I want to start off by saying that yes, this is a complete rip off of National Lampoon’s Van Wilder. But this is such an important topic, I thought that it needed to be studied in detail. And seeing as how the movie didn’t go into the intricacies of light and dark beers, I shall attempt to do it here. So prepare yourself! You’re about to take a journey into the depths of your own soul. Or maybe it’s the journey to the bottom of a bottle, I’ll let you decide.
First things first, I’m going to have to define the many different varieties of beer to put them in either of the two categories. I will be leaving out some types of beer if they fail to fit into one of the categories properly. In the category of light beer I will include: Belgian Wheat Ales, Hefeweizen, American Wheat Ales, Pilsners, American Standard Beers (Budweiser, Coors Original, etc.), and American Light Beers (Bud Light, Coors Light, etc.). In the category of dark beer I will include: Brown Ales and Nut Brown Ales, Porters, Stouts, and German Bocks. I have left out most Amber beers, Pale Ales, IPA’s, Oktoberfest beers, and other seasonal brews for this discussion because they are either in between light and dark in terms of color and body or they have other unique characteristics that fall into neither camp.
Ok, now that that’s out of the way, we can begin our discussion. The first thing I want you at home to do is to pour yourself a glass of your favorite beer. Not only will you be able to sample firsthand the characteristics of the beer while I talk about it, but you will also introduce alcohol into your system. And I have found that when talking about beer, it’s a good idea to already have that alcohol flowing through your bloodstream. Go ahead, I’ll wait for you to grab a beer out of the fridge, I don’t have anywhere else to be right now.
The most important characteristics that will divide the beers are color, body, and flavor. The color of the beer describes what you can see. Light beers tend to range from light orange or amber to almost pure white, while dark beers start from a deep amber in color and end up in opaque black. The body of a beer will vary from light to medium to heavy. Light beers tend to be lighter in body while dark beers tend to be heavier. This will affect how easy it is to drink a particular beer and how filling it will ultimately be. Meanwhile, beers can be flavored with hops or malt and can be bitter or sweet. The composition of the beers ingredients and the method it is fermented will usually decide the beer’s flavor.
Let’s talk about color! How important is a beer’s color to you? No seriously, I want you to stop and think for just a minute about that. What does a beer’s color mean to you? Does it make the beer look tasty and refreshing? Does it alert you to what flavors you should expect from the beer? These are all important questions that you should keep in mind when analyzing your beer.
I hate to say this, but when it comes to color, its pretty much all in the eye of the beholder. The color of the beer is a unique distinction that needs to be mentioned, and it hints at what other characteristics you can expect from the beer, but it is not what ultimately makes or breaks a beer. Flavor will make the beer. Color is a matter of preference that is derived from your taste in beer. Suffice it to say that color, although important in alerting your other senses, does little to adequately score points in this battle of the beers.
Now then, we can move on to a discussion about body. And no I’m not talking about Carmen Electra, I’m talking about beer! We will talk about Carmen another time, with lots of pictures, mainly in bikinis... Lighter beers tend to have lighter bodies and are therefore easier to drink and tend to be less filling. Meanwhile dark beers have heavier bodies which make them harder to drink and more filling. I think everyone knows that drinking Guinness, arguably the most popular dark beer, is like eating a whole loaf bread, in a pint glass. Thus, we can make one important distinction:
Light beers are easier to chug and therefore, much easier to drink quickly and get drunk quickly. I think this is quite evident on the collegiate campus where light beers appear in abundance. Score one point for light beers, they win the college crowd. Just take into mind that this point does not come from taste or the flavor of the beer, but from its ease of drinking and affordability to quickly and efficiently get coeds drunk. But hey, I’m ok with that. Drunk: it’s a noble goal.
Now let’s talk about taste. Which beers taste better? This of course, is a matter of opinion, but I want to go through it logically and methodically. First off, I want to throw out all American Standard and Light beers because, well they suck. They are pale and have a low hop flavor with an emphasis on having less actual flavor and taste making them go down more like water. Enough said. Ok, moving on. Belgian and American Wheat Ales and Hefeweizen have a very light and slightly fruity aroma and taste sweeter than other beers. Pilsners, on the other hand, taste highly of hops and they leave a cool and clean feeling on the pallet.
Dark beers have a different range of flavors. Brown Ales tend to have a nutty flavor as exemplified by Newcastle Brown Ale. Porters are very thick beers that are usually somewhat bitter and taste heavily of hops and malt (the two main ingredients of beer). Stouts are similar to Porters in that they are both very thick and heavy beers. Most Stouts tend to be bitter and dry, while some Stouts can be sweeter and creamier. German Bocks are your classic dark rich beer flavor with very little in the way of hops.
I know that most people drink lighter beers and that light beers outsell dark ones in the USA. But I’m still giving this point to dark beers. The problem with the statistics here is that all American Standard beers are light beers, and the Big Three (Budweiser, Coors, and Miller) have a stranglehold on the marketplace with their enormous advertising budgets and distribution networks. As I said before, I’m throwing these beers out. Anheuser-Busch continues the trend to make its beer taste more like water with its Budweiser Select and Michelob Ultra labels. And I don’t applaud bottle water marketed as beer. Furthermore, some light beers have a fruity and sweet taste, and I stand on record right now saying that anything that is fruity is not beer. So, throw out the Big Three from the US and the fruity stuff, and you end up with dark beer winning in the taste category.
My final category, which I failed to allude to earlier, is chicks. What kind of beer do chicks drink? And yes, it is important. If you can’t get the girls to drink beer, then what’s the point of buying the beer in the first place? For isn’t existence just a long overdone attempt to get girls drunk? I imagine cavemen were offering primitive moonshine to the more attractive pre homo-sapiens women in an attempt to get under their leopard skins. How else do you think those hideously hairy cavemen got lucky? So, what kind of beer do chicks drink? Hefeweizen and Belgian Wheat Ales tend to be popular among the ladies, as do other styles of light beer. Women just don’t seem to have a pallet for the dark beers. And that makes this point go to light beer.
So at the end of the day and the end of this story, we have a final score: Light Beer 2 – Dark Beer 1. Light beer wins the showdown. Personally, I’m a fan of dark beers, Stouts most especially, so it pains me to see my chosen beer go down on the field of battle. But that’s ok, people’s tastes change over time, and maybe one day dark beer can win this fight. But until that time, I will be right here, continuously providing you with all of the important facts and semi-truths of beer, liquor, and alcohol in general. It is a never-ending quest, and my promise to you that I will continue to explore the world of beer and bring you only the most important and critical information. So until next time, drink up!
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Wild, Wild Horses Couldn't Keep Me Away (This is the conclusion to the story I began last week. Enjoy.)“
No, they’re horses,” I replied while watching three small horses walk up from the beach and into our camping area. Now this didn’t come as much of a shock to either of us since Shackleford Island is somewhat famous for being home to wild ponies. The ponies were left there a few hundred years ago by the Spanish and they survived on the island as wild horses, up to this point. Now I’ll have to admit that I was a little bit anxious about the horses. I didn’t want them coming up and going through our gear or food in the middle of the night. And the horses did look rather heavy, I was sure if one stepped on me while I was sleeping that it would hurt, and it would hurt a lot.
But my tent mate didn’t share my worries. In fact, it was quite the opposite, he was overcome with excitement and wonder at the sight of the wild beasts. He quickly snapped a picture of ponies and quietly slid out of the tent. He really wanted to pet them for some strange reason. Maybe he had some wild fantasy of riding a pony barebacked down the beach with only the light from the moon and the stars to guide him. Or maybe he really wanted to catch rabies from a wild animal, honestly, I just don’t know. But the horses would have none of it. They had boldly and quietly walked over towards our encampment to see who we were and what was going on. Now that Michael was trying to touch them, they simply turned around and walked off not paying us any more attention. They were acting like they were far too cool to acknowledge us any longer. Apparently we weren’t cool enough for them. It was like high school all over again.
Finally, we lay down for the night. It was then that the refried beans made themselves know, and they were absolutely horrible. The noxious gas filled our tent and almost made me pass out from a lack of oxygen. I would have gone outside to get some fresh air except for the flesh-eating zombie bugs that awaited me outside. Take my advice: do not bring Mexican food on camping trips, ever. But I had finally made it into the realm of sleep when the neighing of a nearby horse woke me up with a start. My pulse began racing as I scanned through the mesh of the tent looking for the horse that I could have sworn was standing right next to us. As it turned out, sound travels quite well on a quiet night and the beast was about thirty yards away at the time. He neighed a few more times before trotting off to bother someone else. I’m not sure if he was marking his territory or doing his best to scare us, but he definitely succeeded in the latter.
Michael and I watched for the pony who had so suddenly woken us up for a few minutes before retiring to bed once again. Of course, I had some trouble sleeping on the ground, I didn’t realize that sand made for such a horrible sleeping surface. You might be wondering why I was sleeping on the ground when I brought along an air mattress. Well, this is a good story. When we arrived at our embarkation point earlier that day and began loading up the kayaks we realized that Michael’s sleeping bag wasn’t designed to be squished into small spaces, unlike mine. So we didn’t have the room for it and we resolved to leave it behind. Now Michael was upset since he left his blanket back at his house on a last minute decision. He has a habit of making last minute decisions that don’t turn out right. So, he packed his only towel for his use as a bed sheet. Now, since he had nothing to put between himself and the ground, and I at least had a sleeping bag, I was so incredibly considerate to allow him to use my air mattress, which he said made things much more comfortable. He repaid my kindness by letting loose a series of farts that released the foul toxic smell from his refried beans nearly chocking me to death. Thanks Michael.
The next day I awoke with a sore back and sore sides from the harsh ground. But complaining is for wienies, so I left it at that. We had a very light breakfast that morning and packed up the campsite early. We made the ten minute hike back to the other side of the island and found our kayaks right in the place we left them. Now a quick note: always remember to pull your kayak up to the tree line, this way you can assure the tide doesn’t come in and whisk your kayak away leaving you stranded. I think that’s pretty important to remember. Luckily, Michael and I had remembered to do that. So we loaded our gear back into the kayaks and pushed our craft back into the water.
Since it was early Sunday morning still, we decided to paddle around the island for a while and basically just goof off until we headed back in. While paddling around the island we came across another group of horses. Michael once again, jumped out of his kayak and approached the majestic beasts. And once again, the ponies were far too cool to be seen socializing with us, and they turned and walked off slowly in the opposite direction. Well, damn.
Back in the kayaks we paddled around the island watching the seagulls sweep into the water and pluck out their breakfast. The sea life in those shallow waters was actually quite active. There were small fish, conks, hermit crabs, fiddler crabs, sand dollars, and many other living creatures whose names I am not familiar with. Hey, what did you expect, I’m a camper, not a zoologist (definition zoologist: person who knows the names of lots of different forms of life with no applicable skills to serve society).
On the way back we once again tried to cut through the wetlands, but this time we wanted to zigzag our way through the middle of them. Part of the way through my kayak got stuck. I quickly realized that a squid was holding me in place and would not let me go. The only things I had to combat the menacing squid were my oar and my wit. Luckily my wit is as sharp as a razor and it stings with the ferocity of the deadliest hornet. I quickly pointed behind the squid and asked “What is that?” When the squid looked behind him, I smashed him in the head with my oar and quickly paddled away and back out of the marshes. Once again I proved that Darwinism has a way of selecting against lesser and more gullible intelligences.
Well, either I was attacked by a squid, or it was low tide and my kayak got stuck on the silt bottom of the wetlands. I’ll let you decide how I got stuck. Either way, Michael and I retraced our path and left the wetlands. At one point we even had to get out of the boats and walk across some seaweed to get to deeper waters. But it was worth it, because once on the other side we spotted some dolphins not 300 yards away. We quickly paddled out to greet them. But the dolphins were moving away from us, much in the same way the horses had avoided us. Apparently we weren’t cool enough for the dolphins either. But still, it was a sight to see the dolphins swimming among the shallow waters within the sound.
Finally we turned our boats to our destination and went back home. All in all, we were gone for about 24 hours. Not exactly a grand adventure, but it was a great trip nonetheless. Although, all we had to show for it were a handful of pictures, about 100 bug bites each, and for me a not so pleasant sun burn. Hey, I’m white; the sun isn’t exactly my best friend. But the memories will last a lifetime for me, and I can’t wait to do it again. And as always we followed the camper’s adage to take only pictures and to leave only footprints. Good stuff.
So, what did we learn from this weekend? Number one: chicks who own kayaks are awesome. Number two: do not, under any circumstances, feed your tent mate refried beans, or any beans for that matter. Number three: always remember to bring a knife of some sort while camping, even a Swiss Army Knife can prove invaluable in many situations. Number four: do not leave your tent door open, you only invite in the most bloodthirsty creatures of the night, mosquitoes. Number 5: ponies are way too cool to hang out with me. And number 6: I don’t care about the indigenous animals or other dangers of the trip; wild horses couldn’t keep me away from having adventures in the great outdoors.
But my tent mate didn’t share my worries. In fact, it was quite the opposite, he was overcome with excitement and wonder at the sight of the wild beasts. He quickly snapped a picture of ponies and quietly slid out of the tent. He really wanted to pet them for some strange reason. Maybe he had some wild fantasy of riding a pony barebacked down the beach with only the light from the moon and the stars to guide him. Or maybe he really wanted to catch rabies from a wild animal, honestly, I just don’t know. But the horses would have none of it. They had boldly and quietly walked over towards our encampment to see who we were and what was going on. Now that Michael was trying to touch them, they simply turned around and walked off not paying us any more attention. They were acting like they were far too cool to acknowledge us any longer. Apparently we weren’t cool enough for them. It was like high school all over again.
Finally, we lay down for the night. It was then that the refried beans made themselves know, and they were absolutely horrible. The noxious gas filled our tent and almost made me pass out from a lack of oxygen. I would have gone outside to get some fresh air except for the flesh-eating zombie bugs that awaited me outside. Take my advice: do not bring Mexican food on camping trips, ever. But I had finally made it into the realm of sleep when the neighing of a nearby horse woke me up with a start. My pulse began racing as I scanned through the mesh of the tent looking for the horse that I could have sworn was standing right next to us. As it turned out, sound travels quite well on a quiet night and the beast was about thirty yards away at the time. He neighed a few more times before trotting off to bother someone else. I’m not sure if he was marking his territory or doing his best to scare us, but he definitely succeeded in the latter.
Michael and I watched for the pony who had so suddenly woken us up for a few minutes before retiring to bed once again. Of course, I had some trouble sleeping on the ground, I didn’t realize that sand made for such a horrible sleeping surface. You might be wondering why I was sleeping on the ground when I brought along an air mattress. Well, this is a good story. When we arrived at our embarkation point earlier that day and began loading up the kayaks we realized that Michael’s sleeping bag wasn’t designed to be squished into small spaces, unlike mine. So we didn’t have the room for it and we resolved to leave it behind. Now Michael was upset since he left his blanket back at his house on a last minute decision. He has a habit of making last minute decisions that don’t turn out right. So, he packed his only towel for his use as a bed sheet. Now, since he had nothing to put between himself and the ground, and I at least had a sleeping bag, I was so incredibly considerate to allow him to use my air mattress, which he said made things much more comfortable. He repaid my kindness by letting loose a series of farts that released the foul toxic smell from his refried beans nearly chocking me to death. Thanks Michael.
The next day I awoke with a sore back and sore sides from the harsh ground. But complaining is for wienies, so I left it at that. We had a very light breakfast that morning and packed up the campsite early. We made the ten minute hike back to the other side of the island and found our kayaks right in the place we left them. Now a quick note: always remember to pull your kayak up to the tree line, this way you can assure the tide doesn’t come in and whisk your kayak away leaving you stranded. I think that’s pretty important to remember. Luckily, Michael and I had remembered to do that. So we loaded our gear back into the kayaks and pushed our craft back into the water.
Since it was early Sunday morning still, we decided to paddle around the island for a while and basically just goof off until we headed back in. While paddling around the island we came across another group of horses. Michael once again, jumped out of his kayak and approached the majestic beasts. And once again, the ponies were far too cool to be seen socializing with us, and they turned and walked off slowly in the opposite direction. Well, damn.
Back in the kayaks we paddled around the island watching the seagulls sweep into the water and pluck out their breakfast. The sea life in those shallow waters was actually quite active. There were small fish, conks, hermit crabs, fiddler crabs, sand dollars, and many other living creatures whose names I am not familiar with. Hey, what did you expect, I’m a camper, not a zoologist (definition zoologist: person who knows the names of lots of different forms of life with no applicable skills to serve society).
On the way back we once again tried to cut through the wetlands, but this time we wanted to zigzag our way through the middle of them. Part of the way through my kayak got stuck. I quickly realized that a squid was holding me in place and would not let me go. The only things I had to combat the menacing squid were my oar and my wit. Luckily my wit is as sharp as a razor and it stings with the ferocity of the deadliest hornet. I quickly pointed behind the squid and asked “What is that?” When the squid looked behind him, I smashed him in the head with my oar and quickly paddled away and back out of the marshes. Once again I proved that Darwinism has a way of selecting against lesser and more gullible intelligences.
Well, either I was attacked by a squid, or it was low tide and my kayak got stuck on the silt bottom of the wetlands. I’ll let you decide how I got stuck. Either way, Michael and I retraced our path and left the wetlands. At one point we even had to get out of the boats and walk across some seaweed to get to deeper waters. But it was worth it, because once on the other side we spotted some dolphins not 300 yards away. We quickly paddled out to greet them. But the dolphins were moving away from us, much in the same way the horses had avoided us. Apparently we weren’t cool enough for the dolphins either. But still, it was a sight to see the dolphins swimming among the shallow waters within the sound.
Finally we turned our boats to our destination and went back home. All in all, we were gone for about 24 hours. Not exactly a grand adventure, but it was a great trip nonetheless. Although, all we had to show for it were a handful of pictures, about 100 bug bites each, and for me a not so pleasant sun burn. Hey, I’m white; the sun isn’t exactly my best friend. But the memories will last a lifetime for me, and I can’t wait to do it again. And as always we followed the camper’s adage to take only pictures and to leave only footprints. Good stuff.
So, what did we learn from this weekend? Number one: chicks who own kayaks are awesome. Number two: do not, under any circumstances, feed your tent mate refried beans, or any beans for that matter. Number three: always remember to bring a knife of some sort while camping, even a Swiss Army Knife can prove invaluable in many situations. Number four: do not leave your tent door open, you only invite in the most bloodthirsty creatures of the night, mosquitoes. Number 5: ponies are way too cool to hang out with me. And number 6: I don’t care about the indigenous animals or other dangers of the trip; wild horses couldn’t keep me away from having adventures in the great outdoors.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Wild Horses Couldn’t Keep Me Away
So I had big plans this past weekend. A couple of friends and I were supposed to head up into the mountains, pitch a tent, and spend a few days with nature. We were even planning on doing some white water rafting on Saturday. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Everyone decided to back out on me and that left only me and my friend Michael left.
Now don’t get me wrong, Michael is a good guy, but I don’t really think spending that much time alone with him, away from civilization, is a good idea. It’s just not my thing. But since I had the whole weekend blocked off with no plans anyway, I decided to go visit Michael at the beach, where he is spending his summer. Now the one thing to know about Michael is that whenever I’m around him, girls always seem to be much more interested in him than they are of me. And this is a good thing. I went down to the beach to drink, not to meet girls. Girls just distract you from the booze.
But, as luck would have it, Michael had another idea in mind. He figured out that we could borrow some kayaks from some of his friends, paddle out to an island nearby, and camp out there for a night. Now that’s the kind of adventure I was looking forward to for the weekend! So we resolved to get an early start on Saturday so we could get everything together and head out.
Of course, being the lazy bums that we tend to be, we didn’t quite make it out of bed until almost noon. And we still weren’t prepared for the trip. So we set out to collect the gear we needed. I already had a sleeping bag, a camping air mattress, a tent, and some food. Really, all we needed was to requisition some kayaks. As it turned out, both kayaks we borrowed were owned by girls. I don’t know about you, but it seems a bit odd to me that two rough and competent woodsmen would be begging girls to borrow some gear. But hey, the girls were cool and loaded us up with everything we needed (apparently we needed life jackets to protect us and oars to actually make the kayaks move, go figure).
So, after getting everything together, and listening to Michael moan and groan as he tried to decide what to bring with him (I was more or less already packed when I left home) we finally got both kayaks loaded up and we were ready to leave. We could have just taken one kayak that fitted both of us, but that would have required teamwork and cooperation, two skills that we have a tendency to lack. It was almost 3pm by the time took off from the public boat ramp in Beaufort, North Carolina. Better late than never, I guess.
I must have made the comment about a hundred times on Saturday, but the weather was absolutely gorgeous. I could not have asked for a better day. 84 degrees, beautiful blue sky, very little cloud cover, almost no humidity, and a nice gentle breeze keeping things cool. It was just perfect weather for our little expedition. And there were plenty of other people out enjoying the day as well.
Now neither Michael nor I have ever done anything like this before. Sure I’ve been camping plenty of times and have hiked on many, many mountain trails. But this was the first time I ever used water transportation to reach my campsite. But hey, I’ve always said experience was for wienies, or at least that’s what I was telling myself when we embarked on this trip. Luckily, this was a great first trip to take. The outer islands shield the inner waterways that we were paddling over from most of the oceans waves and currents. The only thing we had to worry about were the wakes from speed boats zipping by. So we favored somewhat more shallow waters where the boats with outboard motors couldn’t tread.
So we took our time paddling along until we reached the wetlands area about halfway to our destination. We cut through the edge of the wetlands, taking some time out to watch the diverse birdlife that inhabited the area and enjoying the extremely calm waters the wetlands provided. Then we pressed onward. It does take a lot of work to paddle your way through the ocean, and sometimes it seems like we weren’t making any progress at all, but in all honesty, it didn’t take too long for us to reach our destination: Shackleford Island. In all, our water journey took less than two hours.
After a short hike to the ocean side of the island, which was far less populated by the boaters, we found a suitable site and set up camp. After pitching the tent and wandering around taking in the natural wonder of the ocean and the island, we decided it was time for dinner. For our evening meal, I brought along some MRE’s. That stands for “Meal Ready to Eat.” Yes, yes I know, “Ready to Eat Meal” makes much more sense but then the abbreviation would be REM and there’s already a band called REM. And you know the military, they have a thing for acronyms.
Say what you want about the US military, but when it comes to food, they know what they’re doing with the MRE. The entire meal comes enclosed in heavy waterproof packaging, so there was no need for us to waste waterproof bags to hold the food. Each packet contains one main course, a side dish, some form of crackers and spread, a high calorie dessert (M&M’s, Snickers, etc), a spoon, and a small bag of napkins, wet naps, matches, and other useful things. And on top of it all, they cook themselves, so there was no need to bring a camping stove and propane on the trip. Just add water, and watch your food cook. No seriously, you add water, and it cooks. It’s like dehydrated heat. And yes, I know that sounds stupid.
While eating dinner, I realized I made mistakes number one and two for the trip. Number one, I forgot to bring along a knife. You should always, ALWAYS bring a knife when camping. Opening up a heavily sealed waterproof MRE without the aid of a sharp implement is not an easy thing to do, trust me. A knife is a basic tool that can be useful under many situations, so always bring one into the wilderness with you. The second mistake was when I gave my refried beans to Michael to eat. I probably should not have brought the Beef Enchilada MRE on the trip to begin with, but giving your tent mate beans is a bad, extremely bad idea.
So after a healthy dinner meant to sustain a warrior in combat, we cleaned up and got inside the tent. It wasn’t because we were tired or anything, we just wanted to get away from the bugs. And these weren’t just any bugs, they were mutant, bloodthirsty, communist bugs. The things were basically eating us alive. And of course, I made another mistake. I left the tent door open after we set it up. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but that allowed all manner of bugs and mosquitoes and other vampiric creatures of the night to inhabit our sleeping area. So we spent the first twenty minutes inside the tent killing off every bug we could. Unfortunately we could not get them all, and I’m sure the bugs had more than their fill for the night. I have the welts all over my arms and legs that still itch today thanks to them. And believe me, the itching never, ever goes away no matter how much I scratch, or how little I scratch it.
We had just finished our little attempt at bug genocide when Michael noticed something through the screen door of the tent. “Hey look, people,” he said. I turned to look and through the dim light of the setting sun slipping through the horizon, I noticed that those weren’t people.(To be continued next week.)
Now don’t get me wrong, Michael is a good guy, but I don’t really think spending that much time alone with him, away from civilization, is a good idea. It’s just not my thing. But since I had the whole weekend blocked off with no plans anyway, I decided to go visit Michael at the beach, where he is spending his summer. Now the one thing to know about Michael is that whenever I’m around him, girls always seem to be much more interested in him than they are of me. And this is a good thing. I went down to the beach to drink, not to meet girls. Girls just distract you from the booze.
But, as luck would have it, Michael had another idea in mind. He figured out that we could borrow some kayaks from some of his friends, paddle out to an island nearby, and camp out there for a night. Now that’s the kind of adventure I was looking forward to for the weekend! So we resolved to get an early start on Saturday so we could get everything together and head out.
Of course, being the lazy bums that we tend to be, we didn’t quite make it out of bed until almost noon. And we still weren’t prepared for the trip. So we set out to collect the gear we needed. I already had a sleeping bag, a camping air mattress, a tent, and some food. Really, all we needed was to requisition some kayaks. As it turned out, both kayaks we borrowed were owned by girls. I don’t know about you, but it seems a bit odd to me that two rough and competent woodsmen would be begging girls to borrow some gear. But hey, the girls were cool and loaded us up with everything we needed (apparently we needed life jackets to protect us and oars to actually make the kayaks move, go figure).
So, after getting everything together, and listening to Michael moan and groan as he tried to decide what to bring with him (I was more or less already packed when I left home) we finally got both kayaks loaded up and we were ready to leave. We could have just taken one kayak that fitted both of us, but that would have required teamwork and cooperation, two skills that we have a tendency to lack. It was almost 3pm by the time took off from the public boat ramp in Beaufort, North Carolina. Better late than never, I guess.
I must have made the comment about a hundred times on Saturday, but the weather was absolutely gorgeous. I could not have asked for a better day. 84 degrees, beautiful blue sky, very little cloud cover, almost no humidity, and a nice gentle breeze keeping things cool. It was just perfect weather for our little expedition. And there were plenty of other people out enjoying the day as well.
Now neither Michael nor I have ever done anything like this before. Sure I’ve been camping plenty of times and have hiked on many, many mountain trails. But this was the first time I ever used water transportation to reach my campsite. But hey, I’ve always said experience was for wienies, or at least that’s what I was telling myself when we embarked on this trip. Luckily, this was a great first trip to take. The outer islands shield the inner waterways that we were paddling over from most of the oceans waves and currents. The only thing we had to worry about were the wakes from speed boats zipping by. So we favored somewhat more shallow waters where the boats with outboard motors couldn’t tread.
So we took our time paddling along until we reached the wetlands area about halfway to our destination. We cut through the edge of the wetlands, taking some time out to watch the diverse birdlife that inhabited the area and enjoying the extremely calm waters the wetlands provided. Then we pressed onward. It does take a lot of work to paddle your way through the ocean, and sometimes it seems like we weren’t making any progress at all, but in all honesty, it didn’t take too long for us to reach our destination: Shackleford Island. In all, our water journey took less than two hours.
After a short hike to the ocean side of the island, which was far less populated by the boaters, we found a suitable site and set up camp. After pitching the tent and wandering around taking in the natural wonder of the ocean and the island, we decided it was time for dinner. For our evening meal, I brought along some MRE’s. That stands for “Meal Ready to Eat.” Yes, yes I know, “Ready to Eat Meal” makes much more sense but then the abbreviation would be REM and there’s already a band called REM. And you know the military, they have a thing for acronyms.
Say what you want about the US military, but when it comes to food, they know what they’re doing with the MRE. The entire meal comes enclosed in heavy waterproof packaging, so there was no need for us to waste waterproof bags to hold the food. Each packet contains one main course, a side dish, some form of crackers and spread, a high calorie dessert (M&M’s, Snickers, etc), a spoon, and a small bag of napkins, wet naps, matches, and other useful things. And on top of it all, they cook themselves, so there was no need to bring a camping stove and propane on the trip. Just add water, and watch your food cook. No seriously, you add water, and it cooks. It’s like dehydrated heat. And yes, I know that sounds stupid.
While eating dinner, I realized I made mistakes number one and two for the trip. Number one, I forgot to bring along a knife. You should always, ALWAYS bring a knife when camping. Opening up a heavily sealed waterproof MRE without the aid of a sharp implement is not an easy thing to do, trust me. A knife is a basic tool that can be useful under many situations, so always bring one into the wilderness with you. The second mistake was when I gave my refried beans to Michael to eat. I probably should not have brought the Beef Enchilada MRE on the trip to begin with, but giving your tent mate beans is a bad, extremely bad idea.
So after a healthy dinner meant to sustain a warrior in combat, we cleaned up and got inside the tent. It wasn’t because we were tired or anything, we just wanted to get away from the bugs. And these weren’t just any bugs, they were mutant, bloodthirsty, communist bugs. The things were basically eating us alive. And of course, I made another mistake. I left the tent door open after we set it up. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but that allowed all manner of bugs and mosquitoes and other vampiric creatures of the night to inhabit our sleeping area. So we spent the first twenty minutes inside the tent killing off every bug we could. Unfortunately we could not get them all, and I’m sure the bugs had more than their fill for the night. I have the welts all over my arms and legs that still itch today thanks to them. And believe me, the itching never, ever goes away no matter how much I scratch, or how little I scratch it.
We had just finished our little attempt at bug genocide when Michael noticed something through the screen door of the tent. “Hey look, people,” he said. I turned to look and through the dim light of the setting sun slipping through the horizon, I noticed that those weren’t people.(To be continued next week.)
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
An Age Old Battle
Lately a lot of my friends have been asking me why I don’t have a girlfriend. Well, it’s pretty simple. I think I have some issues. See, the last date I was on the girl mentioned an event that was coming up in two months that she though “we” should go to. About two seconds after she finished that sentence my windpipe closed itself off causing me to choke. It felt like Lord Vader was standing behind me utilizing the force choke hold and strangling me with his thoughts. I may have just given commitment an evil personification. That’s just me.
I’ve been told I’m afraid of commitment. I’m not so sure I agree. Honestly, it’s just that I don’t like to have obligations to people or to be emotionally driven by any strong moral pressures. That has nothing to do with commitment. See, Webster’s defines commitment as: the state or an instance of being obligated or emotionally impelled (and impelled only means: to drive forward as if by the exertion of strong moral pressure). They’re completely different things.
Still, I apparently need a girlfriend. I did not know this until my friends told me, repeatedly. They tell me I need someone who will comfort me, be there for me, care about me, and generally bring happiness to my life. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what they said, and as it turns out my Nintendo DS (Duel Screen) already covers all those bases. So why do I need a girlfriend?
No seriously, I want you to think about it for a minute. I have done a lot of thinking about it myself, and for me that much thought is a rare occurrence. So I have come up with a lengthy list of why my Nintendo DS is better than a girlfriend. You can make all the wisecracks you want, but I’m sure after reading this, you just might agree with me.
To buy a new game for the Nintendo DS, you simple go into a game store, pick out what you want, and pay for it: typically $35. To take a girl you just met out on a date, the typical dinner and a movie will cost you $45-$75 depending on the restaurant and whether you spring for the large tub of popcorn and drinks at the theater. Oh, and I’m pretty sure the video game will last a lot longer too.
The Nintendo DS has a built in microphone that is used in some of the games. So I know for a fact that it can hear me. With women, sometimes I wonder if they have the ability to hear at all. It’s like they never pay attention when I try to say something. Of course, I never have anything important to say, but that’s beside the point.
If you’re in the mood for a shooter, you throw Metroid Prime: Hunters into your DS. If later you change your mind and get in the mood for a puzzle game, you throw in Meteos or Brain Age. Now, if you’re dating a blonde girl and suddenly you’re in the mood for a redhead, well, try mentioning that to your girlfriend and see what happens.
Nintendo recently released the DS Lite. This Lite version is much more attractive and is easier to carry around than the original DS. Hmm… now if only I could find a girl who is more attractive and has less baggage.
The DS has a volume control on it. Yet, despite modern breakthroughs in medicine, technology, and psychiatry, mankind has yet to invent a volume control for women. In this respect, we’re no better off than the caveman was.
My DS has never asked me to change the channel so it can watch Oprah. Enough said.
If I’m in the mood for role-playing I can just snap a cartridge in to the DS and get started. The game system doesn’t judge me. Most women seem to get disgusted when I bring up the idea of role-playing. I mean, what’s so wrong about the Princess Leia slave girl outfit?
My DS is portable and can be carried around to hockey games, monster truck rallies, and seedy dive bars. Find me a girl who is willing to accompany me to all of those places, and I just might have a reason to put the video games down.
The DS is WiFi ready right out of the box. You can connect at any WiFi hotspot and challenge anyone around the globe with up to 16 players competing. It’s a great multiplayer system. When was the last time your girlfriend allowed you to play around with someone else?
When your DS has problems (like if you drop it down seven flights of stairs then keep it submerged in Kool-aid for over ten minutes) then you can always go out and purchase a new one for only $130. If your girlfriend has problems, then suddenly you have problems. You have to listen and be a part of every little insignificant bit of it. And no amount of money or therapy will make it go away.
Nintendo’s official DS slogan is “Touching is Good.” When was the last time a girl said that to you?
So I think you can see that I’m perfectly happy with my DS. It has brought so much joy in my life that I could not imagine a world without it. I think you can also see why I don’t have a girlfriend. After reading the above, who would want to go out with me? If you know of any girls that would, please send them my way.
Oh, and do yourself a favor, the next time your girlfriend hits “that time of the month,” lock yourself in a closet, down in the basement, in your neighbors house with a Nintendo DS. Trust me the DS will never have wild and crazy mood swings no matter what the lunar cycle is. Life with a DS is so much less complicated.
I’ve been told I’m afraid of commitment. I’m not so sure I agree. Honestly, it’s just that I don’t like to have obligations to people or to be emotionally driven by any strong moral pressures. That has nothing to do with commitment. See, Webster’s defines commitment as: the state or an instance of being obligated or emotionally impelled (and impelled only means: to drive forward as if by the exertion of strong moral pressure). They’re completely different things.
Still, I apparently need a girlfriend. I did not know this until my friends told me, repeatedly. They tell me I need someone who will comfort me, be there for me, care about me, and generally bring happiness to my life. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what they said, and as it turns out my Nintendo DS (Duel Screen) already covers all those bases. So why do I need a girlfriend?
No seriously, I want you to think about it for a minute. I have done a lot of thinking about it myself, and for me that much thought is a rare occurrence. So I have come up with a lengthy list of why my Nintendo DS is better than a girlfriend. You can make all the wisecracks you want, but I’m sure after reading this, you just might agree with me.
To buy a new game for the Nintendo DS, you simple go into a game store, pick out what you want, and pay for it: typically $35. To take a girl you just met out on a date, the typical dinner and a movie will cost you $45-$75 depending on the restaurant and whether you spring for the large tub of popcorn and drinks at the theater. Oh, and I’m pretty sure the video game will last a lot longer too.
The Nintendo DS has a built in microphone that is used in some of the games. So I know for a fact that it can hear me. With women, sometimes I wonder if they have the ability to hear at all. It’s like they never pay attention when I try to say something. Of course, I never have anything important to say, but that’s beside the point.
If you’re in the mood for a shooter, you throw Metroid Prime: Hunters into your DS. If later you change your mind and get in the mood for a puzzle game, you throw in Meteos or Brain Age. Now, if you’re dating a blonde girl and suddenly you’re in the mood for a redhead, well, try mentioning that to your girlfriend and see what happens.
Nintendo recently released the DS Lite. This Lite version is much more attractive and is easier to carry around than the original DS. Hmm… now if only I could find a girl who is more attractive and has less baggage.
The DS has a volume control on it. Yet, despite modern breakthroughs in medicine, technology, and psychiatry, mankind has yet to invent a volume control for women. In this respect, we’re no better off than the caveman was.
My DS has never asked me to change the channel so it can watch Oprah. Enough said.
If I’m in the mood for role-playing I can just snap a cartridge in to the DS and get started. The game system doesn’t judge me. Most women seem to get disgusted when I bring up the idea of role-playing. I mean, what’s so wrong about the Princess Leia slave girl outfit?
My DS is portable and can be carried around to hockey games, monster truck rallies, and seedy dive bars. Find me a girl who is willing to accompany me to all of those places, and I just might have a reason to put the video games down.
The DS is WiFi ready right out of the box. You can connect at any WiFi hotspot and challenge anyone around the globe with up to 16 players competing. It’s a great multiplayer system. When was the last time your girlfriend allowed you to play around with someone else?
When your DS has problems (like if you drop it down seven flights of stairs then keep it submerged in Kool-aid for over ten minutes) then you can always go out and purchase a new one for only $130. If your girlfriend has problems, then suddenly you have problems. You have to listen and be a part of every little insignificant bit of it. And no amount of money or therapy will make it go away.
Nintendo’s official DS slogan is “Touching is Good.” When was the last time a girl said that to you?
So I think you can see that I’m perfectly happy with my DS. It has brought so much joy in my life that I could not imagine a world without it. I think you can also see why I don’t have a girlfriend. After reading the above, who would want to go out with me? If you know of any girls that would, please send them my way.
Oh, and do yourself a favor, the next time your girlfriend hits “that time of the month,” lock yourself in a closet, down in the basement, in your neighbors house with a Nintendo DS. Trust me the DS will never have wild and crazy mood swings no matter what the lunar cycle is. Life with a DS is so much less complicated.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
