Over Memorial Day weekend, I was in Boulder visiting friends. Before throwing some big ass steaks on the grill, we hit up some liquor store nearby and got the booze ready. Back at their place, we started setting things up in the back yard. I had my swimming shorts on -- some short grey numbers -- and was totally ready to go. We bought a frisbee that day to throw around as well. Shit was going to be awesome.
Having drank warm beer in the past, I learned my lesson and opted for a tastier way to indulge in my award winning beverages. Being the classy people that we are, we ignored the idea of a cooler and ice. Ice? Ice?! Fuck ice. That shit just melts and becomes cold water. Why not cut out the middle man and put the fucking beer in cold water? After all, Boulder Creek was right there and cold as, well at least as cold as melted ice.
Initially, I sat the entire guy in there. Naturally, I had pulled one for consumption and had thought that the weight of the other five beers would be enough to secure it. Alas, when the current started taking them away, I thought better and pulled them out so that two full PBRs were hanging out on the bank like giant, awesome drunk-gettin'-ya anchors. I walked away confident that I was about have some good beer with a good meal.
Then, when my idiot friend came down with a sack full of every else's beers, asking where I put mine so he could tie them all together, I pointed them out. Walking to the bank he yelled that he couldn't find them. Hating him already, I was not happy to have to walk over and point out five unmistakable tall-boys. Fighting my urge to call him names that those working in special needs fields don't approve of, I walked over. Mother Fucker! My god damned beer was gone. I immediately cursed that creek and began running downstream.
With another friend, a few lots down, we learned that some ducks were nesting nearby and that, a few lots further down, there was a gate that could have easily grabbed my beer, awaiting our reunion. Initially, I thought about how cute ducks are. Have you ever seen one get completely submerged and try to swim to the bottom for food? Adorable! Then thoughts of the duck and the empty ring I had forgotten to cut gave me a fear I don't want to attempt to put into words. No, I will not relive that. I ran down to whatever street may have had the gate and began my quest to save an animal and get drunk. Images of a poor little duck trying to sip on a Pabst when, suddenly, a nasty plastic ring grabs him by the neck, pulls him under and holds him there until his end haunted my run. And I was barefoot so my feet hurt pretty badly.
Getting to the gate, I gave up hope. The cause was lost. I would be forced to drink Miller High Life Lights and some nicer beers I don't want to talk about. I was only able to celebrate with the troops in a proper fashion for one 16 ounce can. I apologize to any of you who may have served.
This posting, clearly, is not in hopes of getting my beer back. I'm no longer in Colorado and I have since had many a Pabst Blue Ribbon. This is simply a hope that someone out there can come forward and ensure me that my quest to find the beer was not for naught. I can't sleep at night thinking that there could be five 16 ounce PBRs at the bottom of a fucking gypsy creek hell bent on fucking over our troops. If you found this beer, please let me know that you drank it and were deserving of it. How will you know if your deserving of my beer? Let's see.
Are you a veteran soaking in the glory of all you've done? You deserve it.
Are you a frat dude trying to get a girl to show you her titties down by the creek? You deserve it.
Are you a group of frat dudes trying to talk a freshlady into losing her virginity to the entire lot of you at once? She deserves it. Really, give them to her.
Are you a bum, hanging by the banks of the creek watching the water go by? Drink up, darlin'.
I'm not one to lie or embellish, so I would greatly appreciate the same from you. If you have not seen my PBR, please do not get my hopes up. I'll see through your shit. Somehow. Some. How.
via Craigslist http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bou/3047089697.html
Having drank warm beer in the past, I learned my lesson and opted for a tastier way to indulge in my award winning beverages. Being the classy people that we are, we ignored the idea of a cooler and ice. Ice? Ice?! Fuck ice. That shit just melts and becomes cold water. Why not cut out the middle man and put the fucking beer in cold water? After all, Boulder Creek was right there and cold as, well at least as cold as melted ice.
Initially, I sat the entire guy in there. Naturally, I had pulled one for consumption and had thought that the weight of the other five beers would be enough to secure it. Alas, when the current started taking them away, I thought better and pulled them out so that two full PBRs were hanging out on the bank like giant, awesome drunk-gettin'-ya anchors. I walked away confident that I was about have some good beer with a good meal.
Then, when my idiot friend came down with a sack full of every else's beers, asking where I put mine so he could tie them all together, I pointed them out. Walking to the bank he yelled that he couldn't find them. Hating him already, I was not happy to have to walk over and point out five unmistakable tall-boys. Fighting my urge to call him names that those working in special needs fields don't approve of, I walked over. Mother Fucker! My god damned beer was gone. I immediately cursed that creek and began running downstream.
With another friend, a few lots down, we learned that some ducks were nesting nearby and that, a few lots further down, there was a gate that could have easily grabbed my beer, awaiting our reunion. Initially, I thought about how cute ducks are. Have you ever seen one get completely submerged and try to swim to the bottom for food? Adorable! Then thoughts of the duck and the empty ring I had forgotten to cut gave me a fear I don't want to attempt to put into words. No, I will not relive that. I ran down to whatever street may have had the gate and began my quest to save an animal and get drunk. Images of a poor little duck trying to sip on a Pabst when, suddenly, a nasty plastic ring grabs him by the neck, pulls him under and holds him there until his end haunted my run. And I was barefoot so my feet hurt pretty badly.
Getting to the gate, I gave up hope. The cause was lost. I would be forced to drink Miller High Life Lights and some nicer beers I don't want to talk about. I was only able to celebrate with the troops in a proper fashion for one 16 ounce can. I apologize to any of you who may have served.
This posting, clearly, is not in hopes of getting my beer back. I'm no longer in Colorado and I have since had many a Pabst Blue Ribbon. This is simply a hope that someone out there can come forward and ensure me that my quest to find the beer was not for naught. I can't sleep at night thinking that there could be five 16 ounce PBRs at the bottom of a fucking gypsy creek hell bent on fucking over our troops. If you found this beer, please let me know that you drank it and were deserving of it. How will you know if your deserving of my beer? Let's see.
Are you a veteran soaking in the glory of all you've done? You deserve it.
Are you a frat dude trying to get a girl to show you her titties down by the creek? You deserve it.
Are you a group of frat dudes trying to talk a freshlady into losing her virginity to the entire lot of you at once? She deserves it. Really, give them to her.
Are you a bum, hanging by the banks of the creek watching the water go by? Drink up, darlin'.
I'm not one to lie or embellish, so I would greatly appreciate the same from you. If you have not seen my PBR, please do not get my hopes up. I'll see through your shit. Somehow. Some. How.
- Location: Boulder Creek
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
via Craigslist http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bou/3047089697.html
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