Monday, July 07, 2008
Beer Fear
(1)
Today was a typical Monday. I woke up refreshed at about 1000 hours. Kootch left as usual at 0700. I went back to sleep. Recent gas/radiation have been minimal, and I have been enjoying a more or less normal life recently. Very strange!
So, as is my usual practice, I began to wonder about my most recent blog entries. I had only vague memories, totally unreliable. I had done the blog drunk as a skunk, as usual, and I had the 'new week jitters:' Had I totally fucked up and forgot about it? The internal tension was noticable. I therefore did the usual: I downed a few beers and read last week's results this afternoon after Kootch and I had watched Millionaire. (I needed the booze to prepare me and/or fortify me against potentially traumatic discoveries. I do it every week.)
Joy! I seemed to have handled a difficult subject reasonably gracefully under the circumstances.
I was so satisfied, in fact, that I decided to expand my 'beer limit of four' (could not contact Blogger) to six, half my stash of twelve. I would later give up and expand it to twelve. What the hell... You only live once!
You might not be aware of the fact that every beer has a rudimentary consciousness. (Strange but true. If you believe in UFOs then you must also believe in Beer Consciousness.) All beers were at risk and they knew it, having studied me carefully over the previous several days as they enjoyed their cool environment in the fridge. They all knew that I would eventually rip them open and drink them. They furthermore knew that there was no possible escape: they were doomed. They went through the five stages of death. I am confident that my most recent ingestations experienced only #2 and #5 (you need not experience all five stages) given that I am a well-known beer lover: they all knew that I loved them. They loved me back.
Today was a typical Monday. I woke up refreshed at about 1000 hours. Kootch left as usual at 0700. I went back to sleep. Recent gas/radiation have been minimal, and I have been enjoying a more or less normal life recently. Very strange!
So, as is my usual practice, I began to wonder about my most recent blog entries. I had only vague memories, totally unreliable. I had done the blog drunk as a skunk, as usual, and I had the 'new week jitters:' Had I totally fucked up and forgot about it? The internal tension was noticable. I therefore did the usual: I downed a few beers and read last week's results this afternoon after Kootch and I had watched Millionaire. (I needed the booze to prepare me and/or fortify me against potentially traumatic discoveries. I do it every week.)
Joy! I seemed to have handled a difficult subject reasonably gracefully under the circumstances.
I was so satisfied, in fact, that I decided to expand my 'beer limit of four' (could not contact Blogger) to six, half my stash of twelve. I would later give up and expand it to twelve. What the hell... You only live once!
You might not be aware of the fact that every beer has a rudimentary consciousness. (Strange but true. If you believe in UFOs then you must also believe in Beer Consciousness.) All beers were at risk and they knew it, having studied me carefully over the previous several days as they enjoyed their cool environment in the fridge. They all knew that I would eventually rip them open and drink them. They furthermore knew that there was no possible escape: they were doomed. They went through the five stages of death. I am confident that my most recent ingestations experienced only #2 and #5 (you need not experience all five stages) given that I am a well-known beer lover: they all knew that I loved them. They loved me back.
