I'm horrible with cards.
Birthday cards, insurance cards, gift cards, meal cards, prayer cards; you name the card and I'll tell you many times I've lost one. I should pin them all to my shirt so I don't lose them and so that I'll remember to use them when the need arise.
"Ah yes, I do have a gift card for these three videos: Little Big Horny, Dorf on your Mom and Little Debbie does Munchkinland."
I don't know why I bother taking these restaurant meal cards, I just know they'll creep into a dark crevase of my truck, or my wallet, or my S/M drawer where I'll find it years later. Of course, that's when I realize I was tantalizingly close to earning myself a free butt-water and pit sweat smoothy. In fact, recently, we found I had four different cards to the same restaurant, each with a a few numbers punched out. Put all those holes together and I'm landing free cat-in-soy-sauce meals for a week.
That's the story of my life, so close yet so far.
I do have one card that I try (emphasize try) to protect like it's a lifeline to the man upstairs. It's my World Beer Tour card from OC (that's what me and the Sports Geek call it because it makes us sound cool, like we're talking about some mafia thing - if there was such an organization [I can't go into much more detail than that, you understand why]). That card is gold - literally, it's yellow and blue and all sorts of beautiful. Frodo had his ring, I have my beer card.
Here's how my precious works. We take it to OC, which sells more than a 120 different kinds of beer. It's beer heaven. It promotes beer multiculturalism. That's right, I'm spreading beer peace and love one bottle at a time.
OC organizes its beers into categories so those of us on the tour can break our nights up by countries, drafts or sissy-fruity beers (I guess that's for the ladies on the tour). I think they categorize into countries so that when the beer menu begins dancing the jitterbug in front of your eyes because you've pounded three English beers that pour like quick-dry concrete you can just say, "Get me the next one in line from Bangladesh."
The goal: Drink 110 different bad boys and your name plus your own saying gets plastered on a plaque. It's quite an honor. Sports Geek is up there and is working on his second name card. His Funny Man brother is up there as well, so we all know what's important in their life. I'm still 66 away from imortality. But one day I will reach my dream and I'll be sure to sing from the mountaintop when I do so - that's if i'm drunk enough to carry a tune.
But back to me losing cards. Recently, Sports Geek and I stopped over at OC for a few post-work brewskies from the state of Colorado's fine microbrewries (fine is a subjective term. I think it means tastes like toe puss when mixed with barley and hopps in whatever language they speak in Colorado). Well, we maxed out our card allowance for the evening - 4- and myself being slightly addled from swilling the Rocky Mountain Piss water left the card on the table. Frantic, like I just lost my baby at a Wal-Mart, I call OC the next morning, tearful, hoping the human pin chushion and ink pad who served our table didn't decide to swipe my card and the 40 beers I'd lapped down. You all know my luck, of course they didn't find it, but the drop out on the phone said I could come in with my drivers license and get a new card.
All is right with the world now. I have my baby back and I can order all the brews I want from Flying Dog or Moose Drool.
And yes, I've pinned my beer card to my shirt so it will never leave my sight again.
Hmmm ... 60 beers to go, better start thinking about the saying.
6 comments:
I think as a punishment for losing your card, you should have to start from the beginning with the beer count.....then again, drinking more beer, is that really a punishment? : )
The longer you wait to come up with your quote the more the pressure mounts. I actually think my friend Shonda, who has broken 100, is duckng going because she just can't handle it at this point.
By the way she too has lost her card, not surprising since the girl has lost keys, cell phones, etc.
She too is also crafty. Upon arriving at the OC one time she discovered the card was not on her being. So she called home, made her sister dig through personal belongings to find the card, borrowed a pen from the waitress so she could write down her card number so beer consumed that night would be added to her total.
Another time she called me on the phone to find me cheating on her, drinking at the OC with someone else. What a bastard.
Anyway, since she was out of state for the summer she was concerned her card would cease being good. Refusing to panic she rattled off her card ID to me and asked me to drink a beer to keep her card alive.
And me being the good guy made the sacrifice. If you can't drink a beer in the name of friendship what kind of friend are you is my motto.
It's all in the name of beer immortality. The most worthy of pursuits.
Okay, I'm not one of the cool kids (and I prefer to live in a temperature cooler than Satan's asshole), so what the hell is OC? It sounds pretty awesome.
And what are SportsGeek and his brother's sayings? It's your blog and all, but now I'm curious.
Look, I'm not going out with you aggain until you remove that stupid O(ld) C(hicago) -just for you, Lisa- card from your shirt.
What are you? FOUR? Do I need to cut the crusts off your sandwiches, too?
Well, Wife, now that you mention it, yes you should be cutting the crusts off my sandwiches. I wasn't going to say anything because I thought it went without saying. As for Funny Man's sayings, I think it's "AA here I come." I don't remember Sports Geek's, so I guess I'll have to go back to Old Chicago (I'm sure they are in Cali too) to check in see. Oh darn!
Nope, I checked, no Old Chicago in CA. We have Rock Bottom Brewery which is the same parent company, but I don't think they have a card system like the one you're talking aobut. Lucky!
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