I Love Molson

Last night, I was over at the Tiki with my girls. I decided to take a break from watching Willie Wonka and headed into the indoor Tiki. I sat down to have a chat with John and Frank. Frank had just gone into the kitchen to get himself a beer and he offered me one, as always.

"Hey, Jen," he called, "Do you want a beer?"

I was just about to say no when he followed up with, "It's a Molson."

"You've got Molson?!?" I sat up straighter in my chair and my eyes opened wide with surprise.

"Yep," he said.

"I'll take it." I said.

John got a kick out of how excited I got over a Molson. Ordinarily, I turn down offers of beer, or I try to anyway. I like beer, but I don't have the passion for it that Doc does. But Frank usually keeps offering until I take one, so eventually, I give in and accept it. It's usually Budweiser, a beer that I have recently become extremely fond of. I used to scoff at Budweiser, preferring stout or German beer. I had bought the idea that American beer was watered down and beneath contempt. But in these thin days, I've come to look forward to sipping from a dark brown bottle of American lager. It's best out of a bottle. It's fizzy, and beery and not the least bit bitter. Also, it will forevermore remind me of Frank and his generousity and friendship.

But this post is about Molson...

I gladly accepted the bottle of Molson Golden from Frank and took a sip. And, to tell the truth, it was disappointing. It reminded me a bit of Corona, which I loathe. But I drank it; imported beer is a rare treat these days. It was cold and fizzy, but it was a bit sweet for my tastes. And a bit skunky. I must admit, I prefer Molson Canadian, which is crisp and dry, not such a sweet beer. I did enjoy drinking this Molson Golden, though, it gave me the opportunity to talk to Frank, John and Wally, while Ms. Snap looked after my kids, a sweet fifteen minutes to be sure.