Showing posts tagged nostrils
    And it’s summer again. The humid bolts of lazy lightning drift across open grassland, sweeping a crisp hoppy scent into yer flaring nostrils. Flaring, that is, with animal lust. The Urge. Everything is incredibly fuckable. This oaked IPA and its orgy of palate-pleasing tastes are no exception. In a world made mad by the comings and going of pheremone surges, this IPA soothes fast—a tranquilizer dart to the groin of yer beery libido. Placid clam drips o’er yer demeanor as 3…4…13 sips assembly-line their way to yer maw. Strange mental clarities arise like slowly escaping flood waters. The tall, sweet hop grasses shudder, hiding the burbling undercurrent of rising intoxication beneath. There isn’t a spot of mud. Sparkling muddy ripples tickle yer toes and you suckle more and more dewey juice.  You can see for dozens of acres in any direction into the rolling green hills of oaky goodness. Absorbing sublime hop acids into yer pores. Confine the marshy beerwater to the friendly recesses of yer belly.

    And it’s summer again. The humid bolts of lazy lightning drift across open grassland, sweeping a crisp hoppy scent into yer flaring nostrils. Flaring, that is, with animal lust. The Urge. Everything is incredibly fuckable. This oaked IPA and its orgy of palate-pleasing tastes are no exception.

    In a world made mad by the comings and going of pheremone surges, this IPA soothes fast—a tranquilizer dart to the groin of yer beery libido. Placid clam drips o’er yer demeanor as 3…4…13 sips assembly-line their way to yer maw. Strange mental clarities arise like slowly escaping flood waters.

    The tall, sweet hop grasses shudder, hiding the burbling undercurrent of rising intoxication beneath. There isn’t a spot of mud. Sparkling muddy ripples tickle yer toes and you suckle more and more dewey juice. 

    You can see for dozens of acres in any direction into the rolling green hills of oaky goodness. Absorbing sublime hop acids into yer pores. Confine the marshy beerwater to the friendly recesses of yer belly.

    • 11 months ago
    • 11
    Bridgeport Highland Ambush Scotch Ale This isn’t your father’s scotch ale.  No, your father’s scotch ale didn’t come at you with a claymore, swinging wildly and making you wonder if it actually received adequate training for that thing. It isn’t a toy, for chrissakes.The beer smells like the bottom of your boot after you’ve stomped around in raisins and mud for a while. It’s less than 7%, but you can already tell it packs a wallop. You suck in the aroma, and your nostrils flutter and flare out happily. Your nostrils don’t normally flare. This is some magical shit right here.But you haven’t trusted your nose ever since it got smashed up in a fist fight last year after you had some bad mead. You don’t remember much from that night, including who served it to you, but if you did, there’s no question you’d be out for blood. You don’t suffer bad booze gladly.“AROROOOOOROOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUOOOO”What the hell? It sounds like some asshole is blasting a carnyx somewheres. You’re pretty sure there aren’t any wolves around, but you jerk your head around and look to your left, and then to your right, just to be sure. Or was it just the beer? You blink suddenly, and notice that your eyelids shut just a little more slowly than normal, and you start to worry a little bit.If there were a wolf out there, you’d already be dinner. This beer may be liquid courage, but it’s the kind of courage that leads to your head being separated from your body in swift fashion. Drink up, and do so indoors.Serving glass: Goblet fashioned from human skull -Yrethra Franklin

    Bridgeport Highland Ambush Scotch Ale

    This isn’t your father’s scotch ale.  No, your father’s scotch ale didn’t come at you with a claymore, swinging wildly and making you wonder if it actually received adequate training for that thing. It isn’t a toy, for chrissakes.

    The beer smells like the bottom of your boot after you’ve stomped around in raisins and mud for a while. It’s less than 7%, but you can already tell it packs a wallop. You suck in the aroma, and your nostrils flutter and flare out happily. Your nostrils don’t normally flare. This is some magical shit right here.

    But you haven’t trusted your nose ever since it got smashed up in a fist fight last year after you had some bad mead. You don’t remember much from that night, including who served it to you, but if you did, there’s no question you’d be out for blood. You don’t suffer bad booze gladly.

    “AROROOOOOROOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUOOOO”

    What the hell? It sounds like some asshole is blasting a carnyx somewheres. You’re pretty sure there aren’t any wolves around, but you jerk your head around and look to your left, and then to your right, just to be sure. Or was it just the beer? You blink suddenly, and notice that your eyelids shut just a little more slowly than normal, and you start to worry a little bit.

    If there were a wolf out there, you’d already be dinner. This beer may be liquid courage, but it’s the kind of courage that leads to your head being separated from your body in swift fashion. Drink up, and do so indoors.

    Serving glass: Goblet fashioned from human skull

    -Yrethra Franklin

    • 2 years ago