Dear Beer

Dear Beer,

It’s National Beer Day. What, you thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you? How could I? After all that we’ve been through together?

I remember that one time when I was a junior in high school and my parents had a bit of a party with a keg. And later, when everyone went to bed, one of the grown-ups (who shall remain nameless) sat up with me and let me drink some of that beer. Like a lot of it. Okay, it was probably 3 plastic cups, but I got pretty buzzed and extremely philosophical. It was Budweiser, but I didn’t know any better then so I can’t be blamed.

After high school, my beer of preference was Michelob for a few years. I mean, wait. No, I’m sorry. That would be illegal, drinking at 18 and 19 years old. I must have imagined all that beer. Never mind. Skip this paragraph.

A few years later, when me and my family were stationed overseas in England, it was there that I learned what real beer was. I had my first sip of Guinness there and by the time we came back three years later, I almost had a taste for it. Yeah, that took a while. But I’m glad I stuck with it. It is the nectar of the gods.


I don’t know where I’d be without you, beer. You’ve given me confidence so many times I can’t possibly count them all. You’ve helped me work up the courage to speak with women who aren’t bringing me beer. It was after two pitchers of beer in that Dallas sports bar that I finally felt confident enough to sing karaoke for the first time. I totally butchered “Heartache Tonight,” but I loved it, anyway.

And finally, it was you that gave me this precious beer gut. Sure, the sedentary lifestyle, crappy eating, and hatred for exercise helped, but you get the real credit. Without you, I wouldn’t look like an oversized Weeble.

Karl drinking a beer

I miss you, beer. A lot. You’re the best for lubricating my throat at karaoke. And on poker nights? You just can’t be beat. But I had to give you up months ago. All of a sudden at MY age I’m having trouble with gluten. It’s nothing personal, beer, it’s the wheat. It brings me severe pain.

I still have a beer or two now and again because you’ll always be my first love, alcoholically speaking. I would drink a couple in your honor tonight, my dear friend, but I can’t because of my idiotic throat. So I’ll have to give you a rain check toast instead.

Here’s to you, beer. You were there for me in the up times and the down times. I’m glad you’re there for others. You’re a great friend. Except for when I woke up in my front yard that one time. Or the time I woke up in my car and had no idea where I was. Oh, and this other time…well, we could reminisce all night like this.

Take care, beer. Happy National Beer Day.

Yours always,


7 thoughts on “Dear Beer

  1. Guinness, Murphy’s, and Beamish were the Stouts of choice for me back in the day. These days I’ve gone all beer snobby and drink IPAs. Which to be fair, while there is a hipster overtone, do taste bloody amazing.

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