A taste testing of sorts, the manor market, part of a gas station and hardware store has a ripe selection of quality beers. A Belgian Style IPA I've just acquired late after this noon, I have about now enjoyed. From flyingdogales.com, Raging Bitch with its striking label was an imprisoned nectar of untamed golden flavor, which impressed upon my taste buds and at eight and a half percent went straight to my head.
It reminds oneself of late the evening before around a fires discussion about mountain lions, new boulders, six degrees of separation, fraud, linguistics and discovering that English men enjoy the word cunt, almost as much as the Quebecois lady the week before. It all started with his lady friend, who's birthday it may or may not have been, when it was all but her around a fire of men. Her dealing quite well with the crudeness of the evenings discussions. Soon - "whats the word for four, but not a few?', "a parliament of cunts have arrived," with his English accent rang. Surely I ate to much cake, "where is Shirley with more firewood?"
Monday, March 15, 2010
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