I thought today I would do something a little different. As I’ve mentioned many times in posts I am not a lover of beer. While that remains true so does the fact that my better-half loves, adores, and worships at the closest beer tap. Over the years many of my friends and coworkers drank nothing but beer and to this day I’ll never understand why. This post is for all of you male beer drinkers out there and hopefully after reading this you may understand why many women have issues with men who love drinking beer. The following is a list of nineteen reasons why a man at times prefers beer rather than the company of a woman.
1.You can enjoy beer all month long. 2. You don’t have to wine and dine a beer 3. Beer will wait patiently for you in the car when you play sports 4. A frigid beer is still a good beer. 5. Beer is never late. 6. Beer hangovers go away eventually. 7. A beer doesn’t get jealous when you grab another beer. 8. Beer labels come off without a fight. 9. When you go to a bar, you can always pick up a beer. 10. Beer never has a headache.
If you pour beer just right, you’ll always get good head.
A beer won’t get upset if you come home with beer on your breath.
You can have more than one beer a night and not feel guilty.
Beer always goes down easy.
You can share a beer with your friends.
You always know if you’re the first one to pop a beer.
Beer is always wet.
You don’t have to wash a beer before it tastes good.
Police are warning all men who frequent clubs, parties and local bars to be alert and stay cautious when offered a drink by a woman. Many females are using a date rape drug on the market called “Beer.” The drug is found in liquid form and is available anywhere. It comes in bottles, cans, or from taps and in large kegs. Beer is used by female sexual predators at parties and bars to persuade their male victims to go home and sleep with them. A woman needs only to get a guy to consume a few units of Beer and then simply asks him to come home with her for some no-strings attached sex.
Please! Forward this warning to every male you know. If you fall victim to this Beer scam and the women administering it, there are male support groups where you can discuss the details of your shocking encounter with similarly victimized men. For the support group nearest you just look up “Golf Courses” in the phone book
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A man walks into a bar and says “G-g-gimme a b-b-beer. The bartender says, “Seems as though you’ve got a major stuttering problem.” The man replies, N-n-no k-k-kidding!” The bartender says, “I used to stutter, but my wife cured me. One afternoon she gave me oral sex three times in a row, and I haven’t stuttered since!” The man says, “W-w-wow, th-th-that’s great to kn-kn-know” A week later, the same man returns to the bar, and says, “G-g-gimme a b-b-beer.” The bartender says, “Why didn’t you do what I told you?” “I d-d-did try”, said the man. “It j-j-just d-d-didn’t w-w-work. But I m-m-must say, you have a r-r-really n-nice apartment.
AND TO MY BETTER-HALF AND ALL OF YOU OTHER BEER FANATICS
I’ve been a homebrewer for more than thirty years. I’ve made thousands of bottles of wine over the years because I’m just not a big fan of beer. My few attempts at making beer were miserable failures or that’s what I’ve been told by the “Beer” people. It was a fun hobby and mostly kept me at home and out of trouble for years. When I notice something related to home brewing, I always save it for later use. This post has been in my files for a lot of years, and I can’t even remember where it came from, so I dusted it off, and here it is. Maybe next Christmas it might motivate some of you “Beer” people give it a try.
“TWAS THE HOMEBREWER’S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS”
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Every creature was thirsty, including the mouse… The steins were empty, and the bottles were too The beer had been drunk with no time to brew.
My family was nestled all snug in their beds While visions of Christmas Ale foamed in their heads. Mama in her kerchief lamented the drought, She craved a pilsner and I, a large stout.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. Away to the kitchen, I flew like a flash, Opening the door with a loud bang and crash!
I threw on the switch and the lights, all aglow, Gave a luster of mid-day to the brew-pot below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear But Gambrinus himself, the patron of beer.
With a look in his eye, so lively and quick, He said, “You want beer? Well, here, take your pick.” More rapid than eagles, his recipes came As he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
“Now, Pilsener! Now, Porter! Now, Stout and Now Maerzen! On, Bitter! On, Lager! On, Bock and On Weizen!” “To the top of the bottles, the short and the tall, Now brew away, brew away, and fill them all!”
As dried hops before a wild hurricane fly, And then, without warning, settle down with a sigh, So towards the brew-pot, the ingredients flew, Malt extract, roasted barley and crystal malt, too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard it quite plain, The cracking open of each barley grain. As I drew in my head and was turning around, Into the kitchen, he came with a bound.
He was dressed like a knight, from his head to his toes, With an old family crest adorning his clothes. A bundle of hops, he had flung on his back, And the brewing began when he opened his pack.
His hops were so fragrant! His barley, how sweet! The adjuncts included Munich malt and some wheat. The malted barley was mashed in the tun, Then boiled with hops in the brew-pot ’till done.
Excitement had me gnashing my teeth, As the sweet smell encircled my head like a wreath. Beer yeast was pitched, both lager and ale, The wort quickly fermented; not once did it fail.
It was then krausened, or with sugar primed, And just being bottled when midnight had chimed. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I’d be shortly in bed.
He spoke not a word but kept on with his work, And capped all the bottles, then turned with a jerk. And laying a finger alongside his nose, He belched (quite a burp!) before he arose.
Clean-up was easy, with only a whistle, And away the mess flew, like the down on a thistle. And I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he left me the beer, “Merry Christmas to all and a HOPPY New Year!”
It’s officially Fall here in Maine. The temperature has fallen and the winter clothing and extra blankets have been unpacked. I’m sure there are snowblowers all over the state being readied for what is sure to be coming. If that doesn’t depress you a little then nothing will. Today’s post contains limericks written in the late sixties and early seventies and should be considered poetry of a sort. They’ve even been categorized to make it easier for me to choose. Today’s theme will be “Virgins”. Enjoy!
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