Today I split my pants. Not in the back, but in the front. Near the zipper. Sure it’s embarrassing, but on a day you have five meetings scheduled, like I did today, it’s mortifying. So, after a long day of crossing my legs a certain way, holding my notebook over my area, and contemplating a fupandectomy, I decided to treat myself to a beer from my customized six-pack.
(A couple of days ago I went to the grocery store and selected six beers solely based on the design of the label.)
Tonight’s selection was Golden Monkey. The label reads, “A magical mystical Monkey whose golden soul glows with the wisdom of ages.” It continues after a few more ridiculous sentences, “Our Golden Monkey is both playfully delightful and profoundly satisfying.” It doesn’t end there, but I’m done retyping this crap.
(I say “crap” now, but at the grocery store I was oohing and ahhing over the narrative.)
From the whiff, it smelled like Heineken. Exactly like Heineken. Like they took one and relabeled it Crazy Monkey or whatever it’s called. I should tell you I don’t enjoy Heineken – not because of the taste, but because of the unpleasant belch that always follows each sip.
At first sip, it reminded me of Beck’s, and after the third sip, I noticed a distinct aftertaste, similar to the sting you get from licking a nine-volt battery. After the fifth sip I belched, which propelled me to pour the rest of it down the sink.
Label: It’s a Buddha-like monkey with an eye on his belly, but he has lots of hands like Durga. Four hands to be exact, one covers his eyes, the other his mouth, another has a finger in one ear, and the last is showing a peace sign. How could I resist?
Company: The Brewmasters of Victory, bottled in Pennsylvania.