(The legal eagles have given me permission to release a rough draft of the table of contents at the end of this post. But don't scroll there now or you'll die, or maybe it just won't be there - Pony P is a programming genius.)
And now, a confession: This past week I fell off the craft beer wagon. It's not 100% my fault - there was a fair in town. And that fair had a beer garden. And obviously the beer selection was pretty straight forward - Bud, Miller, Coors, Birch Beer. Oh, and Rolling Rock - my binge mistress from years gone by.
The Beer On My Shirt posse was rolling mad deep that night and we found ourselves at the town fair sitting under fluorescent lights in a picnic pavilion surrounded by a chain link fence with prize winning cows and pigs defecating freely just 100 feet away. It was a mix of prison and 4H summer camp and it was glorious. The Rolling Rock came in green plastic pitchers that seemed to make time stand still and beer disappear, quickly. And no one complained, unless you count the $8 charge to get into the fair at 9 p.m. (Listen, Old Man in the ticket booth, and you too, Old Lady that so sweetly put on our wristbands without pulling out any wrist hair - we know you played dumb and actually knew a lot more than you let on in regards to when there would be no admission charge - turns out it was right after you charged us $8 bucks a piece - you probably pocketed that cash for yourselves and bought calcium supplements the next day. And I don't blame you, supplements aren't cheap and your bones look more and more like swiss cheese everyday. By the way, I saw this infomercial for an all herbal skin tag remover - you may want to look into that.)
Eventually, after the charm of the farm and fair wore off, we found ourselves at the local pub - where the choices were much more sophisticated and we all know sophistication don't come cheap. You know what does come cheap? Rolling Rock. And it should considering its main ingredient is stagnant water from puddles in abandoned suburban strip mall parking lots. Its second main ingredient is the joy you feel from looking at the label and being reminded of the first two Back to the Future films. Its third main ingredient is imagination. Bet you didn't know that, you crafty beer snob.
Now originally I was planning on ordering more than one of Lancaster Brewing Co.'s Kolsch, but they were all out of it. So I turned into a boa constrictor, unhinged my jaw, and opened my mouth wide and continued to shove half kegs of Rolling Rock down my gullet until eventually, from a far distance, I looked like a string of anal beads.
Let's face the facts people, you just can't drink nine pints of Bell's Special Double Cream Stout in one night. And in hindsight, looking at the Bell's website, that brew is only available from October to about March - so that keg had been sitting for awhile. And yes, while an old keg of Bell's is way better than the freshest of Rolling Rock - an old Bell's draft for $6 bucks or Rolling Rock for $2 bucks is a no-brainer, especially at 12:30 a.m. Listen, binge drinking is bad, Men's Health told me so, but it happens, even to grown ups. I don't always binge drink, but when I do it's with Rolling Rock. Or Yeungling's Lord Chesterfield's Ale. And sometimes Pabst Blue Ribbon. And once with Narragansett. Now, Bell's Pale Ale - that's fancy, delicious, and could pass as binge-able. Troeg's Hopback Amber Ale - that's a beer I'd like to binge drink some day. But as we delve into craft bingeables, we need to consider the economics of the situation - how much is something you won't remember worth to you? I'll go out on a limb here and say it is worth less than six dollars.
Unless we are talking about the early stages of childhood, the SATs, or any number of scenarios that may or may not have occurred in Las Vegas, I'm not paying over three dollars for something I won't really even remember ever happened.
SIDENOTE: Want to know what I remember about taking the SATs? Going to McDonald's afterwards. Literally my only memory of the occasion.
Now as an act of redemption, I would like to tell you about Flying Dog's El Dorado Single Hop Imperial IPA. This is probably the best Flying Dog brew I've had, as well as one of the better single hop IPAs I've had - both can probably be attributed to the wonderfulness that is the El Dorado hop with it's bright, fruity flavors. Now granted, when I say fruity, I do not mean this beer tastes like fruit. This beer tastes like an Imperial IPA - hoppy, bitter, and complex with the flavors - including a nice balance between the malts and the sweetness of this fruity hop. This is a must try if your into IPAs.
And now, it's time - a sneak peak at the table of contents of what we at Beer On My Shirt hope to be just the first of many, many books...
Penis Tips: A Road Map To Your Man Parts
by Beer On My Shirt (a writing collective)
Penises and Icebergs: That's Just The Tip
American Manscaping: A seasonal and regional approach (excluding the Pacific Northwest)
Who is Harry Shaft?: The Pros and Cons of penile oddities
Optical Illusions with Pubic Hair: The Tuck, The Grow Out/Cut Back, and the Oregon Trail
Your Pee Hole: Too big? Too small? It burns?
Piss Art: Snow, Suds, and other mediums
Baby Crow Bar: Your penis is a midwife
Rumpelfudgeskin: A Cautionary Tale
Early Fan Reaction: "I'll tell where you can take those penis tips and shove them!"