I will not lessen this post with too many words. Chicks who drink beer are sexy and slutty… perfect!
Caveman Conclusion: Women who drink beer have more sex.
I just had to write about one of the funniest nights of my life. I was actually bored enough in my pathetic life that I went to bingo. That’s right, bingo.
My wife has been going to bingo every once in a while for the past few years. Occasionally she wins some money. I decided to tag along to find out what it’s all about.
On the way, I stopped at the BP and grabbed a 12-pack of Rolling Rock and a fountain drink cup to conceal my alcoholic beverage. My wife was a bit skeptical, but I assured her I would maintain civility.
Bingo is quite the experience if you have never been. Not for the game itself, but for the behavior of the bingo patrons. The crowd is mostly made up of women, mostly old women. There are a few men sprinkled in here and there, and even few young folks like myself. I found it quite interesting how some of them had arranged their 47 “bingo daubers” in different ways almost as if it was some sort of superstitious ritual. Some of them even had specially made carrying cases for them.
As I played the game, I began to get bored. I should have stayed home. Since I had to stay until it was over, I figured I would entertain myself.
My wife evidently began to feel that her earlier concerns were justified after out of boredom I began to yell things that are evidently somewhat taboo in the realm of bingo maniacs.
I almost cried with laughter after I, in a rather loud, obnoxious voice, yelled “Bigalow!” The look on my wife’s face as the surrounding bingo nuts began to become increasingly hostile towards me.
“Hey, I didn’t yell Bingo,” I said.
“Stop it,” she exclaimed.
The reaction of the fat and old bingo ladies around me was hilarious. They looked as if I had just committed some sort of felony.
The actual view of the bingo hall from my seat.
It wasn’t until I yelled “BUNGALO” that I began to receive serious looks of hatred and disgust. How dare I demean and disrespect the longstanding history and honorable institution that is bingo?
My wife was getting upset at me so I had to knock it off, but goddamn it I haven’t laughed that hard in so long. I think I might have pulled a muscle during my laughing fit.
The ride home was a quiet one. I just drove and smiled.
Caveman Conclusion: Bingo is about as much fun as watching puppies drown.
Please read Part 1 and Part 2.
Well my friends, I’m sorry to say that I have failed. I am not much of a beggar. My efforts to secure tasty adult beverages for free have proven fruitless indeed. So, I decided to ask for other crap just to see if I could get anything from them. I replied to the stuffy secretary with the following email.
“Ok, I digress. I really love Sierra Nevada Pale Ale though. Could you maybe send me a bunch of your promotional items? Like maybe a hat, shirt, beer mug, an autographed picture of your sweet arse in a Sierra Nevada bikini perhaps?”
I was kind of hoping that a little flirtation would aid in my efforts. I was wrong.
“We appreciate your tenacity regarding the procurement of free items, but we cannot send hats and t-shirts to everyone who asks. And a lot do.”
While I completely understand their decision not to give me free items, I really wish they had been more honest about why. That is the way of things now. I get it. They must massage and sanitize their correspondence to sound as though they would love to do it, but can’t due to circumstances beyond their control. They should know that I know the truth. Just tell me “NO” you bastards instead of jerking me off with false reasoning.
For the record, although I am disappointed, I do enjoy the beer and will continue to buy it. It’s the same reason people hate WalMart but continue to shop there. You may hate the way WalMart takes over towns by driving out small businesses and treats their employees like Kathy Lee Gifford sweatshop workers, but you are consumers and therefore understand that a bargain trumps all that other stuff despite the fact that the made in China shit you just bought will break after 6 weeks.
Really though, they did not even have to reply to my emails. It’s like those street beggars asking you for spare change. You know you have change in your pocket that you could give, but tell them no and keep walking. You are not required to tell them the truth. You do not owe them the truth. And besides, is any money really spare anyway? No.
Caveman Conclusion: If you ask to be anally raped don’t be surprised if they oblige you.
Over a year ago I completely tore my anterior cruciate ligament (ACL). The ACL is a ligament in the knee. I was stupid. Not regular stupid, I was Corky from Life Goes On stupid. Here is what happened.
I had just bought my first home. It was a brand new home out in the sticks on an acre with a brand new toilet that had never been desecrated. I was happy. I took a brief break from moving and decided to celebrate with a few Rolling Rock.
After about six beers, for some reason I thought I would continue the celebration by performing a few stunts on my dirt bike. A total redneck move, I know. Just as you have by now guessed, this is where things went horribly wrong.
Now, I consider myself a decent rider. I don’t race, never have, and can’t hit jumps like those guys do, but I can ride around pretty good and hit tiny jumps like a pro. I have a 2001 Honda CR250 (pic at right), which is fast as hell. Previous to this incident I took a weekend trip and practiced my wheelie pulling all day. I was pretty good at it.
It is true what they say about alcohol reducing your reaction time. I pulled the throttle back and due to my impairment, didn’t roll it back off soon enough. I flipped the bike, fell off and totally jacked up my knee. It hurt. It hurt a lot. If you’ve ever had somebody hit you with a sledge hammer then you understand. I went to the hospital where they took x-rays and told me I had torn my ACL.
Tomorrow I go in for surgery to repair it. The doc says it’ll be stronger than before. They are going to take a cadaver tendon and replace my torn ligament with it by screwing it into both bones. Sounds gross. I will have dead person parts in me.
I wonder if having someone’s body parts changes you. You know, like if I get a Mexican then I’ll start craving refried beans or start saying “jes” instead of “yes” or something. If so, I hope it’s a male at least. If I start posting crap about how I enjoyed the sunset or my monthly cycle then you know I got stuck with a female part.
So… I will be out for a bit.
Caveman Conclusion: Stupid hurts.
Please read Free Beer Experiment, Part 1.
The other day I received a response from a secretary from Sierra Nevada. On a side note, you people that refer to yourself as either “Administrative Assistant” or “Executive Assistant” I have news for you. You’re a secretary. Now get in here, unbutton that shirt, and show me what a nasty girl you are.
She replied with the following email, she’s so cute, notice how she pays attention to the little details, like GETTING MY NAME RIGHT! I wonder how many oversexed, spank-me-Daddy, swing-from-the-chandelier hangovers were mandatory for graduation from secretary school. Funny, she chose to work for a brewery, how appropriate.
Unfortunately, Ken, since Sierra Nevada brews alcoholic beverages, there are several regulations which do not allow us to donate beer to consumers.
Laura Harter
Executive Assistant
Sierra Nevada Brewing Co.
Well, two can play that game honey. And what’s with these regs? You can’t give away beer anymore? What kind of communist shite is that. Again, I am reminded of why I packed my bags, turned in my hammer and sickle, and moved the hell out of the people’s republic of California. Now, VER ARE YOUR PAPERS! HOGAN! (See how I mixed 3 communist states in there? If I worked harder perhaps I could’ve squeezed in Cuba.)
My reply:
Lisa, maybe we can find a way around the regulations. What if I were to buy a case for $0.01? I think if I save for a few weeks and work overtime I can swing it. This way, we get around those silly regulations and we both get what we want. I get to drink my fermented beverage of choice and you get the pleasure of knowing that you’ve succeeded in helping out your fellow man achieve righteousness. We both win! Your path to heaven is paved.
So Linda, what do ya say now?
-Caveman
A simple “No, you loser. Go buy the beer and quit begging us for it you cheap bastard!” would have sufficed. Making up some lame-ass, mysterious regs as your scapegoat so you don’t have look like the bad guy? Bogus.
I decided to drink Sam Adams in protest this weekend. Good ole Sammy Boy, never let’s me down. Well, except for that one morning. I woke up on the neighbor’s lawn surrounded by beer bottles. My ass and jaw were sore and my underwear was on backwards. Weird.
Caveman Conclusion: Down’s Syndrome is retarded.
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