Leftover Shitty Beer Night

It had been about a week since we made our now infamous jaunt to the Bier Garden in Old P-Town and The Taphouse in downtown Norfolk and the boys were anxious to drink some more beers. The problem was that our 4 neighborhood beer fridges were getting overstocked with what was frankly, shitty beers. Normally a bomber is the perfect size for sharing with the group, but occasionally we have to buy beers in 12 oz bottles, so we usually pick up 3 or 4 to ensure we all get a decent sample pour. The only issue with this is when the beer tastes like stale skunk saliva, you now have 2 or 3 more of them taking up valuable real estate in the beer cooler. What to do with all this asstastic flavor we asked, until Johnny Wilder sent out a text to the group that proclaimed this night as "Leftover shitty beer night", whereby we would dig deep into our beer drinking souls to come up with the courage to abuse our palates once again with the wretches of the craft brewing world. Seriously, some of these brewers should be ashamed that they actually sold what amounts to turpentine or leftovers from the deep fryer at Bojangles as beer. Not wanting to actually throw the beers away, or even potentially ruin the virgin taste buds of a future BC4M member by allowing them to poison themselves with this swill, we figured we could man up and stomach this batch of Drano. D-Rail (always a fan of cheap, shitty beers and low cost ladies of the night), Snake, Crazy Ken, Tank, Bim, 10pm Branigan and Fred gathered around Wilder's breakfast nook for a night that we hope will never be repeated. We pulled out some of the classics from the "I hope I never have to taste this shit again" collection for our night of gastrointestinal destruction such as Yuengling Porter (water with black mung coloring), Bell's Oarsmen (the scurvy prevention treatment for sailors that smelled like cheerios topped with cat urine), Michelob Bavarian Wheat (which Ken said, "Tastes warm and crappy even when its ice cold"). Since our moods began to follow the shitty beers we were choking down, we decided to perhaps crack open a "couple" of new beers to lighten the atmosphere. As we listened to some classic rock on the new 5000 watt home theater system jamming in the family room, Wilder pulled out a growler of Gordon Biersch Fest (5.6%). This one had the typical GB flavor that instantly gives it away, but it was still both malty and flavorful so it got a good. We moved on to a Paulaner Octoberfest (5.8%) that Snake and Bim had tried at the Bier Garden. Another solid good, this one was lighter and more full bodied than the Gordon Biersch, but equally as flavorful so it too got a good. Just as we were about to open our next beer, a classic Gordon Lightfoot song came on. As our ears were delighted by Bim's hauntingly dead on rendition of the classic sea faring tale "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald", we cracked open that classic Belgian-Brazilian-American lager, Budweiser (5.0%). "What the Fuck?" asked Fred, don't we already know this beer is as worthless as a jar of ball sweat? Bim, the parliamentarian of the group said in his steady calming voice, "You know we have to rate EVERY beer in the world, so suck it up Nancy". While we watched this can of swill get passed around, Tank remarked how he must have drank a case of Bud a day when he was the foreman for an all female roofing crew back home in Hoboken during the summer of 83. Tank said, "I had to get plowed, those were some big bitches", "and they were ALWAYS horny". Wilder added that he got his first taste of Bud when he was 7 after he had won a game of strip poker with his "exotic dancer" babysitter Bambi. "Damn I loved those cans" he reflected (we guessed he meant the cans of beer, but Wilder has always been a leg and ass man so maybe thats when he got hooked on Boo-Tays), as we gave a unanimous thumbs down to the beer itself. "This is fucking race car beer" said Bim, as we all agreed it rated a sucks. Next was a bottle of Lindeman's Framboise Lambic (2.5%). "What the hell is this, a bottle of cherry jello?" asked Snake. It smelled exceedingly sweet, and tasted like a desert wine, but damn was it smooth. "Last time I tasted something that smooth, I was face down and chin up between a candy striper named Trixie's thighs" said the noted cunning linguist D-Rail. Despite the fact that it packed the alcoholic wallop of a bowl of Fruity Pebbles we all enjoyed it and gave it a good. While we decided which beer was next on the list, Tank saw a lonely bottle of San Miguel sitting on the table. "Oh man, I remember my first trip to the P.I.", he recalled, "nothing but a case of San Miguel, a couple of coconuts and a Harley riding masseuse named Mathilda." "Boys, you ain't had your pipes cleaned until you have spent a few nights with that old dame". As we howled with laughter at the stories of our intrepid young sailor learning the ways of the female, we opened up a Ayinger Brau-Weisse (5.1%). As you know, we generally despise hefeweizens and their ilk due to their annoyingly clovey flavorings. This one was no different and it was like drinking a banana hammock drenched in spices. "Damn this shit sucks" said Snake as we all agreed that it was putrid at best. Wellpark Brewery's Tennent's Lager (4.0%) was an import from the wee laddies over in Glasgow. Another weakling had arrived from the Empire as this one was akin to drinking a Coors Light, namely nothing to it, sorta like cotton candy. This one was a so-so at best, but before we moved on to our final beer, Brassiere des Rocs (9.5%), 10pm said he had to get going. "What the fuck?" said Wilder, "its only 9:27, surely you don't have to get into your pj's already". "Guess his new nickname will be 9:27", said Fred, as we bid our princess goodnight. The des Rocs was a Grand Cru style (or big bold badass version of a regular beer) that was categorized as a Belgian Special Brown Ale. This one was molasses like in both texture and flavor and left us with a hearty case of tooth decay due to the abundance of sugars. Despite the impending trip to the dentist we would all be having to make, it was still a decent beer and it got a good. Not wanting to drink any more bottles of ineptitude, we called it a night, thankful we had cleaned out most of the dregs from our shelves, and thankful that we had at least gotten to try a few more new brews. Until next time, remember the immortal words from one of our blogging pals, "Life's too short to drink shitty beers".