Sent to me from: Deca Wholesale Warehouse
Date: Jan 13, 2004
Drank at: My Place
Rick Young bought be a fourty of good ol' Colt 45! This ain't yo' mama's beer, Fo shizzle. I sat at home swigging away at my monster bottle of swill beer while finishing up some work and hanging around the house, getting ready to go to the party our neighbors were having. I could hear the occassional "Yeeee Haaawwww" and "Whoooo Hooo" coming from downstairs, along with the occasional crashing piece of furniture and thumping music, which was a telltale sign that it was a grand party that only Minneapolis bike messengers could throw.
Problem was, though, that by the time a couple hours went by, and I had gotten myself caught up in an especially good episode of Saturday Night Live, I was feeling extremely pooped, and really didn't have the ambition to make it downstairs.
Damn You Colt 45! You've beaten me again! but we shall meet again! Oh yes, we shall!
I never did quite finish all 40 ounces that night, but I did think ahead to throw it in the fridge for later. Well, I woke up the next morning, and with my morning eggs, I thought I'd polish that sucker off.
Nasty! Nasty! Nasty!
Flat malt liquor is a force not to be messed with, and I've learned to stay away. Colt 45 tastes bad when it's fresh, so that should say something about what it tastes like a day old. never again.