Friday, March 10, 2006

A Beer.Story

Zeke and me had just busted out of the thick traffic leaving the Golden Gate Bridge at 4ish. Looking for beer and cheeseburgers we drove through Ukiah and found a place at the edge of town with last year's cheerleaders at the counter and the football coach cooking. Lagunitas IPA. LAH-GOO-KNEE-TUSS. Cuz and me took off to the big city to see a three act set at the Twelve Galaxies. The Bellyachers and Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash were the only two I recall. We got there early to beat the crowd and they were having a tasting party special. I.P.FUKN'A. Little Dog Faced beercap refridgerator magnets. Available down Zeke's stairs and at the Only Brick Building in Capitola Left Standing.

Comments:
In case Dave is too busy floxing his pinchon vang:

""Here, Have a beer. It will make you right." Ernest said to Tarzan. Tarzan had never had the true beer before and Ernest knew this would not be his last. He Drank the beer quickly. It was cold, and Tarzan knew this too. He looked at the beer coolly. "Me Tarzan, you beer." Ernest looked at Tarzan and felt old. "Vas iz schviss vit da old schtuff?" Ernest and Tarzan turned to watch as Sigmund entered the room strangely. "Sigmund," Ernest said, "my old primitivo! Have a beer with us". Sigmund knew what Ernest meant and he could not bear it. They all had a beer and it was good. Ernest said "Do you remember how it was in Stinson with the running of the dogs and how we ate crullers and got drunk on the Lagunitas Pale and stole grunion from the from the young girls at the Cafe de Sand Shekel?" Sigmund thought of how Ernest could be cruel and he did not answer. He thought how only dogs were not cruel. And also how sometimes a cold beer was just a beer. Tarzan thought of nothing. They all ordered contuuzti del corratzo and spoke not of their big cigars." Pale Ale.
 
'How the spectre of beer has always shaped the focus of man'-D. Drinker.

Weird, Ames and I were on our way to Wayne's houseboat on Claire Engle lake in the Trinity Alps, and stopped in at the Lost Coast Brewery in Eureka, ten o'clock in the morning, and ran into the same clan of riled up cheerleaders. Well... they were soccer moms with their soccer girls, but they were drinkin hard and yuckin' it up proper. We were thinkin' eggs, and ended up with burgers, and pints of 8 Ball Stout and discussing the finer points of childhood with the moms! Somethin' 'bout them mountin' people just sits right, ya know.
Hey peadmart....that'd be my spinnaker strop, if ya need to know....and I think you do.
 
*Aplause Aplause!*....I'll catch up with you fellers 'jus as soon as I have another ale!
 
I get it. It's code to keep the wimmen's unawares of yer congregating and carousing. Thought it was all AFG till I did some research:

http://www.lagunitas.com/beers/paleale.html

Yer killin me. ;-)

Good, though . . .
 
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