I hate the taste of beer. There. I said it. I am a 6'3' tall, and weigh in at a very athletic(just go with it) 225lbs. I work in construction, drive a big, loud, diesel-powered truck, and love the feel of flannel against my calloused blue collar skin. By all accounts, I should be the poster child for anheiser busch, and yet, I find the taste of beer- any beer, totally friggin' disgusting. After years of enduring an endless barrage of verbal jabs and tired jokes at my expense, It's high time I expose the stereotype that 'you aren't manly if you don't like beer'.
Let me first state for the record, that I haven't always had such an aversion to all that is barley, hops and fermentation. I, like most americans, was exposed, at a very young age, to a constant stream of clever commercials, that made it seem like swilling that amber elixir was the key that unlocked all that was good and sought after in this life. Want to hook up with that unattainable blonde tending bar? No problem. Order a frosty Bud Light, and in spite of your average looks and douchy friends, she is yours for the taking. Can't seem to land that big promotion? Just show up to the next conference meeting with a sixer of MGD and it's goodbye cubicle, and hello plush corner office. I watched every commercial and soaked in every billboard and print ad. With wide-eyed optimism, I cracked open my first brew at the legal age of 21, then sat back and waited for it to rain blondes and brunettes. But it was not to be. This land flowing with milf and money, existed only in some ad exec's dream. It had all been a mirage. Not only did drinking beer not bring all of my wildest desires to fruition, it's taste was, to me, truly revolting. Mr. Budweiser, you might be the king of beers, but you sir, sit on a throne of lies.
The years to follow held some of the darkest moments of my life. Angry and disollusioned I would frequently pick fights at bars and eating establishments with anyone who dared mock my choice of beverage. I'd often fly into a Zima fueled rage at the slightest provocation. It wasn't until I woke up in a pool of my own sick, after a 6 hour daquiri bender, that I realized I had hit rock bottom. Months of counseling helped me to realize that I didn't have to prove that I was a man by fighting, Being a man has nothing to do with what kind of liquid you choose to slake your thirst, or how much weight you can clean and jerk, or what kind of clothes you wear. Do I like beer? No. Is my idea of a good time, curling up with a blanket, an appletini, and a movie about gladiatiors? Yes. Do I sometimes cry during sex? Sure. But do these things make me "less manly"? I don't think so.
If you allow yourself to be freed from society's labels, I think you'll find life to be infinitely more enjoyable. So go ahead, order a quiche instead of that t-bone once in a while. Want great taste and something less filling? I say take a Lava Flow for a test drive. Want to rollerblade down the promenade wearing dolphin shorts and a half shirt? Do it. I have, and it's invigorating. And after you have, we can meet and talk about it... just don't show up in a miata, those things are super gay.
Let me first state for the record, that I haven't always had such an aversion to all that is barley, hops and fermentation. I, like most americans, was exposed, at a very young age, to a constant stream of clever commercials, that made it seem like swilling that amber elixir was the key that unlocked all that was good and sought after in this life. Want to hook up with that unattainable blonde tending bar? No problem. Order a frosty Bud Light, and in spite of your average looks and douchy friends, she is yours for the taking. Can't seem to land that big promotion? Just show up to the next conference meeting with a sixer of MGD and it's goodbye cubicle, and hello plush corner office. I watched every commercial and soaked in every billboard and print ad. With wide-eyed optimism, I cracked open my first brew at the legal age of 21, then sat back and waited for it to rain blondes and brunettes. But it was not to be. This land flowing with milf and money, existed only in some ad exec's dream. It had all been a mirage. Not only did drinking beer not bring all of my wildest desires to fruition, it's taste was, to me, truly revolting. Mr. Budweiser, you might be the king of beers, but you sir, sit on a throne of lies.
The years to follow held some of the darkest moments of my life. Angry and disollusioned I would frequently pick fights at bars and eating establishments with anyone who dared mock my choice of beverage. I'd often fly into a Zima fueled rage at the slightest provocation. It wasn't until I woke up in a pool of my own sick, after a 6 hour daquiri bender, that I realized I had hit rock bottom. Months of counseling helped me to realize that I didn't have to prove that I was a man by fighting, Being a man has nothing to do with what kind of liquid you choose to slake your thirst, or how much weight you can clean and jerk, or what kind of clothes you wear. Do I like beer? No. Is my idea of a good time, curling up with a blanket, an appletini, and a movie about gladiatiors? Yes. Do I sometimes cry during sex? Sure. But do these things make me "less manly"? I don't think so.
If you allow yourself to be freed from society's labels, I think you'll find life to be infinitely more enjoyable. So go ahead, order a quiche instead of that t-bone once in a while. Want great taste and something less filling? I say take a Lava Flow for a test drive. Want to rollerblade down the promenade wearing dolphin shorts and a half shirt? Do it. I have, and it's invigorating. And after you have, we can meet and talk about it... just don't show up in a miata, those things are super gay.
Posted by mindblower
I'm 5'4"(5 foot 4 inches)A little measurement translation for all you little girls out there who weren't manly enough to get a construction job. I find your article on beer misleading. I will now undo the damage your article almost did to impressional readers looking to score the hot chicks. Beer, and everything manly like beer is what makes me able to score the models i'm with constantly. Let me give you 2 suggestions that will help you on your way to be as amazing as I am. The ladies love a real man, so i suggest you get yourself a 4 wheel drive work truck. How high should your lift be? The mathmatical formula is for every inch under 6 feet you are, times that by 1.5, and thats the size of your lift kit, my truck has a 12 inch lift. When meeting people, let them know how much money you make. 6 feet and taller start with $200,000. Or if under 6 feet, add the mathmatical formula to $200,000:every inch under 6 feet, times by 50,000. I make $600,000. Let them know you don't just make money...you pose for money! That's all for now. I expect to see your retraction, i will accept that as your apology.
ReplyDeleteOk, so our blog was a grand idea, we were all excited to post thoughts on various topics, and were out to really have fun. And then Jared comes in sets the bar at a level no one knew was possible. I feel like Will Arnett in the following clip.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIKcIjbhsHE
Again, this is going places I never intended.
If you dont drink the brew it must have been your boyfriend that made you cry during sex....:p j/k
ReplyDeleteFirst of all i just would like to express my appreciation for these fine posts...and I personally will be quoting:
ReplyDelete"With wide-eyed optimism, I cracked open my first brew at the legal age of 21"
and:
"Zima fueled rage"
Also I have always been intrigued with Dennis's higher mathematical skills...thank you for those equations...
I recommend Bouzy Gastropub at Chez Mélange in Redondo Beach to cure the beer taste hatred...or portland...or Germany...The city of Cesky Budejovice in Southern Bohemia, is where the Czech Budweiser brewery is located, is called Budweis in German. And thus, Budweiser Beer essentially means - Beer from Budweis. The American brewery Anheuser-Busch began using the name in 1876 and ever since the two breweries have been in a number of disputes throughout the world. Hence corporate war may have fueled the taste dissolution. Enjoy the commercials...trust your taste buds...
Oh boy! I can hardly wait to hang with JP and hoist a few champagne cooleys, throw back some mimosas and/or slam some white wine spritzers after dance class. Now where are my capezios?
ReplyDelete