Kilt Lifter, and the Upcoming Colonoscopy

I finally bought a six of Pike Brewing Co. Kilt Lifter last night. I've been looking at it for like, ever. But it's ten bucks, and ten bucks buys a piss-ton of Oly tallboys. It was friday, the weather has been continuously killer for some weeks, and I've been feeling a bit springy. Plus, Wifey has been pulling some high-dollar wait shifts at the 2-Pok, and though we're still, financially speaking, totally fucked, I figured it was time to take the plunge.

I had The Lads with me, which makes a simple run to the Beer Store a little bit complicated. It goes like this: Feed, change, dress, and load pissed-off little guys into trailer. Ride to store. Realize I forgot lock. And wallet. Ride back home and then back to store. Lock Colnago kid hauler to railing, undo trailer and try to push it into store. Get too-wide wheels stuck in doorway. Nice Chinese Beer Store man in filthy coat helps get trailer/lads inside.
Look at Oly. Figure, fuck it, I'ma buy that beer I been looking at. Reverse process.

Kilt lifter tastes pretty good. Real malty. I drank four of them and fell asleep at 8:15. Woke up lousy. All dry-mouthed and shaky. Avoid.

Fuck all the "hints of tobacco, citrus, and earth". From now on I'm rating beers by hangover factor-- And they get a pass or fail.


I'm gonna get roto-rootered next week. I fully expect them to find Smurfs living up in my gut.

Two grand to let some jerk in a smock rape me with 6 feet of fiber optic cable. Getting old fucking sucks.