Shower beer diary: 9/08-9/09 2008

Upon suggestion of my mother of all people, I tried the Boulder Brewing Company's "Hazed and Infused". Allegedly, this beer is first manufactured in the standard "Bavarian tradition" then "infused" with crystal hops. I have no fucking idea what crystal hops is much less what it looks like. What I do know is that Hazed and Infused is a stupid name meant to capitalize on some sort of residual Led Zeppelin, hippie fetish that I don't for the life of me understand. What I do understand, however, is that I drank at least seven of these after I got home from a having a few at The Local.

Can I tell you why I took it upon myself to get fucked-up on a Colorado hippie beer? Of course not. It's one of those weird situations that just happen- the stars align and there you are, naked and drunk and struggling to type out a silly blog post at 3:09am. Was this planned? Hell, no. Much like group sex after a cookie sheet full of jell-o shots, it just happened. And let me tell you, the shower beer was awesome.

For awhile there, I was so drunk that I thought about taking really explicit, barf-up-your-frosted-flakes pictures. Thankfully, I retained something approximating decorum. Despite that lingering thought of humility/sanity, I did pop in Kentucky Fried Movie for added shower beer enjoyment and took a long respite in the shower stall contemplating mortality and the fact that I could no longer stand straight.



The above is my "intellectual ponders the spackle on the ceiling as he grasps the camera in a death grip and avoids falling over" pose. Tired of merely regarding the ceiling tile, I decided to stand with one leg resting on the toilet, in a triumphant pose befitting Caesar or Larry Flynt.


Someday I will run for political office, and that day will be marred by these photos surfacing. Prior to my Hazed and Infused excursion, I was at The Local for my usual Monday night shenanigans. I drive home, so I try my best to avoid total intoxication while at the bar. Tonight, Todd was in rare form and I drank three pints of Stella for the price of $0.00. I tipped well, as I always do, and left the bar feeling as if I owed myself something special.

My fridge is currently stocked with the remnants of Kokanee, that crappy brew I wrote about in last week's edition of Shower Beer. At the time of my arrival home, this refrigerator was also home to the aforementioned hippie brew, which I quickly decided would serve as my accompaniment for the Kentucky Fried Movie and subsequent shower beer communion. It hit the spot, ladies and gents, it really did. Though I was skeptical of the beer's quality and also cognizant of the fact that I was drinking a shower beer out of a bottle (one of Clubby's sins, if you remember), this evening was a success. I am relaxed, tired, and will wake up tomorrow well-rested and ready to face the trials of yet another dreaded Tuesday.

Night's Consumption:

Stella Artois: 3 pints
Hazed and Infused: 7 bottles

James Rockford Memorial Drunk Scale Score: 6.9 -Yep, I'm drunk and pants are optional. (Revised: 7.6 -Hindsight has proven my condition was far worse)

EDIT: 2:06 pm 9/9/2008- I'm feeling not at all hung over, but judging from all the spelling errors in this post I must have been hammered.