fun

ASTROLIQUOR for July 6-12—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

There’s a lot of hubbub around you, Aries. You’re going all neatfreaky, getting your environment just so. Whatever you’re planning, the stars are egging you on, especially if it involves Captain Morgan. Once you have your house shipshape, maybe you’ll feel like having a housewrecker. Invite everyone!

Taurus, staying awake and focused is going to be tough this week. You’re preoccupied with making the perfect martini. Gin or vodka? Lemon or olive? Perhaps some weird martini feature you’d find in a restaurant? If you take this option you may be able to shake off the blahs. Restaurants are full of interesting people. Order a plate of fries, then drink assorted martinis until they cut you off.

Get a handle on your capabilities this week, Gemini, so you don’t make liquor-related errors. You don’t, for instance, want to handle knives for a while. If someone invites you to play Russian Roulette with a real gun, say “no.” In fact, don’t gamble at all—don’t even buy underwear unless you’re absolutely sure it’s your size. But you can drink creme de cacao safely.

This week sucks from the get-go, Cancer, but don’t write it off. By week’s end things will turn around—as long as you listen to your gut. If it says, “Take a flask of applejack brandy to work,” don’t hesitate to do it. Although your workplace will offer up some bitchy conflicts on Monday, by Friday you’ll have mediated them—to the admiration of colleagues and superiors. Pass the flask!

Leo, in the next two weeks you’ll make solid financial decisions that will benefit you for a long time. Don’t vacillate too long; no matter how many pros and cons you can think of, let’s face it, the left brain is a bit of a killjoy. Subdue it with a mix of rum, vodka, and (optional) gingerale. Once your analytical side is safely out of the picture, you can buy things on ebay, send money to deposed Nigerian leaders, and acquire more thongs.

You’re suppressing a lot of rage, Virgo—so effectively that your friends and relatives can’t detect it. But the steam is building up inside you, and if you don’t release it you’ll go apeshit crazy. Consider taking a long nature walk or relaxing at the beach. If those ideas don’t work, make yourself a giant happy drink:

  • 4 oz root beer schnapps
  • 2 oz vanilla schnapps
  • 1 can Coke
  • Whipped cream

You might have to experiment a few times to get it right. After a few batches your friends and relatives will seem much more tolerable (but this won’t be reciprocal).

Libra,  just one glass of wine will change your perspective on everything this week—love, money, friends, work. People will find you more interesting (or so it will seem). You’ll make out with a Taurus. People will laugh and cheer, until you up the ante from wine to champagne. Slowly, they’ll start to think you’re a douche, and by the time you graduate to Everclear with gingerale they’ll have already gone home. OMG!

You’ve got domestic changes happening, Scorpio. Maybe you’re moving; maybe you’re renovating—there sure is a lot of shit in your yard. Try to steer clear of inquisitive neighbors. Even though you’re pretty good at ignoring them, for some reason they’re baiting you this week. It’s none of their business what you do in your yard. Knock that blue raspberry vodka Gatorade back and leave them to their boring breakfast.

Sagittarius, your emotions are highly honed these days. You spent most of your spring reeling around with a headful of tequila, which helped you discover your Third Eye and gave you craploads of insight into who you are and what you really want in life. The next step is to assess your personal and public personae. Which needs more attention? Pour some more tequila and ponder the question.

The stars are talking private finance this week, Capricorn. Could be you’re buying/selling a home, or maybe just consolidating personal debt. Obviously this is stressful as hell and calls for lashings of Grey Goose. As you slog through it, your mental state will improve. You’ll feel more comfortable talking with others about your money situation, especially if they’ll stand you a round of vodka.

Aquarius, if you’ve ever been tempted by the occult, this is your week. You’ve spent years ignoring those tweaky little signs that there’s Something Out There, disavowing the supernatural world in favor of your rational side. Well, there really is some freaky shit out there. Did you know there’s a possessed bear at LBHQ who houses the ghost of my dead Granny? Man, that bear scares the shit out of me. What we need is some Stolichnaya with melon liqueur and triple sec.

Pisces, your memory is usually pretty good, but this week it fails you. Don’t worry—you’re not over the hill and you’re not sick. You’re just pissed all the time on rum. Notice how you lose concentration after half a liter or so. Notice how uninteresting your friends and relatives seem; how everything is in slow-mo. It’s all you, friend! Cut your booze a bit with some mixer.

PETE BROWN TRIBUTE ALE—Better than thongalicious

When my girlfriend Dolly saw yesterday’s thong pictures she disavowed any connection with me. Not for the first time, of course, but this time she was explicit.

Cuddly and reasonably innocent

Obscene

And with that she was looking at Fluffy Bear again. Pointing out that the kids could just as easily have put Fluffy in a thong as yours truly didn’t acquit me. She said I’d attracted the thong. That I’d sent out a thong vibe to the universe. That nobody ends up in a thong who doesn’t really want to be in one.

Of course I wanted to crawl into the bottle immediately. Not because I was sad but because my ass was chafed from the makeshift g-string. Even the kids, after fashioning it, had had second thoughts about the project and abandoned it. I waited for my dad to get home and rescue me, but when he arrived he was too preoccupied to notice. Finally my mum released me from the thong, but not before snapping some pics.

This insult came after my parents declined a Canada Day barbecue featuring Grey Goose and lemonade. Their weekend was too hectic, they said, and they couldn’t make it. Nor did the sound of distant fireworks compel them to open our last bottle of wine.

So I hope my American friends are having a more festive celebration today than we did on July 1. Let’s hope you’re not in the grip of a thong or recovering from wearing one, and that you have some good hooch to celebrate the day with. For my wonderful American readers, a suggestion from California:

This is another tasting I owe to the incomparable Christine and her canvas bag. Brewed in Healdsburg, CA, PETE BROWN TRIBUTE ALE pours a deep rich brown with a gorgeous, languorous tan head and big, thick lacing. Immediately it bodes greatness.

I should mention we sampled this brew on June 30, long before any thong notions had developed. (Were the kids even thinking “thong”? Who knows?) We’d just tasted OLA DUBH and followed it up with a decent but slightly barnyardy Carmenere, so while PETE BROWN TRIBUTE ALE had a tough beer act to follow, our tastebuds had been brought back to earth somewhat by the wine (plus my mother’s weird cooking). Would this second beer hold its own?

First olfactory impressions are of malt and caramel with toasty nuts and brown sugar. These aromas are generous and presage a substantial and generous mouthfeel. Even if, for the sake of argument, you had premonitions that you’d be wearing a thong a couple of days later and that the rope would cut you between the cheeks, this ale’s heady redolence would be enough to short-circuit those negative fears and envelop you pleasantly.

At 6.3% alcohol, PETE BROWN TRIBUTE ALE is a big beer. The initial shot across the palate is bready with mocha and caramel. My dad used words like “good” and “nice”—but let’s remember my dad is a guy who couldn’t be bothered to notice my ass being flossed for several hours. PETE BROWN TRIBUTE ALE coats the tongue with deliciously smooth malt and punchy fizz that settles down creamily as the beer transits to the back of the mouth, where it delivers a long-finishing mild-hop finale to complete a marvelous flavor arc.

Wearing a thong? We’ll never know for sure.

This beer rocks, people, and if you can get your mitts on some in time for the fireworks, you definitely should. Just remember that some beer stores don’t permit patrons to buy beer while wearing a thong.

Once again my infinite thanks goes out to Christine, who chose this particular brew because of the bear on the label. Not only does Christine have exquisite taste in booze, but I’m certain:

  • She would never put a bear in a thong.
  • She would never leave a bear in a thong.
  • She would never dump a boyfriend if she found him in a thong.
  • She would never take exploitative pictures of a bear in a thong.

May your Fourth of July be flowing with beer and free of thongs*.

 

*The idea of being thong-free has been knocking around in my head since I read this post by Red.

I gotta feeling…

I gotta feeling…

Things are changing at LBHQ. Last night my dad poured us a Scotch, then we hung out and listened to tunes. After I passed out, he tucked me in with the other bears.

And tonight we have company. Yes! Christine (famous for the canvas bag of booze!) is visiting. Two bottles of red wine sit waiting. My mum’s going to cook something boring, and while she does that, my dad and I will get wasted with Christine.

So excited, people! Reviews to come… 😉