What I did: Sportianity! And Frank Merriwell..
Grade for the day: B+
Let me tell you about my drinking problem.
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine returned from a trip to Vermont. He brought beer. Beer that makes the angels cry. He shared this beer. Why? I don't know. I sure wouldn't.
One beer in particular was called the Crusher, made by the Alchemist Brewery.
For the unformed, the Alchemist brews the famed Heady Topper. That's the one that beer aficionados who wear fedoras and skinny jeans would gladly punch their mother and kick a puppy to procure a four pack of.
We sampled Heady that night, shortly after Crusher. I can say with complete confidence that Crusher makes Heady taste like bear pee. A real high-class bear, to be sure. But bear pee nonetheless. Don't ask me how I know these things. I just do.
We had a handful of other positively delightful beers that evening. I eventually stumbled home after having the most life-affirming beer experience of my life.
Then, a few days later, I returned to my normal stable of beers--Sierra Nevada, Founders, Tröegs. OK, remember what I said about Heady? Well, these fine brews now fit somewhere between possum and rat pee. Again, every Pennsylvanian knows these things. They're just too afraid to admit it.
My first encounter with craft beer was waaayyyyy back in 1995. I had arrived to Kansas City, ready to complete my final year in the Marines. A few of my Marine-friends worked at a beer store. They recommended that I try a Sierra Nevada porter. I did. And after choking down a half of a bottle, I poured out the rest into the sink. Skunked, I thought.
My friends assured me that I just needed to develop a taste for it. Well, I did. Then I left KCMO and spent some years in Pennsylvania, Florida, and Pennsylvania again. In each location, I was in the beer wilderness.
But then a few years ago, the craft beer explosion hit my area.
I have since had a joyous reunion with beer, as evidenced by my over 200 unique check-ins on Untappd.
Now, however, my scales are out of balance. So the only corrective measure that I can think of is to buy a case of meh beer. With enough hard work and determination, I am hopeful that I can deaden my taste buds back to normal.
OK, so in re-reading this post, I'm confident that I don't have a drinking problem. But I do have a #firstworldproblem. A #firstworldproblem of the highest order.