Showing posts tagged Chocolate
    Naked City’s STFU Donny! The remnants of Naked City’s The Big Lebrewski found their way into a beer as confusing as yer haunting memories from those days in Vietnam.  Just like  that time when The Dude got himself into a pickle with the cripple, you can turn yer attention to simpler matters. Like bowling.  Naked City opens the game with the sweetness of 2 chocolate strikes.  ”I’m throwing rocks tonight.  Mark it, Dude.”  But in the next frame hits a 7-10 split.  While yer waiting for yer ball to come back, the hops take over and help guide your thoughts, envisioning the crazy-ass spare yer about to pick up.  But the Jesus just accosted another 8 year old.  On the lane next to you.  Then threatened to shove yer gun up yer ass and pull the trigger until it goes click.  ”Jesus.”  ”You said it man.  Nobody fucks with the Jesus.”  And all yer left with is the bitter taste of the roast that just sacked yer ass into missing that 7-10 pickup.  What the hell just happened?  ”8 year olds, dude.” So the next time yer running around by the In-n-Out Burger - “Those are good burgers, Walter.”  ”Shut the fuck up, Donny.” - grab yerself a pint of Naked City’s STFU Donny and try to figure out what the hell yer going to do about that Chinaman who peed on yer rug.  ”He peed on the Dude’s rug.”  ”Donny, you’re out of your element!  Dude, the Chinaman is not the issue here!” The Issue here is whether or not you can wrap yer tastebuds around a 7-10 split while some pederast is rubbing his balls in yer face. -The Admiral

    Naked City’s STFU Donny!

    The remnants of Naked City’s The Big Lebrewski found their way into a beer as confusing as yer haunting memories from those days in Vietnam.  Just like  that time when The Dude got himself into a pickle with the cripple, you can turn yer attention to simpler matters. Like bowling. 

    Naked City opens the game with the sweetness of 2 chocolate strikes.  ”I’m throwing rocks tonight.  Mark it, Dude.”  But in the next frame hits a 7-10 split.  While yer waiting for yer ball to come back, the hops take over and help guide your thoughts, envisioning the crazy-ass spare yer about to pick up.  But the Jesus just accosted another 8 year old.  On the lane next to you.  Then threatened to shove yer gun up yer ass and pull the trigger until it goes click.  ”Jesus.”  ”You said it man.  Nobody fucks with the Jesus.”  And all yer left with is the bitter taste of the roast that just sacked yer ass into missing that 7-10 pickup.  What the hell just happened?  ”8 year olds, dude.”


    So the next time yer running around by the In-n-Out Burger - “Those are good burgers, Walter.”  ”Shut the fuck up, Donny.” - grab yerself a pint of Naked City’s STFU Donny and try to figure out what the hell yer going to do about that Chinaman who peed on yer rug.  ”He peed on the Dude’s rug.”  ”Donny, you’re out of your element!  Dude, the Chinaman is not the issue here!”

    The Issue here is whether or not you can wrap yer tastebuds around a 7-10 split while some pederast is rubbing his balls in yer face.

    -The Admiral

    • 2 years ago
    Pike’s Entire Wood-Aged Stout Off in the distance, the slow coo of trains lulls young minds to sleep while bubbling broths of chili gurgle sloppily in the near kitchen. The carbonation in the Entire Stout stews and beckons like the hefty dose of cayenne pepper in a steaming bowl of chili. Totally unexpected, however, is how much carbonation leaps up at ya like tiny carbon fireworks. Yer lips buzz as the fizz journeys up your moustache(ette) on an ascent of treacherous, dangling hairy handholds. The warm tumble of vanilla washes over yer tongue blissfully like a melty cheese curd. It coats everything about the inside of yer mouth and hesitates ever so slightly before it smuggles witness-protection-act alcohol past the looming spectre of the Eye of Uvulua. But the chocolate gets caught and assassinated in front of a firing squad of taste bud soldiers. Think of the mouth as a penetrable fortress. Or a fish net that somehow avoids catching the carcasses of runt dolphin. I prefer to think of my own mouth as baleen. I carefully sieve out the millions of krill bubbles in this stout, tasting each one as though someone’s rating my abilities. That or a giant squid is about to rake my whale-ass with a deadly suckerprong. Then again, the depth of the ocean are a perfect place to get intimate with these suds.

    Pike’s Entire Wood-Aged Stout

    Off in the distance, the slow coo of trains lulls young minds to sleep while bubbling broths of chili gurgle sloppily in the near kitchen. The carbonation in the Entire Stout stews and beckons like the hefty dose of cayenne pepper in a steaming bowl of chili. Totally unexpected, however, is how much carbonation leaps up at ya like tiny carbon fireworks. Yer lips buzz as the fizz journeys up your moustache(ette) on an ascent of treacherous, dangling hairy handholds.

    The warm tumble of vanilla washes over yer tongue blissfully like a melty cheese curd. It coats everything about the inside of yer mouth and hesitates ever so slightly before it smuggles witness-protection-act alcohol past the looming spectre of the Eye of Uvulua. But the chocolate gets caught and assassinated in front of a firing squad of taste bud soldiers. Think of the mouth as a penetrable fortress. Or a fish net that somehow avoids catching the carcasses of runt dolphin.

    I prefer to think of my own mouth as baleen. I carefully sieve out the millions of krill bubbles in this stout, tasting each one as though someone’s rating my abilities. That or a giant squid is about to rake my whale-ass with a deadly suckerprong. Then again, the depth of the ocean are a perfect place to get intimate with these suds.

    • 2 years ago