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Liquor Before Beer, Never Fear

There are a lot of people who like beer.


A sign from a bar near my house.  Apparently they didn’t have a liquor license for a bit and were really excited to tell people they got it back.

In fact, a majority of people I know love beer and I’m pretty sure I could have paid for my college tuition with bottle returns from family functions if my crazy uncle didn’t hoard them every time so he could buy batteries for his metal detector.

But I, for one, couldn’t care less about beer. In fact, I’ve never had more than a sip of the stuff and despite the fact that it would be a cheaper option than my Vodka for the couple times a year I have a drink, I have no desire to try and acquire a taste for it.

Is it because I worked as a cocktail waitress the summer of my 21st birthday and the exposure to dollar drafts and douchebags debauchery turned me off?

Possibly, but that didn’t stop me from “sowing my oats” and celebrating that whole summer. I have stories, but I also have memories of having to serve Mexican food while nursing the worst hangover of my life due to an ill-advised Four Horseman shot and half a bottle of Vanilla Stoli after work the night/early morning before at a frat house.

It’s been nine years and I still can’t smell vanilla without getting nauseous.

At any rate, I never took to beer. I also tried to like wine, but it gave me a headache and reminded me of church, which just made me feel guilty on top of feeling hungover.

But that brings me to the stereotypical beer vs. wine person debate.

There used to be this image of beer drinkers being “everyday” blue collar workers asking for Busch in a can at a restaurant and crushing the can on their foreheads, while wine drinkers were women who “did lunch” and requested pinot with their pedicures.

When I was serving I had a woman who always sat on the patio and ordered draft beer in a wine glass because she wanted to drink beer but look classy to the people walking by.

Yes, because fine wine always has a tan hue and a head of foam.

Anyway, at least around my city, microbreweries and beer festivals have been popping up just as much as wine bars and vineyard tours. It’s not just Miller Lite now, but beer with ingredients like fruit, chocolate and coffee, meaning there are more options and more people taking to the hops.

This also means the stereotypical “lines” are blurred and there are now beer snobs and wine pounders, wine snobs and beer pounders, men who drink wine, women who drink beer and that weirdo who will ask for her beer in a wine glass.

I still get confused with all the options and considering the fact that I’ve only tried the crap from the tap and not some hoity-toity mix of hops, I admit I can’t really say I don’t like beer.

However, I don’t think I’m willing to try.

If I’m feeling the need to imbibe, I’ll just spend my money on a Vodka gimlet, fully aware that one is all it takes to turn this lightweight into an (even more) unfiltered karaoke queen ready to perform “Baby Got Back” with the enthusiasm of a used car salesman doing his own commercials.

But if you need to grab a beer—holy s*#t—I can tell you where to find it.

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Side note: If you’re still having a problem leaving comments, here’s a pseduo-explanation from the “Happiness Engineers” at WordPress. My self-esteem is based entirely on external validation (and sarcasm), so let’s get this issue resolved, now shall we?

Bust A Move

This is Post Two of the 30 Posts of Shamelessness Challenge—look a fool. 

I’m a skinny Polish white girl that can’t dance well, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still get out on the dance floor and give it all I’ve got.


In fact, if my dancing skills are challenged, I will take that opportunity to jump up on the stage and prove just how right you are as I bust a move and sing a bunch of made-up words that sound right in my head.

I generally just try and imitate whoever else is out there on the dance floor, throwing up my arms or doing some hybrid squat/Beyonce thing that ends up looking like a epileptic call for help, but I have fun.

And I’m always making faces, as I think it really adds to the sexy/dramatic effect, no?

For the record, that picture was taken at a club a couple of years ago.

I was completely sober.

Look a fool?

Done and done.

So, do you think you can dance?