Scott met me at Shakespeare's to play pool, and so I could knock a few beers off my list. I liked the name of this one, and then I liked the bottle even more. Katy and I were just talking about how important the cover of a book is and how the image can make or break the book before you even pick it up. This of course flies in the face of the whole, "don't judge a book by the cover" thing, but we both agreed it's true so get over it.
And talk about a well named beer, I can think of no better way to describe it than robust.
I needed to eat before I could play pool so I was already on to my second beer before we even started.
Sticking to the theme of picking my beer by the name I went with "old engine oil". It wasn't bad, it was supposed to have a chocolate flavor that I didn't get quite as much as with some of the others I've tried, but it wasn't bad. I would get it again if I saw it on a menu somewhere, mostly because I'll remember the name.
Anyways, I blame the beer (and the racking) for the travesty that occurred on the billiards table that evening...
I guess I forgot the part where Scott was some kind of pool hustler. If the games didn't cost a dollar each, and go by in a matter of minutes, I would have stayed longer and tried to improve my craft. Unfortunately this blood bath was over before it even really began.
I'll redeem myself next time.
