Frankly, I like beer better than you. No, not better than you do. I mean, I like beer better than I like you.
Here are a number of reasons why I like beer better than you. I don’t know how many reasons there will be ahead of time, because I haven’t typed them yet. See, beer doesn’t give a shit about stuff like this. Beer doesn’t care if there’s going to be a set number of reasons. Beer’s all like, “Go ahead, B., just get it out there. Here. Let me give you a little inspiration.”
Yeah, so that’s reason one.
Beer does not give a shit about minor details.
Beer thinks I’m cute.
Beer is not married or engaged or dating someone else.
On days when I don’t feel like drinking, beer makes an excellent tonic for my hair.
When it’s hot, there is nothing better than the cool, tingly sensation of that first cold swallow down my throat.
Beer is dependable.
Beer is not afraid to have lunch with me.
Beer is not ashamed to be seen with me in public.
Beer does not secretly wish I were pretty so that beer would not be embarrassed to date me.
Beer does not run off to join the fucking Circe du Soleil.
Beer does not care if I don’t have a car. In fact, beer prefers I don’t drive.
Beer is ancient.
Beer goes with the blues; it does not give me the blues.
Beer does not make me doubt myself.
Beer makes me feel good and when I feel good I feel brave and when I feel brave, I feel like, well, fuck y’all if you’re too stupid to realize how great I am.
Beer likes my brothers. Beer’s like, “How ’bout the three of you sit on the couch and burp and fart and crack each other up?”
Beer says, “B., you and the Shill certainly are the most spectacular thing to happen to this campus since Jim Bulleit graduated. Put me in your pockets and go entertain the campus.”
Beer says, “Smooches for everyone.”
Beer says, “I bet Lithuanians would love to see your tits.”
Beer says, “Sleep well, sweetie.”
In fact, the only drawback to beer is that beer also makes me have to piss about every ten seconds. Really, compared to the shit y’all put me through, it’s not that big a drawback. Because, you know what I think when I’m sitting in the bathroom, peeing again?
“Gosh, I sure like beer.”
I don’t know about that, dear Aunt B. I’m so close to beer, we have a very good relationship and it has crossed over into love many times. Beer has gotten me through so many sad, intimate times as well as convinced me to be a free spirit.The only difference is beer convinced me to show my rack to the Irish World Cup fans in Amsterdam.I wish I was kidding. I heart beer.
Beer has made me the man I am today.
Wow, you’ve written a dorm-room poster. Congratulations. (I’m glad, by the way, that beer prefers you don’t drive. Sometimes 14 or 15 beers say to me, "Damn you’re a good driver….")
Beer and I were very close for 20 years. Sadly, we were divorced in 1995. I am now married to A.A.
Elias, I could totally sell it as a poster to undergrads! Who doesn’t dream of going into Spencer’s and seeing her work?Do they still have Spencer’s?Kitty! Eleven years of sobriety? That’s nothing to be sad about.
Last night I thought I would see if wine could be my friend. This morning I decided that I prefer beer. Ugh.