Hops. Yeast. BAC. All good things. This blog examines the subculture of fine ale and the discerning, whimsical palette. You don't have to be over 21 to enjoy these postings, but I do recommend you play along at home.
- Name: Ryan Darst
Sometimes when a group of people dine together, they talk. Usually, this always happens, unless that dinner party is made up of mutes and the deaf. (Which very well could be a peaceful, relaxing meal. One I'll never know.) Sometimes, the stuff people talk about is, to put it nicely, "everyday" or "run of the mill" or "fucking boring." Sometimes, you have to shake it up. Sometimes, the stuff people talk about, rather, the stuff Gibson (Warriors fan, remember?) talks about involves masturbating on a regular basis at a local and prestigious university's library while on the job. (Getting paid to whack off has got to be on of the all-time great, if not rarely practiced, pastimes of the male species. And requires, literally and not so literally, some grande cajones.) Sometimes, people share too much about themselves. And sometimes, a dinner party of mostly conservative females wishes they stayed home that night. The moral of the story is, next time you go to he library, lift the seat up and hover.
If Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman were to square off in an universe-on-the-line kinda brawl, who's side would you be on?
Would you take up a shield and spear, and stand alongside the scion of the Gods, protecting a mythic legacy of Diana of Themyscira? Would you join forces with a mild mannered reporter's alter ego and fight for Truth, Justice and the American Way? Would you, as a fellow human, take up arms with mankind's greatest detective, The Dark Knight?
In a way, this decision is the kind of choice that separates us. Choices between vanilla, chocolate or jamoca almond fudge reflect who we truly are. Choices like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones or Hanson. Well-done, medium-rare or tofu? Seinfeld, Cheers or Jim Lehrer News Hour? Choices, indeed. Batman, Superman or Wonder Woman?
A Night at the Opera
Talk about deflating. The hometown (and perpetually bad) Golden State Warriors had a 19 point lead over the visiting (and perpetually bad) Los Angeles Clippers, and I'm sitting in the arena, hands tugging down the bill of my red hat, amid a sea of fairweather fans. Buddies Jiminy and Gibson were clapping backs and slpping hands, gearing up for a racous, blowout-floavored 4th Quarter.
But it never happened. The Clips rallied, blending stifling "D" and clutch jumpers to pull back into the game while the Warriors went ice-cold. Brand ripped down boards, Cat Mobley found the open man. Sam I Am nailed a few Js, hands in his face. Even benchmen Wilcox and Ewing made key plays that brought the Clip Show all the way back. Score tied. Warriors have one last chance and fellow UCLA alum and current GSW star dribbles the rock off his foot. Ballgame.
If you've never heard 15,000 people fall silent at the same time, well, I encourage to get tickets to the next Warriors game.
Beef stew gets better after you let it sit a week. So when somebody says somebody else is "stewing," does that means that person is getting better? Developing tenderness? Adding flavor?
Lamb stew most likelygets better with age, too, albeit over a shorter period of time due to its higher fat content.