokemon hoarder extraordinaire to the fullest. Ask them to post a pic of a single open Fou Foune and watch their little hearts break. For example, for the lulz, I took some loonz to Cabo and drank them, because I drain lambic harder than a Brazzers account:

Drinking loonz on the Tropic of Cancer is money, having a basement full of things you never drink is a janky episode of Hoarders.

Loonz are meant to be dranken, so we are gonna smash some cherries in today’s review. Oh also, this is on some top 100 lists, for those who care about that SUPERFICIAL SHIT.

Step on that cherry, aws jeah, smash my preserves.

Alright let’s get this review underway, oh WAIT FUCKING PSYCHE-

CANTILLON PSYCHE OUT: MOAR SHARED LOONZ.

Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 5.00% ABV

A: Get the haz mat suits out, this beer looks like radioactive grenadine. The ruby foam billows up and just exudes a tannic berry character and when the light hits your eyes it is more radiant than an Aphex Twin concert. You just googled that shit. The whole affair is a beautiful garnet gemstone from old Gam Gam that you hold so precious but want to share with others.

If you have never had any Cantillon, it will make you flip your shit.

S: This has an initial tannic cherry skin quality with a musk similar to the OG Lou Pepe Gueuze, for obvious reasons. You get some wet yard clippings but with a healthy does of cherry juice and Cherry 7up sprayed over it. It has a crisp finish to the nose like a red champagne and the whole thing just feels refined, like if you got accused of being an alcoholic on Intervention and pulled this out people would be like, “well HOW OFTEN are we talking about? Does he beat his kids EVERY day?” Making friends and shit.

T: This is incredibly tart with raspberry, cherry, and essentially any candy that has Red5 in it. It reminds me of sour ropes and a juicy, authentic berry profile that blurs the line between beer and tastebud orgasms. Which is the opposite of an orgasm ON your tastebuds, so we are clear. I love the incredibly acrid borderline brackish finish that this imparts. The dryness is like a fine Pinot Noir meets the sweetness of well-done Cyser, balling Lisa Frank style, stuffing singles into some Hudson jeans, balling out so hard.

If you don’t drink your Loonz, that is bad and you should feel bad.

M: Hey, how is your short term memory holding up> This beer is fucking dry. It is also thin, and…cherries. There you go. Next section.

D: Did you recover from that huge blast of sass in the last section? Pshew, can you walk? This is exceptionally drinkable, you could power down a full bottle of this and still show up smelling like a Fruit by the Foot addict in time for your kid’s Parent-Teacher conference. If you got pulled over after binging on this beer, the cop wouldn’t think you were drinking, he would just assume you had no self control and fucking loved candy.

Actually opening a Cantillon feels good man, try it.

Narrative: Rainier Bing swirled the pink potation in front of him and wiped the sticky juice from his slick skin. His stem was chapped in this humid weather and this tavern felt like a prison, letting him know all that he had done wrong. “It all reduces down to MASTER and SLAVE roles, ultimately, that’s what the Story of Job, Psalms, pretty much all the Old Testa-” Rainier stopped his drunken rambling when he saw her walk through the threshold. Her skin was still flawless, perfectly unbruised, looking as though harvest season was just last month. “Is that…SKEENA SANTINA? God, she was the prize of the last harvest.” Her sweet ruby skin glimmered under the red lights, and the heat floated on top of her skin, like an ice cube in a glass of gin. She quipped to a couple of currants in the corner booth and sat, BY HERSELF NO LESS, and casually lit a cherry cigarillo. There was no smoking in the Cherry Pit but she flashed a coy wink to the bartender and he continued drying the glass and put on an asymmetrical grin. “HEY…er hey Skeena?” Rainier stammered to himself, suddenly aware of this pints of juice that he had just consumed. “Gosh you, I mean, look at us, same TREE! God, I remember you from budding season, you just-” Mr. Bing continued and noticed that she was staring with an apparent prescience at the white fuzz on his right quadrant. “Ha! I mean, look at me, a lil old in the tooth, did some time in the bottom of the plastic bin, a little moisture expos-” Rainier trailed off as Skeena Santina gave him an acrimonious glance and put her cigar out. He was right, in the end, all was reduced to master and slave relations. Reality was a tart endeavor.

1

De Struise Five Squared, 130 euro bottle + 25% abv = Gucci Mane

|

Well let’s give a little background to those who missed the boat on this elusive, massive beast of a beer. De Struise took their Quad X and ice distilled it several times until it was 25% alcohol by volume. They made 240 of these, I understand that 216 of them were released to the public at the Alvinne Beer Festival to benefit a brewery expansion. This bottle was 130 euros and still had to be shipped from Belgium so, here we are. It finally ended its journey up in Kernville with Kyle and Eric from Kern River Brewing. What a life it led.

I usually hate on small pours from other janky beer blogs, at 25% abv, my 8oz pour was plenty.

De Struise Brouwers
Belgium
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 25.00% ABV

A: First I have to say this bottle took the wax game to a whole new level. There were about 5-6 layers of what can only be described as Crayola wax. After that wax shattered everywhere and made a huge mess I got the cap off to find a CORK as well. The old Cantillon/Fantome Belgian trick keeping things gully. So the onlookers at Kern River thought I was a huge prick for bringing this elaborate beer to a Citra release, but I got it open. It was actually carbed pretty nicely for the body with gentle microbubbles and this huge sheeting of alcohol that looked like clear solvent that left relentless clear curtains on the glass. The beer was ruby to amber in hue with a lightly hazy aspect to it. Very pretty, all in all.

Ice distilled? 25%? 200 American dollars? Let’s do this shit. I doesn’t afraid of anything.

S: The smell at low temperatures was turbinado sugars and some dark fruits but as it opened up it exuded this delicious boozy tiramisu, toasted marshmellow, caramel, butterscotch, and sweet brandy aspect to it. The whole affair felt like if Scrooge McDuck had a sweets cellar that you got to rifle through. Super decadent and over the top. The type of thing a 4th grader enjoys just before being tossed in an Econoline van.

T: While cold, this beer is pretty tame with some light toffee and aspects of red grape and plums, but when this beer neared room temperature the throttle was torn open and this went NoS foggers pretty quickly. There is a huge aspect of red grape, butterscotch, molasses, caramel, and figs. This is an incredibly complex beer that just lingers and provides a boozy warmth on the finish. All present were amazed that it was 25% alcohol, so if you were an eccentric millionaire, you could play some hilarious pranks on your friends with a few bottles of this.

This beer is strange, unforgettable, and you sure as shit will have a hell of a story to tell if you live through the experience.

M: This is the heaviest, stickiest, most coating I have ever experienced. This is not like Hunaphu’s where you go “wow that’s chewy” and swallow, I mean your teeth are coated in this sticky decadence. They don’t know what to do. It’s like melted caramel that lingers on and on with a boozy warmth. It is incredible and the perfect beer to share for when you finish Skyrim, kiss your first real girl, you know, epic moments.

D: This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but how drinkable do you think that an intensely heavy, 25% abv beer is? You aren’t exactly ordering a pint of this and tossing darts. This is more of the type of beer you watch while watching Millionaire Matchmaker so you can just black out everything you are taking in. I guess you CAN drink a lot of this, if you have the time. This is delicious and could be savored like a delicious brandy or fine bourbon, but most people aren’t drinking 16oz of neat bourbon and playing shuffleboard, at least not outside of Kentucky. I am not here to tell you how to live your life.

Hey bro, try this Belgian Pale Ale, it is 25% abv. Wait wat-

Narrative: Karl Venderberg lumbered slowly through the cafeteria wiping the sweat from his brow, despite the fact that it was a cool 47 degrees outside. “Hey Karl! You big Belgian teddybear!” Kandyss Lamont called to him and gave him a loving hug, attempting to get her arms over the sheets of alabaster folds that were his shoulders. “Herghhh KERNDESSS, I got, you this….flow….flowerrrr” he exhaled roughly and produced a crumpled lilac from his wet pocket. “OH I SAY KARL, you are the sweetest person with a thyroid problem that I HAVE EVER MET!” She kissed the uneven terrain of his skin and he smelled the Dr. Pepper lipgloss and immediately craved a Mr. Pibb. “I do not fucking get it” Chase Marks, local waterpolo all-pro, semi-regional champion quipped, “look at him, he is fat as fuck. I do not buy this Thyroid Problem, look he is eating a sandwich with brownies as bread and dipping it in tartar sauce. WHAT! Come on, now he is giving Kaelynn a mix CD he made?!” Karl wheezed and looked at Kaelynn’s impeccable bilateral bicuspids and azure blue eyes. He was the sweetest, most morbidly obese, most decadent student at Struise High School, and the ladies flocked to him. The thyroid problem was bullshit, but he got mad messages written in dust on his sick ride by the the stacked dimes at SHS.

0

Coors Brewing Blue Moon Belgian White, Because Your Stepdad Isn’t Watching the Kardashians Sober

|

You knew it would come to this. We have been slaying wales and enjoying our time in the sun, but now the time for around fucking has long since elapsed: it is time to confront the Blue Corn Moon. I am going to show you assholes how to paint with all colors of the wind in today’s review:

Apologies to Shaun Hill for the misuse of the glassware, we are slaying wales today.

Coors Brewing Company
Colorado, United States
Witbier | 5.40% ABV

A: This has a hazy orange aspect to it and frothy cloud of mediocrity that dances playfully so as to say, “don’t worry, having a second kid isn’t the end of the world.” A panacea for pedestrian problems. The lacing is insubstantial but it looks the part of a summer beer, something you can drink when you are 14 years old and you can’t really fuck the world up that badly yet.

If you wanna be the best damn beer served at a Prince concert, BE THAT SHIT.

S: The smell is kinda like that girl who you always cheated off of in Algebra, standard, but forgetable. It has some light biscuit qualities, pale malt, a light orange zest, and a lil bit of coriander on the backend but I am talking like 1 molar unit. This is all irrelevant though because you will probably be drinking this out of a plastic cup with half an orange dunked in it anyway, looking out over the shitty waterpark, wondering how your life ended up this way.

T: This has a mediocre biscuit and conrbread quality with an emphasis on hackneyed wheat execution. In the realm of witbeers, this would be somewhere inbetween a Chevy Aveo and a Daewoo Lanos. It will get you to your middle management job at Golden Corral, but no one is going to be turning their heads in stern reverence of your chunk of orange sitting on the rim of your 22oz glass. It tastes like it smells with a watery wheat profile, some orange notes that seem almost synthetically added there via the beer equivalent of photoshop.

Dude you have a Blue Moon, what?

M: This is watery with some mild foamy expansive corn and biscuit maltiness. You get the traditional pale aspects and some light drying from the orange. Describing this is like using an electron microscope on a loaf of bread because extrapolating the nuances from something this simple seems to belabor the point. You have probably had this beer a million times before at Applebees, why the fuck am I even reviewing this?

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and it will be the taste you remember when you are booked for public intoxication. The type of people who drink this don’t read my site and the type of people who brew this go home from their factory jobs and watch Storage Wars, but, it IS drinkable. Water is also drinkable on a long hike, but it doesn’t have biscuits and orange rind floating around in it. This beer will get the job done at a Sugarland concert if the venerable Shocktop isn’t available. At a certain point I just look at the prospect of getting a mild buzz from this and think of the 150 calories wasted in the transaction.

After 9 of these at a Pony convention, you will never drink (this beer) again.

Narrative: Life at the Sunkist packing line wasn’t how Jacob Killigan saw his life culminating. He was in charge of 31 people and his regional director said that his efficiency yields were exemplary. He even had various certificates printed from a bubblejet printer lining the walls of his modest cubicle evidencing how qualified his fruit harvesting efforts were. Still, he would come home at night to his Birmingham home and look at the Billy Bass on the wall and pop open a Red Stripe and wonder how it all came to this. In high school he played noseguard and people loved his S10. Oh how those slackjawed Alabamian women, so ripe with indiscretions swooned when he hit the bags. THE BAGS. He exhaled and tossed the cap across the room into his Kansas City Chiefs trashcan and turned the TV on. He took a deep sip and felt an existential crisis on an uneducated level, there had to be more out there than re-runs of Celebrity Apprentice, but what? He would toe the cusp of greatness at the Sunkist factory, until he meets a biscuit mouthed Denny’s waitress who has just started a jewelry business on Pintrest. True love.