Generation Gaps

I was at my Mom's house to pick up the girls after work. When I got there, Riley and Mom were working on Riley's homework. Lucy was sitting at the breakfast bar, sans shirt, eating mashed potatoes and gravy. Grandma was laying down, having stayed up to late watching the election results.

Eventually, Riley finished up and I had a salad. Grandma got up and sat down near by. We talked about how amazing last night was and got emotional. Well, I got emotional. As I was futzing around with my dishes, my Mom jumped and reached for a box...

"Oh, hey, Mom? Where are those glasses we bought?" she asked my Grandma.

"Over there on the counter."

"Look at this," Mom said as she showed me a box of ice shot glasses.

"What is that?"

"I think it's for making Jello shots, see?" she said as she pointed to the dark cherry contents of the glasses in the picture.

"Oh, they're so good! Aren't they, Mom?" my Mom asked of my Grandma.

"Oh, yes."

"Wait a minute," I said as I read the box, "These are "ice" shot glasses...they are glasses made of ice."

"I know," Mom said, "Aren't they pretty?"

"Well, yes, but they're not glass glasses...they're glasses made of ice."

"What?"

"Here, let me see," my Grandma said as she joined us at the counter.

"See," I said, "They're glasses, but they are ice..."

I pulled the instructions out to be sure I was right about this, and, yes, I was (see picture above). You pour the water in, put in the little mold to make the cup part and you freeze the daggone thing. Voila...ice shot glasses.

I explained as much and my Grandma looked at me quizzically and took the directions to read them for herself.

"Huh," Mom said.

"You couldn't make jello shots in these..." I said.

"Because they would melt," my Mom and I said in unison.

"It's really cool!" I said, getting excited about this silly little piece of whimsy. "You can freeze these up, pour in some booze, drink it up and eat the cup!" I was tickled because it reminded me of the Mad Hatter eating a tea cup in the cartoon version of Alice in Wonderland. I imagined myself whipping out frozen shot glasses for our annual Groundhog's Day party (mark you calendars now, folks).

"Or," I said, inspired now, "You could make boilermakers with them!!"

"Boilermakers?" my Mom asked.

"Yeah, isn't that where you get a beer and a shot and you drop the shot glass into the beer?" I asked.

"No," my Grandma said, "You toss back the shot, then drink the beer."

I gave her this point but made a mental note to check that fact with Doc.

"Well," I said, "They're really cool anyway."

"Take them home with you," my Mom said, "There was another one at the store and we'll go get it,"

"I'd really like to give them a shot..." I said and we chuckled at the pun, "I'm going to have to stop and get some booze..."

"Here," she said, turning to their fridge, "Here's most of a bottle of Margarita mix with the booze already in it."

She grabbed a Fisher's bag and started packing it up. I rounded up the kids and the steam cleaner Mom gave to me and hit the road, anxious to give this novelty a try. They're in the freezer as we speak and Doc said they're ready to go.

I let you know if they are all I hope them to be. I promise; I won't make jello shots in them.

Report...they are everything I thought them to be...but you gotta be quick!

Flannery
xoxox

Drinking Games

The drinking game is almost as old as the drink itself. I'm sure that the first guy to come up with the magic formula to convert sugar to alcohol immediately came up with a game to convince his buddies to drink it. I'm sure it came down to a "double dog dare you", but however it happened, we have been trying to make a sport of it ever since.

I think most all of us could name some kind of drinking game, as there are only just so many variations on an old theme. The race, the amount, as well as the social and the skill games.

The race involves a large amount of drink, or drinks, and the first one finished is declared the winner. The amount competitions are the worst, as it just becomes progressively uglier, as two or more people drink themselves blind.

The Skill games hinge on the fact that your reflexes slow with your consumption of alcohol, as well as your balance, hand-eye coordination, and your ability to perform sexually. Quarters is a good example of a skill game, as you have to bounce a quarter into a cup and make some one else drink the drink. If you fail, you have to drink. The object of the game is to stay as sober as you can while making your competitors drunk. By joining the game, you have already lost.

The social games usually involve cards (Bullshit) or dice (Mexican dice or Asshole), and in some instances T.V. (have you ever played "Hi Bob" while watching Newhart?) A group of people sit down to consume alcohol but do it by a set of rules, using some random generator, and the games call for very little skill.

Of all of them, I have only played Quarters, and only once. It was on a church outing in a Columbus hotel room with about fifteen other under-age Christians. We filled the tub with ice and lots of Old Milwaukee, and played Quarters until the wee hours. The next day we really needed coffee, and the last thing we needed was a sermon on vice.

The other games I've never played, but I have witnessed them being played, and played poorly. I could never understand the gluttony of it. Why ruin a perfectly good beer by trying guzzle it? And at what point in the evening did you set the goal for yourself to be the last one to barf? No, I think I'd rather sit back and enjoy a cold one and chat with my friends and enjoy their company, rather than pour three gallons of drink down my gullet.

I know. I drank with the preacher's son.

Doc

Things That Amuse Me

I was thinking today about things that amuse me. The kind of things that everytime I come across them, I catch myself smiling, even if I'm having a bad day. I'm sure there are things that do this for you, so please feel free to include them in the comments, but here is a short list of mine.

1. I love to see old gray haired men with earrings. It makes me laugh every time.


2. I love to see an elderly couple holding hands.


3. Every time I see a very pregnant woman I think to myself, "Now there is a well plowed field!" I can't explain why this occurs to me every time.


4. Little kids laughing.


5. A really good joke. It doesn't have to be dirty, but it helps.


6. People who wear shorts in frigid tempetures.


7. The infinite variety of things that people are willing to tattoo on themselves.


8. People with an interesting accent.


9. People who do their grocery shopping in their PJ's.


10. The wonderful "Fsst" sound of a newly cracked beer, or the unmistakeable sound of a cork popping. Somedays, ever the subtle squeek of a screw-top is welcome.


11. Warm underwear, right out of the dryer.


12. Gummibears or Swedish Fish.


13. Opera slippers.


14. Mel Brooks, Buster Keaton, and Flannery.


15. Finding money in the pocket of a coat, pair of pants, or the sofa.


16. When I sound witty and I didn't mean to.


17. Making every green light.


18. When I finally think of a really great comeback to a conversation that happened three days ago.


19. Payday.


20. Tiki, because every time I go, I laugh long and hard, and I learn something.

Well there you have it. The list is by no means complete, but it is all I can think of at the moment. I sure I'll think of something else tomorrow, but this is a good start. As we enter the final days before the holiday I find it helpful to think of amusing things. It makes the horrible sweater you get really funny for the photos, and the relatives more interesting. If all else fails, be naughty and save Santa a stop.

Doc

Gentle Reader, It Saddens Me...

It seems that the price of beer is going up. In a short article in Newsweek they cite the fact that farmers are planting more corn for biodiesel, and a lot less barley. Less barley, means a higher price for the crop come harvest time. Prices for barley are up 79% in 11 months.

They also mention higher demand for steel for kegs, and glass. The U.S. reports keg shortages as well as the price of the average pint up 3.8%. Scottish and Newcastle, big time brewers in the U.K., raised prices 3.9% in March. In Feb. Hieneken predicted the cost would rise 7-8%. In Germany at Oktoberfest a liter was $10.90, up a dollar from '05. And get this, South African Brewers, yes Miller Beer Inc. has had trouble getting glass as well as having trouble filling orders. To make up for the whole mess, they are going to raise their prices.

Now as I see it, this is a powerful encouragement to start recycling, and if you have an old keg in the basement, you know, left over from your college days, now might be a good time to turn it in.

And if you are like me and get tired of mowing so much grass every summer, now might be a good time to consider having a garden next summer. Just sit down with your loved one and explain how you want to plant the whole backyard in barley so you start brewing your own beer in the fall. Tell them how it can be a project that the two of you can share together and how this will be good quality time. If that doesn't seal the deal, appeal to their logic and thriftyness. Tell them that this will save a lot of money out of the family budget, as well as get the kids "back to nature" and get them out of the house and doing something useful. It that still dosen't quite convince them, then promise to name the beer after them and throw them a party.

If any of this works with your loved one, tell me. I need something good to get Flannery to go for it.

Doc

Salty Coffee

I am a chronic coffee drinker. Always have been, always will be. We have a water softener, as our water is like drinking limestone, and sometimes it doesn't always cycle all of the salt out of the lines. I don't tend to remember these sorts of things first thing in the morning as I am making that magic elixir that starts my day.

I made coffee this morning and it smelled so good. I poured a tall mug full. I added a little milk to cool it to just the right tempeture, and give it the creamy flavor I love so much. I snuck off to the garage and lit the first blessed cigarette of the day. I blew to first puff out and took a big swig.

I gagged. I coughed. I sputtered. It was like drinking sea water.

Needless to say, my stomach has been off all day, and I have been more than a little salty myself, all day.

Sombitch.

Doc

A Rough Patch

I have been having a tough time for thirty days or so. I hurt my back and have been a horrible grump. To counter the back pain, I went the Johnny Cash route, with pills and gallons of beer. This was a poor remedy that was no help with the pain, or the insomnia, and left me a temperamental zombie. I quit eating. Days would pass in a fog, and I couldn’t tell one day from the next. I have been a jerk to everyone I know. It really didn’t occur to me what I was doing until the love of my life took me aside, and explained, in the most loving of terms, “You’re being a Dickhead!”

This was the first time in our long relationship that she had ever used this term of endearment. It’s true. I have been a Dickhead of the lowest order.

But now I am back to being me. I’ve had my back fixed. I quit taking the pills. I sleep at night, and have regained my appetite. I’m over a bad stomach ailment that left me weak and spent. I have put down the beer for a bit and have returned to the greatest brew I know, basking in the warmth of my loving family.

So, if in the last three weeks I’ve been a Dickhead to you, I’m truly sorry.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled Beer Blog.

Doc

SHAVE AND A HAIRCUT, TWO BITS

I have been absent for some time for good reason. I have not been able to sit upright for more than thirty minutes at a time, let alone do any typing. I have HURT my back. I have spent three days prone, on my back, with nothing to guide me but the slew of painkillers and muscle relaxers that the doctor prescribed, and the History channel. I have known nothing but pain, and lots of it. The hero in the wonderful film, “The Princess Bride” tells the princess half way through the film, “Life is pain Princess. Anyone who tells you different is trying to sell you something.” I firmly believe this; yet, I seek out various quacks to sell me their version of relief. I have consulted a chiropractor. I have consulted a general practitioner of medicine. One charged me $121, and sent me on my way, saying that the pain would subside in a few days, the other wrote me a prescription for pills that would drop a Clydesdale, with the same promise. I cannot believe either one, as both have proved false. As I have been my own best doctor since the tender age of 15, so I wrote my own prescription; beer, and lots of it. It does not, in any way, relieve pain, but does provide you with the opportunity to be drunk enough to not mind the agony that is your spine, as well as the chance to enjoy prescription medicine to it’s fullest, despite it’s warning labels.

I would not recommend this approach. This should be considered in the same light as using a band-aid for a heart attack. This isn’t a viable approach. Your family will start to worry, and your beer budget goes through the roof. Seek proper care. Ice packs, and if you have access, a hot tub. A massage from a loved one would also be in order.

That brings me to the title of this article. The phrase should be familiar to all English speaking people everywhere. Dah-da da dumb dumb, da da. Shave and a haircut, two bits, is the one signature knock, or rhythms that most people know. Much like enie-meanie mine-e moe. It is on of those things that you learn in childhood, and don’t tend to forget.

To make a long story longer, I was fighting my back pain with my own prescription, (e.g. pills, hot tub, and beer, etc. They call me Doc for many reasons.) when it occurred to me that what I really needed was something that can only be described as the “feminine touch”. I have been “hemmed up” or “stoved up” for over three weeks now. Man, as a rule, is a social creature, and seeks out the “attentions” of his mate.

In my mind, I was going to try to make myself more attractive for my mate. What woman hasn’t tried this? The folks at Avon have been peddling this for years. I have grown a mustache and my mate finds it deplorable, so, as a concession to her, I decided to give myself a little trim.

I still have the mustache.

I decided that my trim should be much further south. This, I thought, would make me more the rampant “stud” that she had married.

Such was not the case.

One should never attempt to cut ones own hair, any hair, sober or not. One should seek out a trained professional, or, at the very least, a trusted friend. Either one would provide much needed council against the whole plan and suggest a good steak and a well-deserved nights rest.

I had no such friend available.

I went ahead with the plan. I found a pair of scissors that had sky blue handles, long blades, and had, up to now, only tackled jobs of clipping coupons, and set myself to the task.

With every snip, they squeaked like a door to a haunted house, as if to warn me against the folly I was committing. In the fog that alcohol and prescription drugs can provide, this seemed like perfect idea, yet my aim was not as true as I had hoped. There were hairs that were at odd angles that I had not anticipated, not unlike my mustache, and proved themselves wily, yet, I pressed on.

I succeeded in giving myself a trim that could only be achieved with a serious Black-and -Decker accident. It was as if I had ridden a weed-eater over speed bumps. By my final count, I had gained five bleeding wounds that should have required the paramedics.

Yes, this surely would make my mate desire me more. Nothing says sexy quite like scabby self-inflicted wounds that make me appear like a homeless gigolo.

The moral of this story is, if you can see through your laughter inspired tear-streaked eyes is, find someone else to cut your hairs, and if it must be you that does it, steer clear of booze and pills before hand.

Meanwhile, my back still hurts like a BITCH, and I will have to deal with the embarrassing itch for weeks.

Doc

P.S.- NO COMMENTS PLEASE! I HAVE LEARNED MY LESSON.

Don't Drink, Don't Smoke, What Do You Do?

I'm on medication that expressly exlaims on the label: DO NOT DRINK ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES WHEN TAKING THIS MEDICATION. I ask you: what's a Tiki Girl to do?

I'm not a big drinker, in general. I have a slight allergy to alcohol and drinking always makes me feel uncomfortably warm. And, being a modest creature as well, I'm not inclined to strip to alleviate my discomfort. However, I do enjoy a beer or two on occaision. It tends to loosen me up from my usual self. It's easier for me to make conversation and to feel comfortable in my own skin among people at gatherings. It also helps me completely forget about what's bugging me and frees my inner sprite.

These days, I find, I have soured a bit on the Tiki. It used to be an intimate gathering of friends, plus the occaisional character or two dropping by, that congregated for a few drinks, laughs and songs. Now it seems to be a place to go for an alcoholiday. Some people are drinking way more than they probably should, in my opinion. I can't verify this by personal observation, as I haven't been able to get there for a while for one reason or another, but I have seen the consequences. Maybe, because it's wintertime and there are fewer outlets for stress than in the summer and as a result people are drinking too much. Maybe its alcoholism run amok. Maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion.

I don't mean to slag the Tiki; I love hanging out there. But, in any crowd, I have always been the one who would warn others that if we continue on this path, we are going to be in big trouble. Let's just say I've never won a game of chicken in my life. In fact, I don't think I've even dared to participate in a game of chicken more than once. In any case, I don't know what to do about this. I want to see everyone and I care about them all very much, but I don't want to participate in nor do I condone the overindulgence, so to speak. Forgive me my cautious nature, but I am only saying these things because I care about the Tiki so much. I don't want to see anyone go down in flames because of drinking.

Maybe, though, I need to let my system settle down and find some other outlet for stress, for the time being. I can't keep up with the marathon drinking sessions and I feel uncomfortable being around the over-intoxicated. So, I guess I'll opt out for the time being. Call me when the days grow longer and warmer, when the flowers are in bloom, when the outdoor Tiki is lit with candles, when sitting outside in the warm twilight is its own euphoria and I'll be back with bells on.

Until then, I think I'll just watch some TV.

Some Words of Wisdom For The First Day Of The Year

Hangover Cure

Yahoo News actually posted something useful:

• Rehydrate. Drink plenty of water before, during, and after consuming alcohol.
  
• Eat. Eating helps decrease the absorption of alcohol systemically. Eating salty foods will also help the body retain fluids. (I once knew a guy from Denmark who swore that he never had a hangover because he took a teaspoon of table salt after a long night of drinking. Be warned - this remedy is not verified!)
  
• Replace Vitamin B. Brits and anglophiles swear by a product called Berocca which is a fizzy tablet like Alka-Seltzer that contains high amounts of Vitamin B6 and Vitamin C. Berocca is not available in the U.S. currently, but a similar product, called Emergen-C is available.
  Choose your poison. Some drinks give you worse hangovers than others. Clear liquor like vodka and gin are lower in congeners (alcohol impurities) because of the filtering process involved. Fewer congeners mean a lower risk of hangover.

I know many of you will not want to hear this, but, of course, the best thing to do is avoid a hangover all together. Some good behavioral tips to limiting your consumption but still participating in the festivities:

• Try alternating beverages. Drink an alcoholic beverage, then drink water or club soda. You'll likely cut your alcohol consumption in half.
• Choose something you don't really like. Many of us like to have a drink in our hand as a crutch at a party. We can always take a sip when there's a lull in the conversation. Choose a drink that is not to your liking. You'll be reminded of the fact every time you take a sip, and you'll be unlikely to finish the whole thing.