prior to toby’s birthday keg, the last time jon and I bought a keg was for our wedding. That night, jon and I did keg stands in our wedding attire, and then passed out, leaving our unguarded keg on the porch where it was stolen by some rascally teenagers. I felt this made for a fitting story, but some of our guests, perhaps outraged that those snot-nosed kids got the best of us, or perhaps just grumpy that their “hair of the dog” hangover cure plans were thwarted, wouldn’t let it go. And so instead of just sitting in bed the next day lamenting our decision to hold the wedding so many thousands of feet above sea level, I got to file a report with the local sheriff’s deputy where he asked me a series of questions to which I could only feebly mumble responses, all while hoping he would quickly realize that my recollection of the previous evening was sketchy at best and that would be the end of questioning. Of course, they never found our keg so my interview with the deputy just resulted in us keeping a copy of his business card next to copies of our invitation and other wedding keepsakes. Today we had to do what we didn’t have to do that last time, return the keg to the place of purchase. I don’t know whether it was the academics or children under 4, but someone at toby's party wasn’t drinking their fair share and so try as we might we were unable to float the keg. But rather than let those last few gallons go to waste, we emptied them into our beer brewing bucket, equipped with a spigot, which is now sitting at the top of our stairs. The beer has taken on the quality of a cask conditioned English ale: room temperature, minimal carbonation. I’d actually say it tastes better than it did on Saturday. Which is good, since it is atop our stairs, you can’t really make it into the house without pouring yourself a glass or two. And so I do, and no crazy kids can stand in my way. Well except for toby. Fortunately he’s not allowed near the stairs yet, so it looks like the coast is clear. Of course, it all reminds me a little of the simpson’s episode where homer keeps nibbling on the last few inches of some 20 foot sub he started months or years before. But jon and I have agreed, the second time either of us has to go to the emergency room for skunked beer related illness, we’ll totally get rid of the rest of the keg.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
toby of the day, 7.17.2008
prior to toby’s birthday keg, the last time jon and I bought a keg was for our wedding. That night, jon and I did keg stands in our wedding attire, and then passed out, leaving our unguarded keg on the porch where it was stolen by some rascally teenagers. I felt this made for a fitting story, but some of our guests, perhaps outraged that those snot-nosed kids got the best of us, or perhaps just grumpy that their “hair of the dog” hangover cure plans were thwarted, wouldn’t let it go. And so instead of just sitting in bed the next day lamenting our decision to hold the wedding so many thousands of feet above sea level, I got to file a report with the local sheriff’s deputy where he asked me a series of questions to which I could only feebly mumble responses, all while hoping he would quickly realize that my recollection of the previous evening was sketchy at best and that would be the end of questioning. Of course, they never found our keg so my interview with the deputy just resulted in us keeping a copy of his business card next to copies of our invitation and other wedding keepsakes. Today we had to do what we didn’t have to do that last time, return the keg to the place of purchase. I don’t know whether it was the academics or children under 4, but someone at toby's party wasn’t drinking their fair share and so try as we might we were unable to float the keg. But rather than let those last few gallons go to waste, we emptied them into our beer brewing bucket, equipped with a spigot, which is now sitting at the top of our stairs. The beer has taken on the quality of a cask conditioned English ale: room temperature, minimal carbonation. I’d actually say it tastes better than it did on Saturday. Which is good, since it is atop our stairs, you can’t really make it into the house without pouring yourself a glass or two. And so I do, and no crazy kids can stand in my way. Well except for toby. Fortunately he’s not allowed near the stairs yet, so it looks like the coast is clear. Of course, it all reminds me a little of the simpson’s episode where homer keeps nibbling on the last few inches of some 20 foot sub he started months or years before. But jon and I have agreed, the second time either of us has to go to the emergency room for skunked beer related illness, we’ll totally get rid of the rest of the keg.
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1 comment:
"MMM, forbidden sandwich"
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