Okay. Before we start, just to make sure I have your full attention. Read back through all my drunk posts/threads/lives and understand who the fuck I am (not a boast of some majestic creature, just a fact of some stupid white boozehound). In previous days, I have consumed an incredible amount of alcohol. Some favourite occasions involve a friend and I splitting a bottle of Bombay Sapphire in a 5 hour period, on a work night. The big bottle, the 1.75L one. Yes. Either way. You don't get liver problems at 29 years old like me without doing your homework LOLOLOLOLOLOL
Anyhow. Over the past 2 years I have slowed down. A lot. A lot a lot. I used to consume between 10 and 30 beers per week, all of the +5% variety. These days, I drink 2 maybe 3 beers a month. At best. I recognize past stupidities, it's true. Maybe just because I'm happy with where I reside in life (a nice woman as opposed to a soul-sucking one, albeit with a tight fucking pussy), but either way, NOT TONIGHT.
I'm fucking hosed. I had a shitty yesterday, with everything from woman to family to personal problems fucking me over, so I gave it a day and then got drunk when everyone disappeared. As it stands, my final beer of the night is a Double Bastard. This beer does not, I repeat does NOT fuck around. I've had beers ranging from 3% to 15% alcohol content and nothing, NOTHING comes close to this one, even if it is rated at only 10.4% aclohol. For reference, I shall cut and paste my first excursion into such matters (star date: December 2007):
I come here to have fun. I love you fuckers. Sure, I leave for months on end, but there still resides a close place to me heart this entire affair. I still wear my RC shirt several times a month just because I was THERE with ya'll. Nothing but love for you, baby.
Also, really. Listen to Conifer. They are quite extraordinary. Thank me later, you will.
Anyhow. Over the past 2 years I have slowed down. A lot. A lot a lot. I used to consume between 10 and 30 beers per week, all of the +5% variety. These days, I drink 2 maybe 3 beers a month. At best. I recognize past stupidities, it's true. Maybe just because I'm happy with where I reside in life (a nice woman as opposed to a soul-sucking one, albeit with a tight fucking pussy), but either way, NOT TONIGHT.
I'm fucking hosed. I had a shitty yesterday, with everything from woman to family to personal problems fucking me over, so I gave it a day and then got drunk when everyone disappeared. As it stands, my final beer of the night is a Double Bastard. This beer does not, I repeat does NOT fuck around. I've had beers ranging from 3% to 15% alcohol content and nothing, NOTHING comes close to this one, even if it is rated at only 10.4% aclohol. For reference, I shall cut and paste my first excursion into such matters (star date: December 2007):
As you can see, I really enjoyed that album back then, and still do. Seriously, other than Drudkh and Deathspell Omega no other black metal act has moved me so since the early-to-mid-90s quite like that, but that is another discussion. Anyhow, the crux of the biscuit:The holidays are truly upon us now, driving by ye olde local Target a short time ago revealed a nearly full parking lot cominbed with chilly weather (the former not so irregular for SoCal, the latter of course very much so), the fact that I'm spending just as much money as usual but on other people for a change, and of course this year's release of Double Bastard. This is my first brew from said Doubling, after years and years of being a staunch believer in all things Stone Brewing Co. This particular incarnation is always lost upon me, the one year I actually witnessed the in stock bottling at my favourite boozery, they all disappeared to various friends as gifts, including even the last one especially marked for myself was given away (read: lost) to someone I ran into at the last possible second before the xmas gifting charade, and that was many years ago. No longer! Today I decided to make a run to a new place to purchase booze, and while their beer selection wasn't too great, they had massive quantities of the DB. What further about this venturing is known shall likely be forgotten, because I'm halfway through the first big bottle and my oh my, I cannot see straight. M'lady just remarked "You know what goes with beer? Cashews," and brought me a bowlfull. I love her so. She says I do not speak much of her on here (one of my few dedicated readers), but lack of love is not the reason, no no no. I think the crux of the biscuit is that I vent my frustrations here mostly, and of course having lived together for the past year+ there have been some, but not many, and not nearly enough to bitch, moan, obersve, and complain about her here. Perhaps things shall remain this way for all time, one (or two) can only hope. Taking my first munch she is indeed correct concerning the cashewing.
Necessary imagebreak because I went asurfin' for a spell. Actually I think I'm fresh out of spoke at this point, but then again I'm buzzed enough where I can keep going and going and going and going just like E-Bunny but perhaps I should stop and go consume myself into something a little more interesting like finishing off the King Crimson album I'm spinning and then perhaps watching Erik the Viking on handy DVD format. Either that or blast the awesomeness that is the following album, much to the neighbour's chagrin:
Yes, quite, rather, indeed, assuredly, capital, grand, peaking, whatever.
I come here to have fun. I love you fuckers. Sure, I leave for months on end, but there still resides a close place to me heart this entire affair. I still wear my RC shirt several times a month just because I was THERE with ya'll. Nothing but love for you, baby.
Also, really. Listen to Conifer. They are quite extraordinary. Thank me later, you will.
