There’s this show on television where some blonde haired broad from California apparently wonders around the country tasting homemade craft beer. Her name is Meg Gill. She loves beer. She also seems to be looking for home brewer to steal a recipe from or some such nonsense. Okay, maybe “steal” isn’t the right word. I think she’s holding a contest of some sort. Like whomever wins, gets to have their beer brewed in an actual, real-life brewery. So anyhow…
In one particular episode, this chick is wondering around New York City, hanging out with hipsters, and drinking beer when she encounters a self-styled anarchist. The anarchist lives in a house. The anarchist seems clean, well-groomed, and clothed. The anarchist has a job, because anarchists have to eat too. He also brews beer. He wins the contest, because anarchists are all about competition.
The most interesting thing about this anarchist fella is that he sources yeast from a log. He found the log in a park somewhere. This makes him unique because yeast is pretty important to the production of delicious beer. Also there are many sources of yeast. Basically yeast adds flavor to beer. From what I understand, if you ferment strawberries with yeast, or something…look I really don’t understand the science behind this, but I think the yeast eats the strawberries and poops in the mixture or whatever, and “magic” beer that tastes like strawberries eventually appears in your closet.
Anyhow, upon hearing about log yeast, I thought – “I create beer using yeast harvested from my very own, special, vagina.”
Of course, I thought this was hilarious. I’m sad that way. So I immediately skyped my husband, because he was in the bathroom and I can’t say such marvelous thoughts aloud when my a dad is around. My dad is sitting right here. My dad thinks dark drinks, like coca cola and Guinness, are the devil. I asked my dad why he thought this. And he didn’t answer, so my assumption is that he’s a stealth Mormon or something.
I also skyped my sister, Pat. Pat sends me a picture of her new couch in response. This makes me sad. I want a reaction, damnit. I can’t keep vulgar stuff like this to myself. Finally she responds – “Eww, tab, eww.”