Thursday, August 16, 2007

There are some things in this world whose vast popularity baffles me. But no matter how much I find these things boring or a waste of time or utterly gross, I’ve learned not to fight ‘em. ‘Cause going with the flow has its rewards. And also, who knows -- if everyone else likes it, maybe I’m just weird.

Beer: Never liked it. I tried ‘em all throughout my college years, and the “acquired taste” eluded me. So when my girlfriend and I hosted a 4th of July shindig (long overdue props to party-goers Mike, Hilary, Nanette & Brett and Amy), I knew we should get lots of suds for our guests… but what kind? I didn’t know; it all tastes like urine to me. Adelphia suggested Pabst Blue Ribbon.

‘Cause it was cheap? "No," she said, "‘cause it’s patriotic." ‘Cause the can’s red, white and blue? "That, and because real Americans drink PBR," she said.

I assumed she was right, that Billy Carter was a real American, but I couldn’t help but suspect that people in LA aren’t like the rest of the country. Just as they barely touched the carb-heavy potato salad (though they did devour Hilary's cupcakes), they preferred Pale Ale to Pabst. Pretentious, perhaps? No idea. Piss is piss, I say.

Point is, I practically had a case of it leftover, and couldn’t unload it on any of my friends. Some of my coworkers who are originally from Texas or the Midwest insisted they love that stuff, but when I brought in a few cans for their end-of-the-week episode screening enjoyment, the booze went untouched. Show biz ruins you, man. If that shit was mojitos they’d be gone faster than you can say “tapas”.

I was gonna throw out the beer, but hated to waste something that could get someone wasted. I was about to drop it off by a dumpster near my mother’s assisted living facility, when I saw the maintenance guy walk by. “Hey,” I said. “Do you like beer?” He looked at me like it was the dumbest question anyone could ask. So I offered him the case, but still made excuses for it not being microbrewery. The maintenance man thanked me a million times and snatched the case out of my hands.

I was just happy to be rid of it, but the beer bestowal came with a bonus. The next time I visited my mom, all the overdue repairs on her apartment were done. Amazing how much was accomplished and such a short time had elapsed. Thanks to the Pabst, perhaps? Sure as hell wasn’t schnapps.

Next: Pinkberry


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