28 August 2006

Testing, Testing ... 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,9,10,11,12 (Fuck! I spilled # 8.)

The Pacific Western organic lager test went so well on Friday night I decided a binge test was in order Saturday night at the Steepleton Beer Festival. It is an especially clean tasting beer. It was a little too easy to drink too many as the hot day gave way to bats and shooting stars in the darkness. This morning's hangover was mild: a good vomit, strong coffee and a blackberry muffin had me righted before Sonja rose complaining of her own overindulgence.

There was lots of pre-season hockey talk. Canuck fans are the most hopelessly optimistic bunch of dumb motherfuckers on Earth. Steve, one of my old baseball and beer buddies said, "I hear Naslund is in better shape than ever." I told him, "Must have been all the rehab after the 14 hour operation to remove the malignant Bertuzzi tumour from his ass."

(Steve is so Canadian he used to play hockey with one of the guys from BTO.)

Grog did not make it to the Festival but Sudsy, who works on his ranch, brought word Grog's latest two-year-old is not progressing fast enough to be spun around the Dope City Downs oval until next year's meeting. Sudsy said, "Grog was going to let me run her on the training track until the trainer told him a few ugly stories about guys not real familiar with thoroughbreds like me doing headers into the track. It is probably better I stick with his more predictable horses anyway. You can sip whisky on top of those babies."

Jim Beam, Steepleton's highest ranking dirty old man, asked me, "Have you seen your niece around ... the one with the tremendously huge tits?" I told him, "Fuck Jim, she's only 11 years old!" Looking only a little offended he explained, "Not that niece! The other one ... with the tits you can swim in."

The band playing featured a young woman on the violin. Her instrument tugged at my alcohol strained emotions. I am saddened by the approach of fall - quite an understandable state given the high quality of the past few months of heat induced binge drinking. I hopefully asked if the band could play any bluegrass and was told, "No we can't but we'll play you some Steve Earle songs if you get us a beer." After they sang a couple Earle tunes they played a mean rendition of the Hockey Night in Canada theme song. The singer improvised lyrics to the song. They went something like,

It's Hockey Night in Dope City
Let's Get Stoned and Watch the Canucks
There'll be no more booing Bertuzzi
Naslund's Old Buddy Was a Schmuck


paulwwww said...

Well it's been a while since I watched hockey (no cable or dish at the moment), I particularily enjoyed your version of a good time. I had a buddy that played hockey in high school, he was rather good and used me as his puck stopping goalie for his practice on our frozen creekbed in Bluffton Ohio. I was always on garage sale skates that never quite fit right (no matter how many pair of socks I managed to put on) while he danced around on the ice careful not to knock my teeth out. :-) Anyways, guess I may try to catch a game soon, sounds like some good damn fun. Take it easy.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Your definition of buddy is most Canadian - somebody who won't knock your teeth out.

Nicole said...

Beer...I used to be a hockey fan..back in the day even dated a hockey player.
All this NHL striking and squabbling over money...frankly bored me.
I'll watch playoffs...was hoping for the Oilers, even though Carolina had more Canadians on their team hehe....but I am a CFL kinda girl.
so....do you cheer for the Lions...or is CFL football beneath you?
Ps...Saturday's Rider score...51-8 for the Riders...shooter night was a hoot!!!

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

As far as I am concerned there is only one football league and only one football game: the Canadian Football League. It's a fucking beer league after all.