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It’s coming soon now. I know what you’ve been drinking, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. If you want to stay on it (AND YOU DO), follow the Banjo on Twitter @rickbanjo — or, you could just slack and fail at drinking. The choice is yours.
From the travel section of the New York Times, a glistening account of where we should all be RIGHT NOW.
If you haven’t seen it, it contains everything you need to know about me: I like to be happy.
Actually, he handed me my face on a platter, because I have never, EVER seen such a beautiful damned website.
Click here or be doomed to unsuccessful drinking.
This is a tough one. You know that pregnant “glow” people talk about? It’s usually short hand for, “She’s so pissed off that her organs are being re-arranged that she’s glowing with rage.”
Combine this fiery anger with the inability to drink (barring women who do not wish to have significantly retarded children), and you have a perfect storm for jealousy and censure. What is a successful drinker to do?
Okay, I'd Be Pissed Off, Too.
A successful drinker’s first obligation is to a sense of opportunity, and there is a singular opportunity here. There is a beer out there that she hates, and that beer is your friend–pardon–your BEST friend.
Let’s assume for a moment that my wife were pregnant. To whom would I turn? What variety was my greatest ally until I started looking for a common best friend for my wife and I to share?
INDIA PALE ALE. The angrier, the better. I usually ask brewmasters for cast-offs. For bottled beer, the ubiquitous king of IPA is Bridgeport from Portland, OR. You can find it most anywhere, and it’s delicious after rolled on the counter.
It makes little sense to anger your pregnant partner, so re-be-friending your old favorite prevents acute jealousy and allows you to happily enjoy your favorite beverage without being an incredible dick.
Hello, Delicious Old Friend.