What Does Your Beer Say About You?
 

Not quite as inclusive as it could be, but...

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Randy

I am usually on the stoop with a 40oz of Colt 45.

I am o.k. with that.

That was pretty good. Anyone ever hear of 211 Steel Reserve High Gravity Beer? It has a rediculas alcahol content. Its only good ice cold though.

I guess Black and Tan falls under Guinness.

Where would Killians fit in?

Black and Tan and Killians are 2 of my favorite beers to drink on tap.

What about Newcastle or Tennant's?

I remember National Lampoon used to be really funny.

I don't drink, but this sounds like me (Corona):

Small things amuse you and you enjoy watching the lime fizzle in the bottle after you stick your finger in and turn it upside down to achieve maximum limey pleasure.

Nothing comes close to a Guinness in a Dublin pub.

or a Watney's Cream Stout

Mmmmmm, beer.

Really? Sure you weren't just smoking more pot back then?

What if you make your own?

No, but the sense of humor of a 14 year old is a little different. O.C. and Stiggs. Nancy Reagan's diary. The classics. :D

What Does Your Beer Say About You?
"Drink vodka." ;)

I'll second that. One of my fondest beer-drinking memories is from a London pub, however. Whenever I'm abroad I like to try the local brews. So when in London some years ago, I felt compelled to have a bitters. A very pretty little bar maid refused to serve me. I had a hard time understanding her through her very heavy cockney accent (felt like I was in a remake of My Fair Lady), but the gist of her argument was I would never finish it because it was very much an aquired taste. We argued, politely, for some time before she offered to fill a shot glass for me. If I could finish that, she would pull a pint for me. Well I damn near spit it out accross the bar at my first taste. Holy crap; the best description I can come up with would be stale vinegar with mold growing on top. How do they drink that crap? Anyway, she started laughing, and then her accent totaly dissapeared. She looked at me rather matter-of-factly and said in a very plain Mid-Western twang "I grew up in Chicago and have been here for ten years and I still can't drink that crap". She then pulled a pint of Guinness, on the house, and all was well in my beer drinking world once again.

A Maker's Mark Manhattan on the rocks, followed by a couple Harp.

Who can fking remember?? My beer doesn't usually talk to me....but when it does, it sounds an awefull lot like Mother...