Lord, Give Us This Day Our Daily (Liquid) Bread…

…And forgive us our debts (in which I have many, but who’s counting?)

For we ourselves forgive everyone who is indebted to us (so long as they get the next round.)

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from eeeeeeeevil.

Dearest Blogosphere,

It has been a long sojourn of phalanges from keyboard and I owe myself an apology. Every time I vow to blog and write more, I find a distraction to pull me away (third job, new relationship, binging and purging, epiphanies, distraction after distraction after distraction.) Needless to say, I’m trying my best to return and write daily. It was something I did long ago back in high school and it is time to turn two catharsisiseses into one. I love beer. I kind-of-sort-of like writing. I’m not going to make any promises, but I’m going to try my darnedest to write as much as… (I can see my mother already shaking her head.) Okay, okay. I PROMISE, I’m going to write at least once a week. Baby steps.

As many of you already know, I have an NSFW relationship with beer. If I could, I’d marry many of them I’ve had the pleasure of putting in my mouth. I’d be the Joseph Smith of beer courtship. I try my best to get my friends to try the beers I’m drinking. I try my best to turn non-beer drinkers into beer-swilling miscreants (you’re not going to beat me, you might as well join me.) I am under the firm belief that if you currently do not like beer you haven’t been introduced to the “one for you.”

I’m not going to look down my nose at you for drinking a domestic beer but with a history in imperialistic Pokemon gathering having to “catch them all” I have a morbidly strong desire to “drink them (beers) all.” If you should drink said domestic beer, I will more than likely suggest a beer akin to your libation; not for the sake of being a snob but only to open your eyes to the endless possibilities. Treatchyo tongue! I too have specific beers that are go-to sips, but I will not let that limit my palate from what the world has to offer.

To get to the point, I attempt to drink a different beer a day. Obviously there are some factors that interfere, but I am convinced that a beer a day keeps the doctor away. Working on my Lv.2 Cicerone, it is almost a must. Being that my Lisa Frank journal is full, I’ve decided to possibly maybe sort of keep track of the beers I’m drinking by posting them here; giving reviews and personal notes of what I think of the beers I am currently drinking…

Without further ado, I present to you the beer that I practically just chugged whilst typing all of this…

IMG_20141113_125724This beer happens to come from one of favorite breweries, Jolly Pumpkin out of the great state of Michigan. Jolly Pumpkin is well-known for the sour beers… they were also known as being a brewery called “Jolly Pumpkin” and having absolutely no beers with pumpkin in them. W.T.Hell? Confuzzled, I know, but I continued to guzzle their beers without questioning their genius.

Finally, La Parcela is Jolly Pumpkin’s first ale brewed with pumpkin! Yeah! Take that you friggin’ #PSL Nazis! It’s the best of two worlds: Sour Beers and the ever famous seasonal Pumpkin/Yam Beers…. And mother of all that is holy does the beer taste delish. BeerAdvocate.com gives the beer an overall rating of 87% which is pretty good marks considering it’s their first. They know what they’re doing with sour beers. You do get a slight hint of cinnamon and nutmeg in the aroma, but the pumpkin flavor is extremely subtle. Your taste buds will more than likely be dancing around the sour campfire in your mouth like nudists dropping acid and twerking to the Grateful Dead so it may be hard to find the pumpkin but snap out of your trance and you’ll see a slight glimmer of light left on your tongue. That’s the pumpkin. Grab that gourd and roll with it. I imagine that this is what a unicorn’s piss would taste like if its diet consisted solely of butternut squash and children’s laughter.

Is this the best introductory sour beer? Probably not. Is this the best pumpkin beer? No. Is this a really good beer if you’re a seasoned sour drinker? F-to-the-U-to-the-C-to-da-K-Yeah it is! Get a bottle. Enjoy this for what it is. You will not be disappointed. I give this beer two thumbs up and tightening of my pants agrees.

Until next time. Salud, broskies!


Adventure Time

Maybe it’s the rain. Maybe it’s the pot of coffee I’ve already consumed by 8AM. Maybe it’s listening to the radio as the rest of world wakes up and bustles to their job after hitting the snooze button continuously and I still have a couple hours to kill before heading off to mine, but I’ve finally been inspired to get back on here and put phalanges to keyboard. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m about to embark on the longest road trip I’ve ever taken and I’m so friggin’ excited I could piddle my pants. Yes. That’s exactly what it is.

Image All of my bags are packed. I’m hours early by half a day. I still have to venture in to work when I’ll be picking up a parcel from Eric to deliver at my final destination. I’ll talk to my regular, Alan, for a couple hours about beer as he sips on his first Hop Stoopid. The conversation will segue into my travels as I bring Alan his second Hop Stoopid for the day. I’ll hear suggestions about where to visit from tables as I note them down on my ever-growing list until it’s time to head westward where I must wait some more.

This trip has been in the works for months now, and the day has finally arrived. When I get to Lawrence, I’ll be instructed to fat-napsky until Jason gets off work later tonight. The anticipation has me worried that my fat-nap may not happen, but the snooze is required for our all-night drive through Kansas. We had originally planned on heading out early Wednesday morning. The suspense of travel combined with the fact that neither of us were excited to see what Western Kansas looks like during the day swayed our decision to drive through the state nocturne a la moonlight. We hope to be arriving in Colorado as the sun rises to shine on the Rockies where we’ll be nearly halfway to our destination for the day.

Though Jason and I have no plans during our time on the road, we expect to enjoy the west as many wagon-wheeling adventurers did before us (with coffee, A/C, books on tape, and a Justin Timberlake/Beyonce playlist).


New friends to be made. New beers to be had. Adventure hooooooo!

Now cross your fingers and pray neither of us get dysentery….

Brosky Brewskies

Million Dollar Idea: Brosky Brewskies

Here at Brosky Brewskies we’re strong proponents of the old adage “liquor before beer; you’re in the clear”. So now that you’re crunk and drunk via copious shots of Tool Vo’ka, made a scene at the club with your girl, sent her packin’, vomited most of the alcohol you’ve consumed into a trash can next to the bar and on the floor surrounding it, it’s time to grab a brewsky with your broskies. And lament for your newly single girlfriend… “Lament”… that means to be expressive in grief, sorrow, regret, disappoint, etc. Got it? All right, brah! Let’s crack open one of these brewskies!

Brew Ya!: Unfiltered Wheat

A fairly easy-to-drink, light-bodied unfiltered wheat beer with hints of citrus, honey, and magic… well, that magic is actually a slight little bump of cocaine. This beer will make you feel on top of the world! And it tastes great too! Did we mention that all of our brewskies come in canskies for optimal shotgunning! We’ve even put a second tab on the bottom of the can for easy access. You’ll never lose a shotgun race again. This beer is for winners! Fist pump!

 The Bicep: American Strong Ale

Flex your taste buds on some liquid awesome! This beer packs a punch. Drink this and just like looking at your ripped ‘ceps, all the ladies will come crawling. This brewsky is packed with unnamed hops that’ll curl your tongue and toes. It’s just about as bitter as your ex-girlfriend with hints of grapefruit, jalapeno, and pepper-spray. Watch yourself, this beer can and will kick your ass.

 The Tricep: Belgian Tripel

Though the aroma and taste may come off as fruity, this beer will have you saying “no homo” by the end of the night. The Tricep is definitely a sipping beer due to it’s higher alcohol content… just kidding… sipping a beer would be pretty gay. Chug this mo’fo and get crunk! Remember, you just dumped your girl. It’s time to make bad decisions.

 Chuck Norris: Belgian Quadrupel

No matter how much you work your quads, you’ll never be able to match the roundhouse kick Chuck Norris gives to your mouth. Though deceptively sweet, rich, and malty just like Norris’ beard, this beer will make you look like his bitch by the end of the night. All your friends will now call you Trivette.

Lou Ferrigno: Barrel-Aged American Stout

Drink this beer and you’ll be able to Hulk-Smash your way out of anything. A heavier bodied beer we’ve barrel-aged packs in hints of coffee, espresso, bourbon, cherry, and tobacco. Irish Car Bombs will never taste the same! And, it wouldn’t be a Brosky Brewsky if we didn’t add our own gamma ray. This beer is also packed with whey protein so while you’re downing this brew, you can also out-max all the bros at the gym… WHILE  BUZZED… and inevitably steal their girlfriends while you’re at it.

Chuck Norris

Happy Brew Year!

The year 2012 has passed. You’ve recently discovered this via copious Facebook status updates, Twitter posts, and Instagrammed photos of couples swapping face at the stroke of midnight or lonely singles drinking their champagne toasts straight from the bottle while simultaneously vomiting all of their bad karma that has built up over the past twelve months. The word “resolution” is quickly becoming the most annoying word/phrase since “YOLO” and the gym that you frequent is now packed with said resolutions. Not being one to skip out on social endeavors and mainstream hoopla, I’ve compiled my own list of commitments and personal promises. Now that I’m putting them down in writing I might actually hold fast to these pledges for more than a month’s time. So, here goes…. my three New Year’s res(br)olutions  for the year of two-thousand-and-thirteen…

 #1. Drink More Beer

I, Sam Eubank hereby pledge to drink more beer in 2013. I know this may come across as being indulgent, a lush, a debaucher, an alcoholic… hear me out. Many of you know well by now that I love beer. Love probably doesn’t even represent the gamut of adoration I hold for the universe’s finest liquid. I respect beer. And though at times it comes across that I’m shoveling libations down my gullet, I’m actually having one or maybe two beers in a sitting. In 2013, I am opening the door to try even more, new beers. Study them. Learn what makes them tick. Make sweet, sweet, passionate love and respect the shit out of it. With that being stated, I’m brought to my second pledge.

 #2. I’d Like to Give the World a Beer

I, Sam Eubank hereby pledge to see the world again. I haven’t been out of the country since my excursion to Ghana in 2008. I miss the feeling of traveling, and going someplace I’ve never been to before. I want to breathe in the air of Spain, India, and the top of Mount Kilimanjaro. I want to share a beer with locals in a hole-in-the-wall pub off the beaten path where no one even speaks English but we share the same love for beer, music, and newfound camaraderie. I miss taking photos of local children dancing in the streets and their excitement for talking to a strange man from a far away land—the same excitement I would get and still get from conversing with people from stories of who they are and where they’re from. I want to visit my favorite breweries, see my favorite bands, and talk to my favorite people while in their company rather than through the phone or e-mail.

 #3 Dream Big or Go Home

I, Sam Eubank hereby pledge to dream bigger than I ever have before. Many of you already know a majority of my delusions of grandeur firsthand. This year, I plan on making them even grander and even more delusional.  It isn’t that I have a completely false since of reality, but tapping into idealism sparks my creativity and puts me in a better place. I need to be writing more. I need to be talking more. I need to be cranking my ideas into tangible entities. I need to be taking more risks. I need to be turning my concepts into profitable ventures.

I, Sam Eubank hereby hold these truths to be self-evident… Where is my beer?

Alcoholic Aspiratoins

To think I’d ever end up in a place like this… at a time like this… and at this point in my life… Sober, I’d laugh at the negligibility of even the slightest of thoughts regarding my current situation. However, the indulgence of beverages of the fermented kind has left me in a state not undesirable at the moment and has led me either astray or right on target. Only time will tell and the sand in the hourglass falls ever more hurried with each passing spirit.

The air here…

Dense. Thick. To say a knife’s blade would rest well on the edge and still not cut through it would be an understatement. No, a serrated apparatus is required for the incision. The musk hangs like butchered cattle in a meat packing plant, dangles at the level of your nose, and is ridden with the stench of mature masculine and feminine by-products related to intercourse and debauchery. A chainsaw is needed… much like the one I have hanging in my garage. In a drunken stupor, I utilized it in the manufacturing of the device that would assist in my prevalent endeavor.

The noise here…

my thoughts are faint and distant compared. If not for the fictitious audience procured, this inner monologue would be almost not. Nevertheless, it is this reverberation that aids in the attainment of my recent unshakable aspiration. The resonance and its cadence cause a stirring within. With each passing spirit, a beast swells in the confines of my being yearning for liberation.

The light here…

its brilliance oscillates enigmatically until momentarily. The music dies for but a second and transitions into another composition as the rays of light pivot to an entity bringing it center stage. The light illuminates and appears to fill the article until it radiates with warmth and shimmers drawing me nearer. Perplexed and wide-eyed, I inch closer with arms outstretched until the tips of my fingers touch its surface.

Though giving the impression of heat, its exterior is frigid. It’s an inviting cold… like a first snowfall. Sliding my fingers across its length, it is smooth and slick… a residue of grease. The air is right. The noise is right. The light is right. The time is right. The moment I’ve been anticipating since my fifth shot of whiskey this eve has finally presented itself.

I mount the pole, shimmy to the top and with legs wrapped around it, fall backwards and slide its length while projectile vomiting into the bachelorette party below. And at this moment, I realize I will most likely fail my chem test in the morning. And at this moment, I realize I will never be a male stripper. But at this moment, I realize… I am a god.

Bromantic Encounters

I have recently joined a few online dating websites, and I am beginning to question why I decided to waste my time and join these sites. I don’t know if I did it out of boredom, hope that I would actually find someone compatible enough to date, or unbeknown to me a secret psychological subtitle in masochism. One thing I have learned is that no matter how crazy I think I am or have been in the past, there are plenty more characters out there far more deranged than myself… and it’s pretty entertaining.

On one of these sites, it is common to get some strange messages. I should have known what I was signing up for. The only problem I have is that when provoked, I can sometimes be an asshole–especially in writing. Thank you to genetics and my intellectual, witty, smart-ass upbringing. The following selection of literature is an example what I encounter and a testament that patience is a virtue.

I had received a few messages throughout the course of a couple days that went unchecked… because I’m not on the site every day. Anger from the other party ensued and warranted a response from yours truly…

Other Party (OP): hi (September, 8)

OP: ???????????????? (September, 9)

OP: i siad hello and ya didnt reply,,,i guess your just on of those fake lil runts,,,,,lol noce to know faker,,,,,,play on playa (September, 10)

Me: Meh.

OP: go away you make no sense

Me: I wasn’t the one approaching you. I am sorry for not meeting your standards cordially enough and in a timely enough manner to prevent you from calling me a “fake lil runt.” Though, I admit, I am slightly vertically challenged (so calling me a runt is factual) I would rather not adhere to slanderous comments about me being “fake” or a “faker.”

OP: dude i said hello and the email went unaswered then i sent a second unanswered so y ou blew it,,,,,,,,,,nuff said good bye short pie,,,,,,,,,and i like lil man syndrome your loss,,,now please dont email me back please

Me: I’m sending you an e-mail back simply because you told me not to and because I’m calling out your reverse psychology. I will go ahead and state that your reverse-psy worked. In saying that you don’t want me to e-mail you back… I know that you actually want me to send you a message. You win this time because I’m messaging you back. Just know that I’m only messaging you to call out your bluff. I can’t talk to someone legitimately who uses comas to express a continued thought where ellipses should be used. (September, 11)

OP: i asked you not to mail me back you are annoying just like a little prick you silly half a man and because your pscyco babble is a turnoff and just the fact you keep emailing shows you dont take direction and are a pain in the ass and im not interested but nice try Mr therapist lol at you and as far as my commas,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,f u tiny man id tell ya to frow up but i feel you are as grown as you can be and a bigger ahole than i figured i should have known you are a TRUe FAKE PHAG and if punctuation bothers you,,,,,,,,,,,,,,.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!…………………………………………………………suck it because i always win you silly pussy bitch ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,………………………………,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,you are dismissed little boy ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I’ve been dismissed. Oh, well. Love was meant for another day.

My Favorite Brokemon…

…for reasons totes obvs, brah!