I Have a Great Wife

Ha!  That title was created by me.  And by me, I mean.... Liz.  But, whatever.  If in 50 years someone says "Hmm...remember that great blog about that random dude who drank more beers than most people in their mid-twenties do?  I should re-read it", then they will click on "December 2010" and see this title.  And it will be preserved forever!!!*

(I wonder if blogs will be super outdated in 2060, aka 50 years from now.  Probably.  I mean, it was only 10 years ago that everyone had a Xanga and a Livejournal and an AOL account and AIM.  And now no one has any of those things.)**

That all said, I try to be a great wife like the title says.  Let me tell you a tale of a time (a beer-related time) that I tried to be a great wife.

*Ahem*

Once upon a time, last Thursday, Ryan and I ventured all the way up to Midtown to see Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson on Broadway.  It was awesome.  Simply and totally awesome.  If you live anywhere near the NYC area, come see it before it closes in January.

One thing I must say before I go on with my story is that I like the trend in recent years that I've been seeing at Broadway shows.  Now, a lot of theaters allow - nay, encourage - you to buy food and drinks for consuming in your seats during the show.  It used to be (and still is at stuffier theaters) that you would pre-order your cocktails so that you could slam them back during the 10 minute intermission aka bathroom-line-wait-time.  First time I ever saw this was at How The Grinch Stole Christmas and now have seen it at all shows at the New World Theater (Evil Dead the Musical, etc,).  At plays like In The Heights you had to go to the bar to order the drink and then bring it to your seat.  At other plays, like The Toxic Avenger, they come to your seats and sell drinks and food like you're at a non-boring baseball game.  It's a nice trend (in London it was also allowed in most theaters and having a drink while watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang by myself may have helped the show be even greater in my mind).

Anyway.
After seeing this show (which is only 95 minutes long and has no intermission), it was only 8:45pm.  So we thought we'd go get a drink in fancy shmancy Midtown before heading back to crummy old Brooklyn (Just kidding!  Brooklyn's the best!).  I came up with the perfect plan.

You see, if we were just any-old couple, we would have probably stopped in some lame faux-Irish pub for an over-priced beer and called it a night.  Or gone to The Olive Garden's bar.  But we are not just any-old couple, we are the couple featured on a blog about drinking beer.  Which means that sometimes the beers being drunk are not too interesting so the location has to become much cooler.  So I suggested we head somewhere that many of the readers (hopefully) have not been to.

So we walked south a few blocks to this:

Yes, my friends, it is a bar owned by Burger King.  I had read about it on the interwebs, so I figured that would make for a fun story.  Ok, maybe not fun, but cooler than "and I drank the beers on my couch", which much of this blog features.  Drinking!  In Burger King!  Maybe it would make the suburban readers' heads explode!  Because New York City is so awesome and way more advanced and progressive than the rest of the country -- we serve beer at our fast-food places.  

So we walk in.  And there are signs everywhere saying things like "Alcohol must stay on the premises.  Sorry, it has to be our way on this one" (Get it!?!  'Cause their slogan is "Have it your way" but now they're saying that you can't!  Clever, marketing gods...clever.)  So yes.  We see all these signs with pictures of Burger King paper cups filled with yellow beer and we smell the flame-broiled meat and read the description on the menu about Funnel Cake Sticks (yup, that's a thing now...).  But we can't find the beer.

We walk upstairs (yup, fancy fast-food in the big city has two floors, y'all) and see no beer.  We look at the menu by the registers and see no beer.  We walk all throughout the place and see no beer. 

And then I spot it.  In tiny, little, itty-bitty letters on the bottom of one of the before-mentioned clever signs it says "Coming soon".  

Yup.  A BAR that has no alcohol.  Only dead animals.

WORST BAR EVER

So, this is a tale of my trying to be a great wife.  I suggested a place that I thought would make for a funny note in an upcoming Ryan-written post and instead we drank beers, where?  On the couch.

Oh well.  I have no numbers, and I have no actual beer-drinking stories.  

The End.

*Or until the End of Days.  Whichever comes first.
**My parents do.  Well, only those last two things.  I hope.

[ed. note: It's Ryan.  Here are the numbers for the past couple of days.  Wednesday night I had two Otter Creak Octoberfests and an Anderson Valley IPA on the couch, you know, that place of places Liz previously mentioned.  Thursday night (after the show) I had, wait for it, an Avery Brown Ale and a Moa Dark Lager (from New Zealand!) on the couch, so those are gone.  Last night I took a trip to jolly ol' England, having a Fullers Extraspecial ESB, Sam Smith Organic Lager, and a Young's Double Chocolate Stout while watching Cameron Diaz have one of the worst Irish accents of all time in Gangs of New York on the Couch (which I guess is capitalized now).  Then, having run out of English ales, I had a Roscoes's Hop House Pale Ale.  So that's 9 beers since we last checked in, bringing the total to.....959.  41 to go!)