DIPA 

DIPA

I have had the best (DIPA) Imperial India Pale Ale ever. 102 IBU 

AVERY BREWING CO

The Maharaja 



If I were rich, I would pre bathe and post bathe in this DIPA with nothing but smiles in a long, long swimming session in a Olympic sized pool of The Maharaja until, of course, I would drink it all.



My grandma left town with two of my aunts and I volunteered last night to check on her new cat, Mel. Before I cracked (The Skye) open a Big Sky Brewing Co. Camp Robber, a seasonal coffee porter, I could not find my awesome bottle opener. Enjoying good beers helps me to write ridiculous sentences. So, the bottle opener is essential. It’s a decently good beer. It has a nice balance of coffee and porterness. Meeting Mel for the first time, he was shy at first and seemed like an active cat, but the first thing I noticed was his fur. I’ve seen plenty of calico cats as I do attend cat watching with my two friends every Sunday after church with big hats, sunscreen noses and binoculars. Occasionally we see cats attacking and eating birds. We call those episodes, “Jeff’s made-up story out of his ass”. I don’t have any friends.

This cat is mostly white with enormous patches of like grey and black striped cat and red/orange with tan spots cat. Next time, I’ll snap a pic. I was too busy enjoying an Arcadia Ales Hop Rocket and getting the cat water and food. Very hopolicious beer by the way. 



WordPress likes to erase pics I’ve uploaded. Or am I that idiot who screws up his pic uploads and uploads his post and then because his MacBook is dead and his iPhone space is limited he deletes “finished” pics. 

Crack The Skye is a 2009 Mastodon album. I already consider it a classic.



I very much dislike Walmart. I rarely step foot into that voyage of annoyance. My reasoning for abusing myself through a visit was that I needed parchment paper and these cheap energy shots, B12 made by Stacker 2, that I’ve seen there once and always an empty fucking shelf since. They are less than a dollar and better than 5-Hour Energy.

Customers at Walmart seem to be out to get me. Or maybe it’s Walmart. Probably the combination that perseveres toward driving me towards suicide. Why are aisles congregated talk zones, mostly end-aisles taking up two paths? Why do you have to defensively block an entire aisle while slowly determining if you need to further down the aisle? Why isn’t there painted center lines for the lawlessness of cart traffic? 

Usually when I go to Walmart, I always try and disguise myself with shades on and antisocial myself with my earbuds and tunes. I walk fast and I do not excuse myself. 

I should have worn my heart rate monitor to document my Walmart suffer score. 



I took the day off from cycling. My legs are sore from the 35 km ride and the FatBike ride I took over the weekend. I hope to ride after work today. 

Also at Walmart, I picked up some cheese, rigatoni, jumbo russet potatoes and garlic powder. I plan on making a unique pasta today after work. It involves Brussels sprouts. 

A newly discovered liked food in my palate arsenal. I only like them when I make them. This was the dish I made on thanksgiving that was ontrial with my jury of tastebuds.



Cauliflower is also in that category. And I plan to include cauliflower in the pasta. Let’s hope I have time and motivation for both a ride and a little cheffing. 



Try either one of the DIPAs that I mentioned and go for a bike ride.