Both Teh Peachy Escargot and Xenia said that I should publish this. I'm doing so because a vote of two represents a quorum around here.
RBR's calling me full of BULLSHIT had nothing to do with it.
And now Sarah (D-MI) has weighed in with a Yea so it's unanimous.
What better way to spend a Memorial Day than using the time to finally1 bottle that 5 gallon bucket of IPA2 that's been ready for bottling for about a month now, but you haven't gotten around to it because you just never seem to have the time to do it and in this here sentence, of course, "you" = "me"?
Memorial Day weekend being a three-day weekend, I vowed, come Hell or High Water, I would bottle that IPA at some point during it. Well, Memorial Day itself rolled around, and I still had not bottled it; so when I got up that morning, I said, "Fuck it, everything else can wait — I'm bottling this bitch."
And it was like 9:30 in the morning — and there's nothing like bottling beer at 9:30 a.m., because there're bound to be little powerfully-beer-smelling spills in the process, and any visitor, or, Hell, anyone with a nose within a two hundred foot radius of the house, is pert-near obliged to conclude you've started tippling at 9:30 in the morning while your wife is at the gym and your 10-year-old son is lying on the sofa watching River Monsters in nothing but those lucky plaid boxers that he basically hasn't taken off since he wore them when he won that fishing tournament two weeks ago; and you're yelling at the dog: "MORGAN!1! Get the HELL away from my BEER!1!" because he always seems to want to stick his nose into the beer bucket but let him get his OWN beer because, to be blunt, sometimes you just wake up wanting to prove that some of the whitest and trashiest people don't live anywhere near a trailer park and LET'S HEAR IT FOR TEH GARDEN STATE!1! — but Memorial day was humid here in mid-northish Joisey and I was already sweating and it's possible, just possible, that I may have allowed an errant drop of sweat to fall into the beer bucket as I was bottling. And if I did, and if it's true, as I've heard — mostly on Teh Interwebs —that sweat and urine are made of essentially the same components, then I really put the Pee in my IPA this time.
Anyone out there wanna try a bottle?
Look, this should not gross you out because it is really not that odd for weird ingredients to find their way into various beer recipes and, hence, into the actual beers. That's why they all taste different. Why does Heineken taste like skunk?
Skunk juice, of course!
And so maybe a little of my sweat got into my latest IPA — so fucking what? That's not the worst thing that's gone into one of my brews! Who will ever forget my less-than-successful 2006 experimental lager, "Dr. Glaven's All-Natural SploogËnBraü Extra"?
(The extra ingredient was love3.)
1 People of Teh Blogosphere! Do NOT be intimidated by petty Grammarian Tyrants! There is NOTHING wrong with splitting your infinitives, as I just did above! And think about it: Would the "correct" form "than using the time finally to bottle ..." sound better to you, or more stilted and — dare I say it? — just wrong? Even though it is technically right, it sounds so wrong.
The only reason other languages don't split their infinitives is ... they can't. For example: The infinitive "to be" in French is "etre" — ain't nothin' to split there, playa; it's just one word.
Celebrate the fact that the English Language infinitives can be split, say I! Make an effort to really go out there and to positively split as many infinitives as you can — to really give it your all.
Because let's face it: does anybody really consider the "to" in "to be" to be part of the verb? It's really just the verb's ugly friend that the verb takes with her everywhere she goes because they've been friends since grade school; don't feel as though you have to be nice to "to" or — Heaven Forfend! — actually fuck "to" just so the real verb — "be" — doesn't get upset. "Be" knows "to" is ugly and unfuckable; "be" has been trying to convince "to" to join a convent for, like, ever. But "to" can't take a hint and, frankly, "be" is getting a little pissed that, every time she finds another verb to conjugate with, as it were, "to" rushes into the room saying "I'm ready to go because Jeopardy is gonna be on soon so we have to leave! Now!"
"Be" is tire of being thus cockblocked.
So do "be" a favor and run interference between "be" and "to". All verbs are whoo-wers at heart and "be" wants to be all the whoo-wer she can be.
2 IPA = "India Pale Ale", for those of you not that into brews. India Pale ales are supposed to have a higher hop content than most other beers; the Brits discovered that using lots of hops in the brewing process preserved the ale better for that long voyage to India, and the colonial Brits, on whose Empire the Sun Never Set, liked to be a bit buzzed on unspoiled beer when they lorded it over the wogs, flogging them, torturing them, basically enslaving them in their own country, while they patiently explained to them what backward, primitive people they were.
I say, above, "supposed to have a higher hop content" because nowadays, the IPA style is so varied that you can easily find an IPA whose bitterness on the IBU scale is more the level of a porter or even an ordinary bitter than a classic IPA.
3 Well ... technically, the extra ingredient was the post-coital residual bio-emissive effluvial after-effects of love — but that's virtually the same thing.
Inexplicably, my SploogËnBraü Extra somehow never caught on ... not even with seamen.