Over my DEAD mangy bearskin hide!

My fellow inebriates,

As you know, I have a deep and abiding love for Broker’s Gin and its most admirable Business Development Manager Julia Gale. Why, just yesterday morning I suggested we pour ourselves a gin & tonic for breakfast, only to have the idea shot down peremptorily by my killjoy parents. I imagine Julia, eight hours ahead of us in England, agreeing with me that it was not too early for gin, particularly given the daily, intense drama that surrounds the process of urging V out of bed and onward to school.

My conviction that Julia Gale and the chaps at Broker’s have my back and support all my hopes and dreams is what shocks me so intensely about THIS photo from my Twitter feed:

Broker's Gin on possibly bearskin rug OMG

OMG, right?

Is that really…?

Could it be…?

Is that a BEARSKIN RUG?

WreckSpex Zebra wood

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The freaky turtle that’s even more endangered than Latitude 50 White at our house

My fellow inebriates,

LBHQ has always been a perilous place. Look at the way Glen Bear just vanished one day. Look at what a bully Scarybear is (although he’s mellowing with age). Look at these freaking gerbils shredding a Glenlivet box like it’s nothing. OMG, people, it’s terrifying to live here.

2017-04-07 08.16.40

I think about this a lot when I’m sober. What if one of the kids got tired of me and threw me in the gerbil tank? I’d be dead within a few hours. Slowly dead, that is. They’d probably gnaw on my eyes.

I started feeling extra-endangered today when I read about the Mary River turtle, this punkass reptile that just landed on the endangered list. It has a mohawk made of algae, freaky-looking spikes growing out of its chin, and get this—it breathes through its genitals.

This awesome weirdo animal is apparently pretty easy to get along with. Just like yours truly, it’s probably not that good at looking out for itself, especially after a few drinks. (How would it ingest those, I wonder?)

 

Like many news items about plants and animals threatened with extinction, there’s not much in the way of a call to action. Across the planet, creatures are winking out of existence. What the hell can we do?

Latitude 50Even though I know the answer isn’t to drink a bottle of GRAY MONK LATITUDE 50 white wine, it’s the only thing I can think of right now. This wine is a light and refreshing blend of Gewurtztraminer, Bacchus, Riesling and Muller-Thurgau. It’s off-dry and pear-coloured, perfect for a sunny day, and has only 11.9% alcohol. It’s delicious chilled, and Gray Monk recommends salads and poultry as accompaniments (not turtle). Every time we get a bottle of this wine it vanishes.

Let’s hope that punky-looking turtle doesn’t vanish. That’s what we’re toasting (not roasting) tonight.

 

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BAVARIA 8.6 RED—Strong enough for apocalyptic thirst

My Fellow Inebriates,

Our new (old) house is full of silverfish! They scurry across the bathroom and kitchen floors and counters. OMG, they are so gross, people. Do you have silverfish? What the hell is the deal with these little suckers?

My mum didn’t want to talk about them. It takes her 15 minutes to stop shuddering after killing one. So I asked my friend Scarybear.

Scary says silverfish are harbingers of the End of Days. “They and all their fellow Darker Animals are in charge of Priming the World for the post-Apocalypse after all Good Animals such as Bears have lost their Lives in an All-Out Battle with the Dark Forces of Evil.”

“And how long do we have left?” I asked.

“Thirty-six days.”

If this sounds mighty theological, Scary insists it’s not. He’s far too big a Gene Roddenberry fan for that. But he feels just as entitled as Billy Graham to cherry-pick the best (most dramatic) scriptural snippets as apocalyptic fuel. He believes, for instance, that where the silverfish are most numerous there must be a Hell Mouth—probably in one of the bathrooms. Maybe both.

My dad says silverfish like eating cardboard, and that if we ever finish unpacking and get rid of our boxes they’ll go away.

Wikipedia says silverfish actually like the adhesives in cardboard packaging. They’ll also chow down on photos, paper, sugar, coffee, hair, carpet, clothing, and dandruff. If they’re hard up for food they’ll attack furniture, leather, and synthetics, or even eat their own moulted exoskeletons. (According to Scary, “only a Dark Creature would do that.”)

All that starchy food must drive them into wet areas. We all know how thirsty junk food makes people and bears, and presumably these disgusting bugs are no different.

Scary shrugs at this observation; he thinks a Hell Mouth makes the most sense.

One thing is certain. We can’t even discuss thirst without mentioning BAVARIA 8.6 RED. An import from Holland, this marvelous strong red lager is rich and deep—and 7.9% alcohol. The aroma is malty-caramelly with a subtle touch of fruit. Brisk carbonation meets malty sweetness on the palate—not super-complex, just big and satisfying: a boozy belt with a lingering toffee aftertaste.

Our camera charger is still MIA, so I went scoping for a photo of this lager and found one on Beer Advocate, which advised me not to use it (so I didn’t), but while I was there I noticed BAVARIA 8.6 RED had taken a shit-kicking from the good reviewers at BA. It’s probably the lowest-rated beer I’ve ever seen there. This was a big shock. It was like being told there might be a Hell Mouth in the bathroom. One minute you think you live in a normal house whose paranormal activity rates about a 3 or 4 on the freaky scale. Next thing there’s an effing Gateway to Hell spewing out silverfish and other servants of Satan so they can devour hair-dye and sanitary-napkin boxes.

Regardless of Beer Advocate’s damning of BAVARIA 8.6 RED, I stand by this Dutch brew. It’s super-friendly and easy-drinking without being thin or sour or macro-like. Whatever the BA beer geeks are getting from it, I’m not. I LOVE it, people. And not just because one can is enough to get wasted with. I love it for its own sake.