Tasty Beers and Random-Ass Conversation

My good friend, LaFontaine, and I stopped into a new Brewery to review their beers.  Actually, he has knowledge of beers and has a site where he rates them, and my specialty is more in the area of engaging and notating the "Random Conversation" where I will relay to you what goofy things were discussed at the time we drank each one.  I'll give my "Impressions" of the beers too, but you'll want to go by Lafontaine's page for a more in depth analysis of that sort of thing if you are a beer enthusiast.

Atlas Golden Ale
Impressions: "Is this one flat?"
Random Conversation: LaFontaine and I were talking about a professional wrestling party that I am throwing soon, and he had to admit that, due to being a Black guy, he will have to go as Junkyard Dog with a giant chain around his neck and "thump" written on his ass.  We also decided that girls would need a whole other theme because we couldn't have 14 Miss Elizabeth's walking around up in that piece.

Demeter Belgian Wheat
Impressions: "I always like the wheaty ones better."

Random Conversation: I pointed out that LaFontaine didn't notice that I had grown out stupid-looking mutton chops this summer.  He said that he noticed them, but he didn't think I was looking for commentary on them.

Brother Mauro
Impressions: "This one says it has lychee aromas in it.  Who could give a beer a sniff and discern that it smells like a fruit I've barely heard of?"

Random Conversation: The men's gymnastics were on in the Olympics, and LaFontaine and I decided that if you show us a man who is good at the pommel horse, we will show you a man who has racked his craw dads horribly and painfully over-and-over again when he started doing it.  

Nalad Summer Belgian IPA
Impressions: "Citrusy!  Sunny Delight should make a beer.  Maybe it could come in the same bottle shape, only a 12 oz version!"

Random Conversation: I was telling LaFontaine how I had a dream that my girlfriend and I were staying at a hotel in Idaho for whatever reason, and she killed a couple people.  I remember that she had her reasons, and while I thought killing them was a little drastic, I was on board for helping her get away with it.  We paid with a credit card, which had me worried that if they found the bodies, police would have our names to use as a list of suspects.  Then I was trying to convince her that we should drive our asses to Mexico.  I asked LaFontaine what this dream might mean, but he said he stopped listening midway through and again marveled at how those gymnastics kids don't bang their testicles on that pommel horse.  

Diversey Pale Ale
Impressions: "Creamy!  Remember Creamsicles?  Was there a difference between those and Dreamsicles?"

Random Conversation: At this point LaFontaine and I were trying to decide which bar to watch The Bears this football season.  For me, whether or not they played "Bear Down" after a touchdown was a biggy, while beer selection was a deciding factor for him.  I'm confident that through perseverance, we can come to a peaceful resolution.  I have a dream - sicle . . . 

Hyperion Double IPA
Impressions: "I hate the hoppy ones, but shouldn't this be hoppier if it's double the IPA because IPA's are always the hoppy as heck ones that dry my whole mouth out?"

Random Conversation: I pointed out that LaFontaine's stuffy nose didn't sound as bad as when he came in, and we were thinking that if beer cured the common cold, Chicagoans would never have the slightest sniffle.  

Deep End Stout
Impressions: "This one is like drinking a steak!"  

Random Conversation: We were talking about DSL's, which is a crude acronym for women's lips, if you must know, and he was trying to convince me that NFL sideline reporter, Pam Oliver, was fine as hell in the 1980's and had some really nice DSL's.  I looked it up, and it wasn't easy to find a picture back far enough to convince me, but ultimately, he's right!  Thank you, google images.  

1871 Smoked Porter
Impressions: "I didn't care for this one at first, but the more I drink, the more it's my favorite one.  It's a grower, not a shower."  

Random Conversation: LaFontaine at this time mixed 2/3 of the Deep End Stout with 1/3 of the Double IPA, and we both loved it.  Two of the guys who worked there dug it too, and one of them had to admit, "I think you guys just discovered our best beer . . ."  Yes!  We are alchemists.  I then got a whole pint of the LaFontaine Blend, and then "sampled" (read "chugged") way too many Bud Lights with my buddy, Oates.  

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Again, swing by LaFontaine's page if you're curious what all these things actually tasted like, and I did another one of these called Night of the Horrendous Beer Tasting with my other good friend, The Locust, where we drank some of the most vile winter brews under the sun.  

What do you think, readers?  Any beer you could recommend?  Any ones that you would pass up even on the worst Friday of work of your life? 

"Fuck Pilsen!"

So, last night I went to see a band called Maritime at The Empty Bottle, and after many a 312 beer, we went to get burritos at The Burrito House. When we walk in, there are people milling around talking to the staff so I asked if they were ordering. They were not, but somehow a heavyset girl in a full soccer outfit felt a need to tell me that the quite beyond heavyset middle aged man with a beard and a sport coat they were with was a Pulitzer Prize winner. I didn't ask if he was, but, hey, that's great. When I'm a famous writer, I will demand that a chick in sports apparel talks me up to everyone within earshot, especially when I'm dining at 2 in the morning.

At first, when I heard how opinionated and annoying this fellow was, I suggested we sit as far away from him as we could, but the more I overheard, I just had to hear more awfulness! He was spouting off things like "Fuck Pilsen!" Pilsen is a neighborhood in Chicago. We never heard the meat of his arguments because we were laughing too hard and quoting lines from "Billy Madison" because he looked just like Principal Anderson, or The Revolting Blob, if you prefer his professional wrestling name.

The guy a table over from The Revolting Blob was sleeping. When we woke him up, he said, in a British accent "Yes, I need to make a left on Paulina." He was out of it. Probably got mugged later.

Then there were two guys perched at the counter, chatting up customers, and it appears as if they had come to the Burrito House to meet women. It's an interesting thought because women at that hour are perhaps drunk and desperate, but at that point they have chosen their stomachs over their vaginas, so it seems like getting to them a hair too late, no?

The thing about Big Business, is he makes me laugh constantly

when I'm around him. This morning my roommate told me that I woke her up when I got home because I was still laughing, and I continued to laugh intermittently through out the next day. I got a text from him this morning that read, "I wanted to explore that soccer girl. I bet her trench smelled like the floor of The Metro after a Pumpkins show." Trench! Okay, he's gross sometimes, but he's literally the funniest guy I know. So, if you want to honor him in your own way, order a Bizznizz Rocks (Vanilla Stoli and Diet Coke), and if you want to do me a favor, follow me around hanging on my every word and tell randoms about the Pulitzer I deserve for writing a shitty blog.