The Bells

I stopped at the store to grab a few things on my way to work, and I passed a display of six packs on sale. "Hm," I thought to myself, "Oberon is on sale. I'll have to pick some up later."



"Wait... Oberon?"

Bell's is back in Illinois. When did this happen? Is it back in Chicago or just down here?

I have got to get out of the house more often.

A Top Chef Recap In Which The Author Gets Grumpy About Beer

I know, no real Top Chef recap this week. I'm boycotting because they didn't take the beer pairing seriously ...or I got distracted. Hey, look! A squirrel!

Maybe they got all of this stuff right in the first couple of minutes that I missed, but really:

- Would they have a wine pairing and not bother to tell what wine they paired with each food during the judging? Isn't that sort of critical information to determine how well the chefs did? Half the time they didn't even get the beer in the shot of the food, and they only mentioned the beer once or twice.

- Michelob Ultra? What's with the macrobrew? Would they use Mad Dog or Boone's Farm in a wine pairing? They might as well serve up Rhinelander or Pabst Blue Ribbon.

- What happened to the emphasis on seasonal, local ingredients? Where were all of the great microbreweries in and around Chicago? Even if they went with small regional breweries they had some great options. Just off the top of my head, Sprecher, Three Floyds, and Chicago's own Goose Island are all obvious choices just a hop, skip, and a jump from the studio. Go a little farther and you can add other great regionals like New Glarus, Bell's, and New Holland. If I can get them in Urbana, they can get them in Chicago.

- Most of the contestants obviously didn't know shit about beer. "When I think of beer, I think fried food," is on a par with "When I think of wine, I think overpriced, pretentious French crap." Thank you, Dr. Food Science.

- I'm not sure that judge had a poker face, I think she might have been a smidge overmedicated. I'm from the Midwest. I get the whole quiet, subdued, low-affect thing, but if I spent more than a few minutes with her, I'd be looking for the lobotomy scar. If she is at all qualified to judge a beer and food pairing, how did she not tear that "fried food" douche a new one?

In case you missed it, Beastie Fauxhawk won the Quickfire for Skater Zoi. Awwww.

Then they went to Soldier Field, which they carefully shot to avoid showing the enormous glass and steel Daleyflush 2000 toilet bowl they built on top of it. I am so glad the Fire don't play in that ridiculous eyesore any more.

DAAle won, and they gave him a shirt. I'm sure that makes up for the trip to Italy he missed last week.

Oh, and double dipping is all cool again. Spit is the new cilantro.

Cocktails in the Parking Lot!

So when I got to work this morning and got out of my car, I looked down and saw a single-serving Tropicana container and two of those airline-size bottles of Polar Ice vodka.

How funny and sad is that?

Everything Bad Is Good Again

Guinness is good for you. Well, duh.

It helps prevent heart attacks and it's chock full of antioxidants, so all your metal parts will stay nice and shiny. If I have a choice between green tea with an aspirin chaser or a pint, I know which one I'm taking.

When taken correctly, side effects may include confusion, late night curry, public nudity, shots of Jagermeister, and, in extreme cases, Shane McGowan.

Chapter 8

Wherein the author is not, despite the name, actually dead per se.

I was going to blog about last night's weirdness, but the more I think about it, perhaps I won't. Parts of it were amusing, but it had a tragic twist in the tail that makes me not want to laugh about the earlier stuff. Instead, allow me to present a few rules for polite society.

Try not to mix alcohol and regret. It's the kind of thing that starts out seeming like a good idea and ends up with you on a stranger's doorstep trying to convince them that they are supposed to give you a ride home. (We walked. There was a little staggering into bushes, but no vomiting, so it went better than I had hoped.)

If you do find yourself on somebody's doorstep needing help to get home, no matter how confident you are that you know the way, lead with your address. It'll simplify things.

If you are just a garden-variety fuck up, pull your shit together and solve your own problems. You're sucking up people's ability to cope with actual problems. People should not be sharing their horrible news with me in the middle of the night because the rest of their family is too busy dealing with you. If your problems are your own fault, suck it up and deal, asshole.

And finally, I'm much more comfortable with the whole "crying on shoulder" thing when it remains strictly metaphorical, but you've gotta do what you've gotta do.

S'aright? S'aright. Let's move on.

There will probably not be a Top Chef recap today. Recaps are, like gazpacho and revenge, best served cold. Right?

Work continues to be a crushing grind. Did I mention that I'll be in New York at the end of October?

It's A Small Web After All

I was going to do a quick little post about that terrible DiSaronno ad. You know the one. The one that looks like it was shot for about $20 with a handful of people that the director rounded up at a bus stop. They're certainly not actors.

Faithful readers will have noticed that I like to make fun of people. Really, all I wanted to do was make fun of the guy who plays the bartender. He's just terrible. He should concentrate on actual bartending, because frankly, the acting thing isn't going to go anywhere for him.

What I really wanted to make fun of was the look he gives the girl sucking on the ice cube at the end of the commercial. I can't help but laugh at this point in the commercial, because all I can think is that the director told him "It should look a little bit like you're horny, and a lot like you just peed yourself."

I thought that I should put in an illustration of "the look", for my Brazilian pals and anyone else who may not have seen the ad, so I went to the always dependable GIS to see what I could find. Lo and behold, there at the top of the very first page was exactly what I was looking for. A picture of the DiSaronno guy looking like a dork. But what's this? The picture was on Shakespeare's Sister, which is only two degrees of blogger separation away. I can't swipe an image from someone that close. It's not like we're from Kentucky.

Fun With Alcohol

OK, that last post was a) really long, and b) about subjects that probably bored you to tears, so here is one that is a) short and b) about something everyone loves.

Next time you're out at a bar with your friends, order a pitcher of black and tans. Enjoy the ensuing moment of disconnect and amused confusion, and think of me. For bonus points, post the reaction here.