orange you glad I didn't say banana?

I have to admit I chose this beer initially because of the 13% alcohol content.  I needed a quick fix.  I knew I had made the right choice when I saw both the happy go lucky devil in the moonlight, and the wee goblet that my beer was to be poured in.

Then my eyes travelled down and saw why this beer and I were meant to be:

I was just explaining to somebody how I've come to realize that twirling your hair is a lot like smoking a cigarette.  If you've never actually done it you are really bad and awkward at pretending to do it, but once you've actually done it as a habit you understand the subtle intricacies.  It's not that I twirl my hair because I'm a dumb blond, it just really does feel good and gives my busy hands something to do while I think about dumb blond things.

But back to the beer.  I liked this Belzebuth from France, it had a very orange flavor to it that was unexpected and nice.  It almost tasted like a blue moon after you've dropped the orange wedge in it.  Except way more alcoholic.

After my Belzebuth and my dinner I decided I should have one of the dessert sounding beers.  I had been eyeballing this one last time so I figured I'd just bite the bullet and get it:

And let me tell you, gross.  Actually, Gross, with a capital "g".  The banana flavor was just so intense.  It was as if somebody had taken all the banana runts they didn't want and dumped them in to a beer.  And I was so optimistic about it too.

I will say though that had I not gotten it I wouldn't have read the neck and been reminded of one of my favorite memories of all time:

Andrew came to visit me in new york for his 21st birthday way back in the college days.  Andrew's birthday being in February meant that it was one of those "blizzard of the century" kind of deals that it seems new yorkers claim every winter.  I was determined to show Andrew a good time so we went downtown and bummed around from empty bar to empty bar.  Somehow as midnight approached we were at a bodega and I insisted that Andrew get a beer to chug at midnight to celebrate being 21.  Andrew (of his own volition) chose one of those big cans of Foster's.

I will just never forget Andrew standing on the street in the falling snow outside some random bodega in downtown new york, trying to chug a freezing cold fosters, saying over and over, "I can't do this!  It's like trying to drink a loaf of liquid bread!"

But he had to, it was his duty that night.  And it was all worth it when we finally arrived back home and he threw up all over his own car before he realized it was his car.

Good times.