I admit, I've regressed to being a college frosh, only I'm allowed in a liquor store without my parents. No, I haven't taken to drinking berry flavored OE Special Reserve again. I never did understand which berries comprised "berry flavor". Strawberries? I don't know. Rasberries, it had to be rasberries, right? Once again, I don't know. I do know, however, that it looked slightly like a big pile of liquified blueberry after it escaped from my stomach, landing in my dorm room sink.

Last night, on the way home from my soccer game in Coon Rapid, I decided to take a little detour to the great city of Spring Lake Park. There are only two reasons that I'd ever consider going to SLP; as a throughway to most of my soccer games, and for booze.

You see, Minneapolis has a disgusting ordinance that, in addition to no alcohol sales Sundays, all city liquor stores must close at 8pm during the week. Why? Minneapolis is retarded like that. I don't get it. It makes no sense. I can understand the Sunday thing, what with it being Jesus day and all. Lord knows that nobody drank in the Bible. But there are times when I'm watching too much internet porn to make it to the store by 8pm during the week.

With my game ending promptly at 8:01pm, and my belly in need of a frosty, pee producing beverage, I make a quick bee line to the booze store off of Central Ave for a case of their finest lager.

I walked right by the distilled spirits without even so much as an aknowledgement. No hard alcohol tonight. Nope, nothing but beer for this guy. But, what kind of beer?

I've had enough Miller Lite, High Life Light, and Premium Light in the past few months, enough to make the whole Kennedy Klan--even Rose--cry out in sympathy pain for my liver. I wouldn't heed the macrobrew's Siren Song, oh no. I do fancy myself a Silver Bullet man from time to time, but I was in search of something different. I needed something new. I wanted a beer that I could turn into the new PBR, one that all the hipsters would latch on to and say "Hey, I'm cool because I drink this beer even though it tastes like dirty butt."

And I found it in the form of Gluek Golden Light. Most people outside of central Minnesota have never heard of it, but those that are from the area should have tried it at least once, what with the brewery near St. Cloud and Gluek's bar located in downtown Minneapolis.

And just my luck, it was on sale!

For $7.99 a case.

That's .33 cents a beer.

If you don't see me for awhile you know why.

I felt a little awkward walking towards the register, as if I actually was that freshman in college using my older brother's ID illegally. I was very much legal, though, but still really embarrassed that I'm 30 years old and made a beer purchasing decision based on largest amount of beer I could buy for the least amount of money, regardless of flavor or possible effects it might have on my lower intestine. Nice.

The pudgy black lady behind the register said "You really drink this?" and gave me a look like I'd just raped her dog. And her cat.

"Me? Drink this? No, oh no, no, no. My mom, she's an alcoholic and beats me if I'm a spendthrift with her money. At least she punches me when we're naked. No obvious bruises that way." I said with a wink.

I walked outside, raped a random dog(and cat), punched an old lady in the face--she deserved it for looking at me all wrinkly-faced--got in my car and drove home to my mansion.

What, you expect me to live in a craphole when I save so much money on buying shitty beer? I think not.

The End.