Arrogant Turbo Bastard Dog

I wanted to try new stuff tonight. But minutes are simply not enough when browsing the Strangebrew beer menu. When she came to take our order, I blurted out "Sam Winter" in haste, not wanting to miss out on the first round. But Sam wasn't my endgame here. So I pounded it.

On to something new. I ordered Anita Brewing's Turbodog. I wish I could remember what it tasted like, because I pounded that one too. The problem here is that we had momentum going.

Sometimes momentum can be hard to stop. Next on my list was the Arrogant Bastard. It spoke to me from the menu. I have some recall of this beverage. It was exceptionally hoppy. But I could discern no further detail at this point as a consequence of my earlier decision to simply tear through my other two pints. So I more or less tore through this one too, since I didn't really feel like having a super hoppy beer tonight, and I didn't feel like savoring it.

The moral here is that this was a terrible combination of pace and mixological execution. By virtue of my ever-expanding body mass, I was by no means impaired. But this morning I sure feel like I must have been. I usually try to follow a 1:1 glass of water to beer ratio before hitting the pillow, and in spite of that, I felt none too good at sunrise. I have a wound up dog trying to scratch it's way out of my skull, and an arrogant prick kicking me in the back of the eyeballs. Alright I'm exaggerating. Anyway drink those beers and not in that order and not in the same night the end.