Cold Mountain Winter Ale Makes You Drunk.

Hey bitches. I'm drinking one of the best beers in the history of beer. Please forgive any typos and/or stupid, non-sense bullshit.

Highland Brewing Company in Asheville makes some stellar beer. They have for years. Their Gaelic Ale (oh, grow up) is always excellent, always reliable. Their Oatmeal Porter is good, and I don't even like Porter. But they outdid themselves this winter by releasing the latest version of the Cold Mountain Winter Ale. It is phenomenal, and if you don't get to try it, I feel badly for you. Your life is not complete if you don't try this beer. It tastes like angels peed in a bottle and then the Pope christened it perfect. Other beers aspire to be able to be considered half as good as this beer, but they fail on a daily basis. They are every kid who has ever tried to be Michael Jordan but couldn't make a free throw to save their grandmother's life. Stop trying, fatty, you can't be like Mike.

OK, maybe that's a little overdramatic, because I've had 5 or 6 at this point. Which brings me to an important public service announcement. Friends don't let friends blog drunk. It's just not safe. Sure, it starts off innocently enough; a few funny cracks about a friend's bitchy girlfriend here, a few inappropriate remarks about some chick's titties there...a few laughs. But it can go turribly awry. Quickly.

How, you ask? I don't know right now because I'm distracted by Dave Chappelle. Holy fuck, that dude is funny. Your life is not complete if you don't watch Dave Chappelle. That's not overdramatic, your life really isn't anything special if you don't watch Dave Chapppelle. "That dirty monkey was beatin' on my hood!" HAHA. Clayton Bigsby...if you don't know...your life sucks. No. I am not occifer, drunk, sir.

Sorry. Maybe that was a little harsh. Maybe you haven't been exposed to Dave Chappelle. Maybe you lived in a far-too uptight vacuum several years ago when cable television was revolutionized by the funniest motherfucker to ever have a show. I can't hold that against you. It's not your fault. Really, it's not your fault. Somebody just hated you in 2004. I don't know who it was, but you should harbor a grudge against them until they apologize. How they could have kept you from the brilliance of the "Wrap it Up Box", the outtakes from Roots, or Charlie Murphy's stories about Prince and Rick James is bewildering. And maddening. They owe you. Whoever they are, they owe you reparations. HAHA, another brilliant skit by Chappelle..."I'm rich bitch!"

OK, so maybe I've had too much to drink. I never promised you when I started this blog that I wouldn't get sloppy sometimes, I never promised you every entry would make sense. If I had any ability at all to be an angry drunk, this is where I'd punch you for wondering out loud what the fuck I am rambling about. But, I'm a goofy, happy drunk, so I'll just agree with you...yeah...I am an idiot. This entry is stupid. I should never hit "Publish Post." But, I will, because I've spent way too much time backspacing and re-writing shit that doesn't make sense to turn back now. I have to commit to the post...because I love you people. No, seriously, I love you guys like family. I would totally step in front of a bus for you guys. Well, maybe not really a bus, but definitely a Toyota Prius. Well, maybe not a Prius, but definitely a Segway. Or a kid on a skateboard. Yeah, I would definitely step in front of a kid on a skateboard for you guys. I know, that's deep. But I love you guys.

Sorry for the vomit on your shoes. But you should have made me stop, man. Hold on, I think I need to pee.

Wait, what? Oh, yeah. I'm totally going to regret this blog entry in the morning. But, sometimes you have to sleep with the ugly chicks when you're drunk to get the worm. Or whatever. Fuck it, I'm going to bed.

Ooh...Huddle House...let's get some bacon!