Beer Is My Friend

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I used to drink a lot of beer.  Actually, who am I kidding? I still drink a lot of it. Beer is my friend. We have been through some pretty tough times together and we’re still kicking…… and belching and farting, but whatever.

My point is about our friendship. It doesn’t grow on trees you know, or does it? No, I guess barley is a bush or a crop or something, not a tree. Holy crap, beer is my best friend and I don’t even know its story. All I ever think about is that cool, clean and refreshing taste. I am so selfish and self absorbed. I think only of my thirst, and my needs, as I rip its head off, time and time again.

What a bad friend I am. I should ask more questions and maybe every once in a while, I should just listen. Or maybe not, sometimes beer gives me bad advice when it talks to me. Like when it says “ go ahead Don, you can dance,” or, have another one Don, work won’t suck in the morning.” It doesn’t always end well. Oh, well, who cares?

Maybe beer is not my friend at all, maybe we should go our separate ways. I’m pretty sure I could meet new drinks.

Wow, what a stupid thing to say. What a terrible thought, sorry beer. I just can’t imagine life without you.

Most of my adult decisions have actually been made by beer, my fun stick, or a combination of both. My brain has always been a distant third when it comes to the decision making process.

When I screw up, I blame the beer, and like a true friend, it accepts all responsibility.

Hey,

you ever have one of those nights where you black out and can’t remember if you drove home?  It’s a horrible feeling.

You take that sickening, gut wrenching walk to the window to see if your car is in the driveway.  

You open up the curtains and realize…………… it’s not your fucking window!!!  

You’re in a strange house…… you don’t remember how you got there…… and something just moved in the bed.  

You slowly pull the covers down thinking to yourself, “ please be a girl, please be a girl,” and thankfully it is.  She starts to wake up and you realize that you don’t even know her name, so you quickly rifle through her purse and check out her ID.

She wakes up…… puts in her teeth…… and says something like……” Donald I love you.”  You reply…… “yes…… Bubbles…….. I love you too.”

Before she is fully awake you make an excuse to leave the room, and you run. You run like you’ve never run before.  You don’t stop running until you are miles and miles away and you see an open bar…..and…. you start drinking again heavily …. until….you get plastered and do it all again.           

……Nope, never happened to me either.  

Don

Any other beer lovers out there? Leave comments and ideas below.

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