Confession Time

I really didn't think I was a beer snob, but lately people are hiding Bud Light behind their backs when I walk into the room holding a pint of craft beer. My friends will text me things like "I was drinking Hamm's last night and thought to myself Kellie wouldn't approve." I don't know what I did to earn the title of a beer snob, but I don't deserve it. Keep reading, it'll all make sense soon.

Sometimes having a beer blog can get tricky. On the one hand, I love to support small, local and creative microbreweries. On the other hand, I love to drink cheap domestic beer directly from the pitcher at a dark and dirty bar. It's a classic case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There are weekends that I want my beer to be just an inebriate--nothing more. I'm risking pissing off real beer snobs with this confession, but I'm a senior in college and I'm going to act like it damnit.

Good thing I wasn't driving, it's a smidge over the limit.

If we're on the topic of confessing my sins in the realm of craft beer, here are the events of my weekend bender:

Day 1:
-Drink Bud Light at a birthday gathering because it only costs $4 for a pitcher. Still have enough cash to buy the birthday girl a shot.

Next day:
-Attend a True American drinking game (look it up if you don't understand the reference). Chug a wide variety of domestic beers and jump around on furniture.
-Then go to aformentioned "dark and dirty bar." Buy a $3 dollar pitcher of PBR. Ask the bartender for too few glasses, which means I get drink directly from the pitcher. Still have enough money to get Yesterdog (look it up and come to GR to eat it).

Next day:
-Be hungover. Drink a PBR in the shower. Leave the empty can on the shelf for your roommates to find.
-Shotgun a PBR in the living room not spilling one drop. Shout "Are you not entertained?!" immediately after.
-Go to a less dirty bar. Drink Rolling Rock from a mason jar. Compete for the highest score using a breathalyzer. Lose. Still have enough money for Yesterdog.

Next Day:
-Make a fake promise to never drink again. Listen to your roommates laugh at your lie.
-Eat brunch.
-Nap.

If you did the math correctly, I drank zero ounces of craft beer and roughly a bazillion piss-flavored calories. But did I make memories? You bet.

I will never fall out of love with craft beer, but there is a time and a place for everything. I like to savor my good stuff, not puncture the can on the bottom and finish it in 7 seconds. I explain drinking cheap domestic as buying generic products--they get the job done, but people will think you're poor, and usually they're right. C'est la vie.