French Hookers
I don’t really have much to say tonight, which in the past has led to some classic blogs. Hopefully (for me, not you) I can avoid going off on a tangent tonight. I haven’t done a beer blog in quite some time, so maybe tonight it is appropriate. It is a shame how I’ve fallen by the wayside on not doing my beer reviews with any frequency. The problem is I just enjoy beer too much. I get caught up enjoying my beverage before I can ever write down what I’m enjoying. Some people drink alcohol because they crave that buzz or need the release from reality. You’ll often find those people drinking about the cheapest alcohol they can find. Have some self respect! I drink beer because I thoroughly enjoy the flavor(s). Sure, the buzz can be appealing on some evenings, but by and large I drink because I love beer, not because I love being a drunk. And, I’m not going to lie, most the time I just want to sit back in my recliner and sip, OK who am I kidding here, gulp my 1 or 2 beers for the evening and not concern myself with typing out my flavor and consumption experience.
So tonight I actually have a healthy selection on hand to choose from. Four great breweries vie for my pint glass, the first one which becomes Two Brothers Brewing based out of Illinois. I’m drinking their Domaine DuPage for starters. Over the past couple of months this beer has really become a regular contributor to my waist line. Besides being a local brewery and also one of the many breweries I used to sell for and represent, the biggest factor for my recent increased consumption is my local watering hole Old Chicago has it on draft. Now OC surely isn’t my preferred bar to visit, but it is the one closest to my house and therefore gets a fair chunk of my income. And I’m OK with that.
So the Domaine, as the name may suggest, is a French Country Ale style. I can’t say I was a fan of French Country Ales prior to this particular one, namely because I can’t think of one off the top of my head, but I now will now consider any FCA I come across as a possibility thanks entirely to the Domaine. It is a beer that I’vecome to thoroughly enjoy and appreciate. First, it isn’t overly alcoholic at just under 6% abv. This means I can drink several of these beers and remain social at the same time, otherwise known as “session ales” because of their ability to allow a long evening of drinking. Another reason why I like the lower alcohol is because this beer simply invites me to gulp it back; it’s just that easy drinking. It is copper in color and filtered clear and from the instant it hits your tongue is creamy sweet. Thank you roasted malt. The malt overtones leave as quick as they come however, and a very slight but certainly present hop finish overtakes the mouth, simply inviting another swallow. It is a dangerously drinkable beer. A solid 4 mug rating by me. It won’t knock your socks off with flavor or uniqueness, but it warrants the purchase and will vanish quicker than you expect.
My mother gave me a gardenia plant about 2 months ago. It has grown well but just today opened its first flowers. Two buds in all, and they smell wonderful. The moment I open the front door to my house I smell the sweet succulent smell of gardenia. And that’s with just 2 buds; I have about a dozen more buds ready to burst open. My house may finally stop smelling like a bachelor pad overridden with beer farts. I’m sure the ladies can’t wait.
Speaking of ladies, in one of our usual round table discussions at work during our periods of lull I was asked to give a one word description for women. The word I quickly choose was “prostitute.” Naturally this response garnered a varied response which seemed to be divided by gender. The guys laughed; the ladies were miffed. An explanation was not only warranted, it was requested. First, let me say affirmatively that I have never ever once purchased myself a true legitimate prostitute. One time as a freshman in high school as I waited for my mother to come pick me up a crack head toothless bum chick offered to suck me off for $10. I’m not saying I would have accepted the offer, but… I can tell you I know I didn’t have $10 on me that day. That’s the closest I have come (no pun intended) to true prostitution.
Be that as it may, allow me to pass along some wisdom I have collected from men that have choose to go the hooker route. Never, ever, and I mean never get yourself one hooker. Sillyness and buffoonery. If you are going to do this, go big. Get yourself two hookers.
Shit, drank the last of my Domaine. Stuff doesn’t last long. Almost as if they are putting 8 ounces in those 12 ounce bottles. I’m going to drink the Dogfish Head Midas Touch next. I’m not going to blog about it tonight, but suffice it to say you should be really jealous of me right now. Unless of course you are reading my blog drinking a Midas Touch. In that case I’m jealous of you because by the time you are reading this I’m not drinking a Midas Touch. Hardly seems fair. I’m just going to imagine you are not reading this drinking a Midas Touch. I much prefer the thought that you are jealous of me. Ha! I just took my first sip. Wowzers. Sucks to be you.
So as I was saying, I have never ever once paid directly to have sex. But I have have paid each and every time I have had sex. Look, single guys are very happy being single – until the time they want to get laid. Suddenly we need a women around. The only purpose a women serves a single male is sex. The only purpose taking a women out on a date is to obtain a little piece of ass. In that sense all women are prostitutes because they know this. They know the only reason they exist in their date’s life is because he wants a piece of the pie. Some women are cheap prostitutes. A night out at the bars and bingo banga bongo. Some women are really expensive prostitutes and require multiple evenings out for dinner. Be that as it may, whatever dollar amount that guy just paid, he paid it for only one reason and it isn’t your stimulating conversation about going to the mall with your BFF to find the perfect shoes for your ex-BFF’s wedding that you have to attend even though you currently can’t stand that bitch because she didn’t like your new hair style.
So that’s it; that’s my argument. I’ve never had sex with a women that I hadn’t paid cash value for and I’m certainly not in the minority. Don’t like being labeled a prostitute? Take me out for drinks until I’m drunk, feed me at a restuarant until my belly is full, then left me fuck the shit out of you. You can then call me a prostitute. I’ve got big shoulders; I can carry that burden.
One has to think that the government outlawed prostitution solely so single women with morals could obtain dates. Let’s face it, an evening with a prostitute is likely less expensive than dinner and drinks out. Not to mention getting laid is a sure thing and without all the bullshit gossip and small talk women put us through. What guy would actually gamble with spending more on a date to not get laid over spending less for exactly what he wanted and nothing more? Once again man gets bent over by big brother.
The best part about my arguement is when the ladies claim they will have sex with a man regardless if he pays for it or not. “A man doesn’t have to take me out for dinner for me to have sex with him” they’ll say. Well, I’d say that may not make you a prostitute, but that does make you a slut.
