SpaceBeer.

Over the course of history Charles Dudley Warner's quote has repeatedly rung true: "Politics makes strange bedfellows." I could not agree more, dear Charlie. War times sees awkward alliances, business allows for odd mergings.. but BEER?

Oh yes, Russia and Japan have woken up next to eachother in a scene common to most young college students and it has left them mumbling, only half sober, "who the hell are you?" The Russian Academy of Science and Okayama University have teamed up with Sapporo Brewies to create the first ever SPACE BEER. With ingredients at the Internation Space Station, people who thought that the first man on the moon was impressive will now be second guessing themselves.

However, don't think you'll be finding this at your local Brew Thru. Oh no, they are only producing 250 six packs and in order to qualify for the opportunity to indulge in this cosmic brew it'll cost you 10,000 yen to be in the lottery. Oh yeah, and I did say yen - because you must be from Japan to qualify. But that's okay, after reading that the station uses new technology to recycle urine into drinking water, I feel that this progressive alcoholic beverage might bring a whole new meaning to "This beer tastes like PISS!"

Shnack and Shchool.

Today was my last day of classes. As I have already mentioned, tennis acted as the closing ceremony for my final class as a Peace College student. We played no tennis, most due to that fact that it had rained all day yesterday, but class was not cancelled. Oh no, my dear Coach Daniels instructed us to meet in the classroom for our final day. Upon entering his office he smiled and pulled out two patches of cupcakes. He pushes them towards me and said "Congrats! You're done!" Everyone filed into his office where he said to take one in honor of my last day of Peace College classes. Cupcakes in our lack-of-tennis class. I dig it.

The rest of the day has been pretty uneventful. I met with B. Efird and wrapped up my internship class. We chatted about my accomplishments and talked of my next moves in life. She said numerous times how pleased she was with me. Hell, I'M pleased with me - but that's not new, now is it?

Tonight, Grace, McLamb and Fanny (along with perhaps a few stoppers-by) are going out to celebrate. Dinner and drinks.. a little more drinks than dinner, I fear.. will wrap up this, the last class day of my Peace College career. I'm not going to lie - I'm a bit sad. However, I don't think this school can handle me any longer!

Wait.. when?

I have made the sudden realization that my final day of classes will be this Wednesday. Yes, THIS Wednesday. On the day of December 9th, 2009, I will be going to my very last class of my undergraduate career. What will my last class be? A history class? - you ask. Clearly it will be a class concentrating on the Europe and the Reformation! - you might think. Perhaps a course in Ancient Greece? - you wonder.

My final class is tennis.

I'm going to repeat that incase your eyes shot out of focus for a few brief moments.

My very last class at Peace College is TENNIS. I'm not kidding. It is my one and only class on Wednesday. It is how I will wrap up my final day of official classes - on a tennis court, with a $15 racquet from Target.

Upon the realization that my final days of being a student at Peace College is coming to a somewhat bittersweet end, I burst into tears. We're talking about a full on wave of emotion with sobbing to boot! I stood in the middle of my kitchen, my hands covering my face, as a wailed like a little baby. It was when it dawned on me that the years of softball, boozing, Student Government, dorm room hopping, policy making, decision pondering, pot smoking, event planning, paper writing, hooking up, security dodging, party throwing, rule breaking, and sheer life contemplating mixed with crying, laughing, connecting, and Lord-knows-what-else would all be summed up in that final 50 minutes on a tennis court.

Be ready, fellow neon yellow ball whackers as years of changing and growing and realizations come to a head. I'm knocking those damn balls clear to Logan's... and I'm not chasing after them!

God Hates You Too

I was at a Subway today and was excited to see that a boys military academy had made a little stop through at the same establishment. After ordering, Grace and I were forced to sit right in the middle of the soldier wannabes. As soon as we sat down one young little proud American asked his commanding officer VERY loudly - "So, how do you feel about homosexuality?" The other boys, eyeing the tattoos on my knuckles and neck quickly shot daggers at the boy, who continued to mouth off. Unfortunately, Grace became visibly upset and I tried my best to tell her to ignore it. We sat there and ate, in an uncomfortable silence. When they all finally got up to leave, the boy waited in line for the bathroom which was near our table. So, I turned to Grace and just as loudly stated, "You know, most little boys who end up in military schools are there because their parents just don't want to deal with them. They're trouble makers who everyone else has given up on. Maybe they're orphans. Either way, society doesn't want them mingling with the rest of us." Grace laughed. The boy didn't. He did his business and then chased after the bus that nearly left him in the parking lot.

So, when you think that the "gay issue" isn't an issue: remember that we can't even eat a five dollar foot long without having to deal with close minded rhetoric. I got teased in high school. I get stared and pointed at in the mall. But I can handle it. After all, you ARE dealing with someone who left a redneck's face imprinted in the side of his truck because he felt the need to chase me down and attack me; all the while screaming that I was a "dyke." I hope they couldn't put all his teeth back in. It was hard work removing them.

Joking aside, it's not fun. It hurts. It hurts when I see my friends in tears over painful words. It hurts that I get treated so differently. No matter how long my hair grows. No matter how "feminine" I may try to look. It doesn't matter, because people HATE me based simply on who I love. And notice I don't say "choose to love"... because why would I choose to deal with these people?....

Excuse Me While I Wipe the Snot Off My Screen

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas - meaning, it's 30 degrees and I've been stuck on this couch for the past two days sick off my ass. My nose is raw and perpetually has tissue hanging from one, or both, nostrils like mucus stalactites. There is more pressure in my head than Hulk Hogan's nuts in a speedo. Every time I stand up I feel like a drunk bitch at a frat party. Pretty much, I feel like poopy shit on a stick. I am exhausted and, even more importantly, I'm bored beyond belief.

So, please excuse my brief absence while I lather my body in Vicks and chug Nyquil till I OD.

Happy Demcember, folks!

Well That's a Fancy Glass

I made a solemn vow to only go on nights that included some sort of special. This past Friday, I caved. So, because I am weak, I am accepting any and all donations and/or gift cards. Please, support my drinking habit and feel pride in knowing you are allowing me to drink something other than Coors Light swill.




The first of the night was a nice little IPA, Heavy Seas Loose Cannon. They call it a Hop3 Ale because of the use of three pounds of hops per barrel and also because they throw hops into the mix in three different installments. The work delivers a ncie product. Citrus in aroma and taste, and far less bitter than other IPAs I've had. Crisp and extrememly drinkable - even with it's over 7% ABV, so watch yourself light weights!




Grace had noticed this beer on tap in our previous visit to the Saucer and since I'm fairly familiar with the term "bastard" I figured I would give this one a whirl. I was pleasantly surprised that my brew was brought to me not in the standard pint glass, but a snifter! Yes, the very vessel that typically carries brandy and cognac. How fancy! But frilliness aside, this American Strong Ale glows an amber below an average creamy head. Don't take a whiff of it expecting that it's aroma will warn you pre-consumption. No no, the bitterness hits hard but finishes with an almost caramel sweet finish. Perhaps a slight citrus tang in there? Not sure, because the hops lingers a bit. With a whopping 10.5% ABV (we have double digits folks!) it was efficacious to mellowing my mood and lubricating conversation. This is a slow, enjoyable beer... but becareful, even I was left a little woozy!



Not my picture, but an idea of what it looks like. Oh, and whoever took this: Nice (spice)rack.

Beer Ticker: 192 beer to go!

Posterboards and Posterchild

I had my poster presentation for my internship yesterday. Yes, a poster presentation. Think of it as a 6th grade science poster on steroids. My tri-fold board was meant to reflect what my goals had been for my internship, as well as what I had accomplished and learned. There were pictures of Dr. Hall and I, my class, and me working on the history bulletin board (which is still standing unfinished.. whoops!). I even went down to A.C. Moore and "picked up" some nifty scrapbooking stickers of desks, globes, notebooks and various other items that might pop into your head when you think of a history class. This sounds fine and dandy I'm sure. However, waiting until the night before it is due added a bit of stress to my situation. I sat up late writing dribble about my responsibilities and new skills I had picked up along the way until I realized I was not only lying, but I wasn't making much damn sense. One sentence actually read, "Worked Students Better." Now, I don't know about you, but that just might have given off the wrong impression.
Some how I managed to pull it all together before the presentation at 4 p.m. yesterday. I, as well as the rest of my Peace College interns, took our places in the Main Parlor as students, staff and faculty perused through our circle of "professional" accomplishments. Our guests were urged to ask about what we did, learned and what our next step would be after this was all said and done. Some of the interns had cheat sheets on the back of their boards to better explain these points, some had notecards, the brave few of us winged it. I'm glad that I did, because what came from that was not a stiff presentation, but conversations that reached far beyond the boundaries of a rehearsed script.
I had people who met me for the first at this presentation saying what a fantastic job I seemed to have done. I had people who had met me just this semester saying they expected nothing less than amazing from me. But, most importantly, I had those who have been here for my entire journey, while placing a hand on my shoulder, saying how incredibly proud they were of me for how far I have come and how they knew that my time would come. From Latonya in the Reigstrar's office to Angela Kirkley in Financial Aid, they all beamed with sheer and utter delight. Even good ol' President BingBing clutched my hand while saying she has seen me mature far beyond what could have been expected. So, although I was left drained from explaining the specifics of my work, I was excited to be pleasantly, emotionally exhuasted from the people who have seen me work and grow over the past years.




Working on that damn bulletin board. A slur of profanities could be heard by those walking the halls... and possibly those occupying the surrounding classrooms. Sorry folks.

Boozer

Well, Monday nights = Pint Night at the Saucer. That means it's pretty hard to stay away from. All draft beers (or the loosely used "draught") are $2.75. Not too shabby. If only that applied to some of those $10+ bottle beers! So Grace and I ventured on over to enjoy our next three brewskis! Heeeeere we gooooo -




I do love me some Red Oak. A pretty decent amber lager. Very, very smooth in my opinion. Of course, it makes it even better since it's brewed in Greensboro. Nothin' like supporting local breweries!





The Sweetwater 420 is a pretty popular Extra Pale Ale. Pale ales are not typically a favorite of mine, but with such a huge following I couldn't turn it down. Clean, crisp and has a nice finish.



And lastly.. one of my favorite beers of ALL TIME. Ahem, drum roll please:



I'm going to be honest, you could probably substitute all the water I drink for Guinness and I would be as happy as a clam. The water fall when it settles, the thick and creamy head... oh yeah, I'm in love. There is no denying that the rich coffee flavors make this pint one of the most popular in the world. Besides, who doesn't like getting sloshed and trying to get the widget out?!

Another "Hello" from Ra-Ra

Lizzy Weaver says what's up.

We're currently sitting in creative writing, not feeling very creative. Obviously.

Mom should remember her with fond memories.

She demanded I do this... so here it is.


the end.

Where's the beer!?

So I joined Flying Saucer's little beer club. It's been loooong over due. I mean, not only do I get to try incredible beers that the average Joe Blow has never heard of, but I get presents for doing it! It's a win/win situation for me! Interested in exactly what this club is? Google "Flying Saucer, Raleigh NC"

But yes, after $18 to join I get a tshirt, a calendar and a nifty little swipey card that keeps track of every beer I have enjoyed. I, of course, am working towards the ultimate goal of 200+ beers. Doing so labels me a drunk and gets my name on a nifty plate (ahem, excuse me, SAUCER) along with when I was inducted and a quote of my choice. I will be working on the perfect quote up until my final beer. Now, in order to make sure that people aren't trying something stupid like drinking 50 beers in a day, you can only count three a day. Nifty marketing, eh? Oh, and you can save the massive consumption when you finally achieve greatness... because they throw you a party and give you a $100 bar tab. Shweet!

So, Grace and I started our voyage to barley and hops enlightenment. She, of course, started with the lighter, more fruity beers for her first three. I don't remember exactly what they were, but I do know one was the Woodchuck Pear Cider. Not my favorite type of beverage, but pretty tasty. Now, what I will be doing is keeping track of the beers I drink on this nifty little blog. I mean, that's not ALL I'm going to do on here. I'll put my random postings, because I don't want this to turn into a scream for an AA meeting.

What I started of with on November 12, 2009:


Oh, Boddingtons. It was natural to start with the English classic bitter, don'tcha think? Creamy, tasty, with no "kick your ass" bite at the end. I thought this was a great way to start of my brew-haha journey.


Up next... Brooklyn Brown. Looks a lot heavier than it tastes. A nice, smooth brown ale. The aroma was lacking, but the drinkability made up for it. Plus, it was on special. I can't deny a $2.75 pint!





And finally, the last of my three beers of the night - Foothills Seeing Double IPA.
I'm going to be honest, when the girl who donned a skimpy school girl skirt took my order and gave me the nod of approval at my final choice, I didn't expect what occupied my glass. While casually chatting I took a sip and my face quickly responded with a massive twitch. Not the bad "I just lost feeling on the left side of my body" twitch. No, no, this was a "holy fuck balls! someone just hooked jumper cables onto my ass cheeks!" What I just tasted was an ABV (alcohol by volume, in case you didn't know your beer acronyms) of 9.5%.
Let's make a comparison so that the importance of that number can be understood: Your typical light piss beer ranks at about 4.2% - this includes your Miller Lite, Bud Light, Coors Light, and Mich Ultra. Even my Bass only comes in at 5%. So, what I'm saying here is that the name absolutely mirrors the product. I was also impressed by my beer wench and, while squinting to focus, gave her the best drunken thumbs up I could muster.

Well, there you have it. My first three beers of my U.F.O. Club membership. Now.. only 197 more to go!

I'm bizzay.

Despite my lack of activity here from time to time, it is never a forgotten space. What have I been up to lately?

Life pondering
Flight checking
Co-worker ass slapping
Paper grading
Beer experimenting
Creative writing
Running/Walking/Crunching
Granola eating
Apartment cleaning
Music making
Canvas covering
Guitar string breaking
Bulletin board creating
Tennis playing
Toe dislocating
Cricket learning
Nature hiking
Constant learning...

I like to be well balanced after all.

Oh, and the longer my hair is the more recent the picture. Because hair doesn't grow shorter. That would just be shilly.

MO' Pictuuuuuuuuures!

Pictuuuuuuuuures.

T-Shirts with a Statement

Last year Mom sent me a shirt. It had been hiding amoungst boxes of other shirts and voodoo crosses prior to the move to the new casa. Today I felt the need to bring it out. The front of the shirt reads "PLEASE" across the chest, while the back very boldly shouts "KILL ME." Mom said it was for finals, but I felt the first day of classes was just as fitting. Just a little humor to start off this last semester. And how is this for a little more humor - my first and only class today is tennis. That's it. Tennis. Now I'm sitting in the new library, getting stared at by new freshman who seem both intrigued and scared by me, in my KILL ME shirt. I love Peace College.

Speaking of freshmen. There seems to be an even higher influx of the homo-student. I am not pleased. I remember back in the 70's when I was one of the very few who dared roam the halls. Now, I feel as though Peace has exceeded its quota. Just stop it. Say no to the gay. They all stare at me and I don't understand why. I feel as though I'm some Lesbian Godfather here and, although that does seem a little cool at first, it loses it's appeal after I find out that everyone is watching my every step. Kiss my rings and leave me alone or you might find a horse head in your dorm bed.

On a more scholastic note, I think I may have an internship thanks to my dear Dr. Hall. After threatening my life.. then stating that she would fail me AFTER she killed me.. she said she wanted to work out me possibly being her teaching assistant in her American History class. This is quite the big deal. The reason for the threats is that I apparently have not been the most, er, trustworthy. She gave me a lecture about how she sometimes wants to strangle me because I have "enormous potential" but do not always follow through with my work at the level I should. Hm, story of my life. She did acknowlendge the very obvious change in me and how she is just as excited as I seem to be about everything. By the end of our conversation she was stating how great this all could be for me and how she really wanted me to learn how to "do this" (big gestures to the class rooms and offices surrounding us and that she knew I would absolutely fall in love with it. I think I already have.

Where'd ya go?!

I've lost 6 pounds. I'm knocking on wood right now. Knocking on wood across the apartment complex for the exercise. I have a lot to go, but with how I've been eating and the intense games of badminton it's sure to get gone. Yes, badminton. Hello, don't make fun - have you seen those asians play it? That shit's intense. However, I like to kick up the fitness factor by throwing my racquet long distances so that I have to run to get it. There might be a correlation between the racquet chucking and my missing the birdie. Oddly enough, I used to always call the birdie by it's correct name - the shuttlecock - until I received quite a dirty look from a mother and her two bratty girls at Target. Hey, give your little screeching princesses a few years and a SHUTTLEcock will be the least of your worries lady.

I was researching some programs. I found one located in Malaysia. I don't really have anything funny or witty to say about this, just that I feel that is an EXTREMELY random country. As much as I fancy myself a geography buff and having the uncanny ability to point out nearly any country on a map/globe I found myself completely blank when trying to conjure up the mental image of it's location. Try it. Where is it? What does it border? Pfft, you don't know either, do you..

Speaking of far and distant lands. I dreamt that it was this time next year and I was somewhere else. I dreamt I was walking from my home in a small village to the little school I taught at. Totally likely - except for the fact that the trees had lunch pails like in Return to Oz. Hey, it was a dream. But seriously, I've got a list of places I'm looking at. I can only work on this project for short spurts because I start to twitch at the thought that this is a GROWN UP job. What's been nice is the incredibly support and feed back I've been receiving from professors/friends here. I still chuckle when I picture my beloved Profesora Grey with her lips clasped together and pursed, nodding her approval and offering her help whenever or however needed. Before announcing to Val that "I have a plaaaaan" (mock Thunder Cats/ He-Man) I didn't think anything could stop her speed walk across campus, but I was mistaken. And although I have asked for those few friends I have told to swear that if they utter my plan to a soul I will gladly remove their tongue and give it a Viking burial in whatever body of water my exotic school teaching job will be near, everyone seems more than excited about this venture. When I sit down and think about it, it kind of blows my mind. Not so much because of the profession. Not even because of where it might take place. Not really because I'd be doing this alone. No, it blows my mind because I'm so sure... and I haven't been sure of anything in a long time. Hey, culinary school is still in my sights... I'm just taking this slight detour. Granted, that's a big ocean to cross for the sake of a detour.


Anyway, I think I've done enough reflecting. For now.