THE DAILY DIVERSION

Okay, so I know I don't post every day, not that anyone but me is reading anyway, but I thought I might actually update more often if I had things to talk about. For the most part, right now, I don't have much to talk about.

Actually, I have a ton to talk about, but can't, because it might jinx it all and that would not make me a happy camper.

So, what I'm thinking is that I'll try to update as I try new beverages. I've been buying new beers as Adrianne and I have been going out to liquor stores and I thought I'd share my thoughts on those, again, like anyone cares.

So, tonight, while watching the Toppers pull out a 3 point win at South Alabama, I enjoyed a Unibroue "16", which is a beer they made in celebration of their 16th anniversary. It is 10% Alcohol by Volume, and comes in a 750 mL bottle. Basically, it is the equivalent of drinking about 5 Budweisers, but actually has some flavor.

Now, I'm not a pro at "rating" a beer like the folks at Rate Beer are, but I know what I like.

"16" is a strong ale, with quite a bit of spice and a long-standing aftertaste. Also, being high alcohol content, it only takes one. In other words, it pretty much knocked me on my ass tonight. I was actually standing up cheering for WKU, instead of sitting on the couch. (I'm glad I didn't go into the chatroom on the Haven however, as I heard things got interesting.)

The beer is not too hoppy, which is just up my alley.

However, I did not enjoy it quite as much as I enjoyed Unibroue's Trois Pistoles, which I had the other night. WOW! The only way I can describe it is... "An explosion of flavor in my mouth!"

Yeah, that sounds pretty dirty, but that's the way I like it!

Coming up soon (I've already purchased these, but haven't tried them yet):

Rogue's Imperial Stout
Here's the commercial description:

"Deserving the title "Emperor of Ales" (unlike the bourgeois "King of Beers"), Imperial is the strongest and fullest of all stouts. Imperials originally were brewed with large quantities of hops and a high alcohol content to withstand long, unrefrigerated journeys. Rogue Imperial Stout, considered the high end of stouts, is made of 2-row Great Western Harrington & Klages, Hugh Baird XLT-80, Black, Munich and Chocolate Malts; Willamette, Cascade and Chinook hops; rolled oats; and two secret ingredients. Unfiltered and unfined, Imperial Stout is best when aged for one year. Imperial Stout is available in a new 12-ounce bottle (replacing the older 7-ounce XS-line package) and on draft.
Measurements: 26 degrees Plato, IBU 87.5, Apparent Attenuation 77, Lovibond 258 "

Rogue's Mori Moto Imperial Pilsner
Here's the commercial description:

"Golden in color with a dry hop floral aroma and intense hop bitterness supported by a big malty backbone which culminates into a hedonistic mouthfeel. Yee haw!"

And a picture:


The descriptions and picture came from Ratebeer.com, so check them out!

I also bought a half-case of New Belgium's best, which includes Fat Tire (awesome!), Mothership Whit (like Blue Moon), and two others that I can't remember off the top of my head. I'll dabble in those over the weekend, as I'm bootlegging and taking them up to Kentucky with me. I call it bootlegging, because New Belgium doesn't sell their beers east of the Mississippi River (at least not commercially), so me taking them to Kentucky is, as Judas Priest would say "Breakin' the Law"!

I'm such a BAD ASS!

(Note: I started this post last night, when I got in from work. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to finish talking about my dream, so it got bumped to getting finished today.)

I'd really like to know that myself, then maybe I could've eradicated that song from my head this morning. Unfortunately, the way I usually do it is by just listening to the song and "POOF" it's gone. Well, I don't own the song or album and I'm not paying $1 to download it from Itunes for 3 minutes. I just sucked it up and rocked out at work for a bit.

Anyway, I had the wackiest dream last night. I recorded it a little different than my old-school style of trying to write down everything I could remember. A couple of weeks ago I found a voice recorder App on Itunes for my Iphone. I haven't really used it up to this point, but I will going forward. I got it because I had been in the car a few times with some great ideas banging around in my head but no way to capture them. I can't remember things as well as I used to.

So, when I wake up from my dream I immediately grab my phone, kick on the recorder and start telling the story. Here's what I got...

I'm at our first house in Bowling Green, over on Catalina Dr. Mom is divorced, but has the house and all of the stuff in it. For some reason she's out of town for a week, so I'm staying there. I've got the room at the stop of the stairs on the left (my actual room when we lived there).

I wake up really early one morning, before the sun is up, and notice the front door standing open. This isn't a big deal, but then I notice the glass storm door is also open about a foot or so. This is when I know something is wrong. I head back into my bedroom and find my big maglite and head downstairs.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, there's a closet that been ransacked and a couple of rifle's are laying out. There's also another flashlight like the one I have in my hand, so I grab it.

I start looking around the house and saying "Okay, I know you're in here. I don't want any trouble and I know you don't want any, so just go out the back door or something." I walk into the living room and the big TV is gone, as well as pretty much everything else. This is where I run into the skinny little guy.

He tries to run from me, but I catch him and throw him to the ground. For some reason he isn't wearing a shirt and I whack him in the ribs a few times with the flashlight, all while saying "I have to do this, it's self defense!".

While I'm holding him down I keep trying to call the police with my cell phone, but every time it goes straight to someone's voicemail. The very first time is actually goes to Daultry Grave's voicemail (we went to high school together, damn you Facebook!).

By this point I'm getting pissed that I can't get in touch with the police, so I head over to someone's house who has a land line. It just so happens it ends up being my in-laws, but not at the house they really own. They're in some little one bedroom shack. I come in and I'm roughing up the guy that was in my house. I throw him over in the corner and just berate the shit out of him. "Don't even think about fucking getting up or saying anything!" I yell at him.

My in-laws are just in shock that I'm talking to anyone that way. Then my Mom shows up. She's asking me what's going on and I try to explain that he was robbing the house, until a really pale woman comes in with long, wavy red hair. Somehow she's connected with the other guy. I start to interrogate her as well. She says that she sold all of the stuff to some place with a really long name. I say "So, basically, that's a code word for pawn shop?" and she nods her head yes.

I tell her that she's an accomplice to this whole thing and that she's going to jail too. She just say's "So what?"

The guy in the corner is trying to stand up and I kick him once saying "Sit your ass down or I'll kick the shit outta you!"

Mom doesn't like this at all and tells me I need to let them go and that she doesn't care about what they did. At this point I'm beyond pissed, so I say "What is wrong with you all? I'm pissed here because Mom has never had anything and I bought most of this stuff for her, because I wanted her to have nice things. Now, you don't care! They have no remorse for doing it, and I'm the only one that gives a shit!"

Everyone gets up and starts filing out the front door. The two criminals are walking out last, right in front of me, as I'm trying to gather up something. I yell out "Somebody needs to hold on to them so they don't run away!" but no one does.

They all leave and I'm standing there, still pissed off!

Well, once again, I have learned that I really need to just stay in bed until about 10 am every day. Otherwise I just screw something up. Luckily today it didn't have anything to do with large amounts of money, otherwise I'd be blogging from jail, but it was pretty silly nonetheless.

It seems as though my brain really doesn't function much prior to about 10 am every morning, with the exceptions of weekends. During the week I struggle to get out of bed when I need to, then the first few hours of the day are just a blurry haze. On the weekends though, I have no problem waking up, ready to take on the world (or a Memphis bum or two, not that they'd be up and fighting at that time), at 7 am. It's just borderline insane that my body works like that. I'm guessing it's just my overall disdain for work, period.

That, or it could be that I'm awakened 5,000 times every night/morning during the week by firetrucks, police cars, garbage trucks, bums screaming, neighbor's shouting, or you name it. During the weekend, none of that shit seems to happen and I don't know why.

I've tried to sleep with earplugs in, but that gets kind of dangerous. If Adrianne doesn't wake me up when she leaves in the morning and pulls them out, I can easily not hear my alarm clock. Then I'd really be late to work. Speaking of which, what is "late to work"? One minute? 5 minutes? An hour? Not showing up at all? Well the last one isn't technically "late" I guess.

So, anyway, I'm half dazed and most confused this morning, as usual, and I hit the shower, brush my teeth, shave, and get dressed, just like I usually do. Actually, I sleepwalk through it most days, as it's just a routine I'm used to. I'm seriously OCD in that regard. Everything in the exact same order: use bathroom, brush teeth, take vitamins, take shower, deodorant, shave, fix hair, drawers - left leg first, undershirt - left arm first, socks - left foot first, dress shirt - left arm first, pants - left leg first, tuck in shirt - from the back to the left then front then right, collar stay - left first, button sleeves - left first, belt, left shoe, right shoe, tie tie, clean glasses and put them on, name badge on belt, wallet in left breast pocket of coat, coat on, make smoothie.

This morning was no different. All of those things in that exact order. However, I found out, at 2:30 this afternoon, I put my underoo's on backwards. To be honest, they're tagless and seamless boxer briefs, so it's not hard to mix up the front and back. However, I did feel like an idiot at the time.

The good news is that I can wear them again tomorrow! GROSS!

Okay, so I've caught all kinds of flak that I never blog any more. Well, here you go. Just so you know, the reason I quit blogging was because I couldn't do it at work any more. Blogging, alone, usually got me through the monotonous routine of my average work day. So, you can imagine how much fun I'm having at work these days, right?

My last post was kind of depressing, to say the least, so I'll try to liven it up a bit. I'll start with the easy stuff...

Adrianne and I are doing great. We're both healthy and happy. We're still in Memphis, for better or worse. Bums still bother the shit out of me on nearly a daily basis. I finished another soccer season and still didn't score a goal, but got a lot closer than ever. I did the little things that a decent needs to win. We finished 4th in our league, which is pretty good.

I've been dreaming like crazy again and am expecting a fun-filled night tonight, as I had spicy Italian for dinner, along with a couple of glasses of wine. That usually does the trick.

I had a couple of crazy dreams over the weekend, both about my co-worker/buddy Bryan and his wife. One was fun, the other was sad and frustrating. Anyway, here's how it went down...

The first dream: I'm just chillin' and Bryan calls me up acting all giddy, like a little girl. I ask him what's going on and he tells me that he and his wife are pregnant. I become a little girl just like him and wish him the best. That's all I can remember about that one.

The other dream: Bryan calls me and he barely talks to me. I know something is wrong, but he won't say it. Finally I extract the following from him: "We lost the baby!" Not really knowing what to say, I just tell him "I'm sorry!" and that I'll be wherever he is in minute to hang out with him. So, he stays on the line and I keep trying to talk with him, but he won't talk back. I end up going through mazes and a bunch other mess, but I can never get to him. He finally lets his pain get the best of him and lashes out at me, which I take, because I know he's hurting.

So, that was great news, no? I told him about the dreams this morning. Is it weird that I dream about my co-workers? There's no homo-eroticism there at all, don't worry!

To close, I'll share a funny story from work.

So, as a team, my office was given a goal to accomplish by this Friday. As the weeks have gone by we've tracked our progress toward this goal with a thermometer style gauge, where the red goes up as we get more done. So, as of last Friday we blew our original goal away. To mark this momentous occasion, I updated our gauge with the red exploding out of the top and sent it to the bosses.

As my boss is leaving Friday afternoon, he says to Bryan and I "Yeah, we're gonna have to change the success meter, as it's a little too sexual. It looks like some guy just blew his load!"

We changed the geyser output into stars instead of droplets. I still wanted to put a picture of Peter North next to the gauge though.