Mickey's Malt Liquor- Friday, October 2nd (Part 2)

Ok, I lied a teeeeny bit. Next up is....Mickey's "Fine" Malt Liquor. I only really got this thing for two reasons. One, it's a malt liquor and I've really got a thing going for trying this cheap crap. Second, I got it because of an off-hand quote I came up with that fit it so well it made me and my friend (who first got me onto the malt liquor track) to put it in the cart. I believe I said that it looked like "an angry hand grenade of failure". Below is proof:



Look at it. It's a pineapple grenade of hobo rage and piss-poor quality alcohol. I want to lob it into a crowd of bums and watch them explode. Not due to being packed with trinitrogentoluene but with pure, unfettered drunken jealousy and greed. It's....beautiful.

As for taste, less than beautiful. A little interesting in the fact that it tastes like apples, honey, and cheap fucking corn-based brew. But it goes damn well with some cold meatball and ricotta pizza I've got, so its all good at this point. Also smells like a road freshly paved with tar and three-day old skunk smell but once you gag past the smell it tastes alright. I think I'll buy them solely to pretend that its WWII and I'm in the trenches. The very drunk trenches. So its Germany.

Steel Reserve 211 - Friday, September 25th

Ok, I gave it a try. Seriously I did. At the request of a friend, while standing in the malt liquor section a few weeks ago at BotW, I fatefully decided on a can of Steel Reserve 211. The local malt liquor expert (he isn't, but I'm calling him that from now on) said it was pretty good.

He is such a fucking liar.

Through the goddamn teeth.

I'm sitting here trying to quaff this stuff and its painful. My stomach has attained a state of agitation closer to a cement mixer at a Mafia convention than an upset stomach. The taste of this beverage is indescribable. First off, its sickly sweet. Disturbingly so for something that's supposed to have hops in it. It also has this odd sour/bitterness that comes through in the finish. Definitely not related to hops but it could be related to a bad type of yeast. Or complete and utter beverage failure. The odor coming out of this can is amazing too. Let me describe the odor to you.

Picture NYC on a warm, stagnant August day. The sun beats down on your grimy skin, baking the filth of the streets onto your pasty, gaunt frame. You gather your torn windbreaker and cover yourself, trying in vain to keep the sun from scorching your skin. It makes it difficult to inject the needle. You amble and stagger down the street, praying that your thin waist doesn't slip through the torn relic you once called sweatpants. You are a hobo. And you are hungry. You pry about the trash cans down each street, hoping for tasty morsels to sate your hunger. After rambling about Nixon for what seems like hours to the clown that follows you around every Tuesday, you finally come upon a loaded wastebin. A greengrocer has thrown out every piece of fruit that is rotted so badly it cannot be used in any shape or form. Even the rats won't touch this refuse. You pick out an withered old cowboy-boot of an apple, an incredibly squishy pear coated in a fuzz that resembles the outside of a Wilson tennis ball, and a banana coated in what looks to be the saurkraut from an old hot dog. You stow this delicious feast in your windbreaker and shuffle back to your newspaper nest. As you snuggle in to enjoy your treat, a man comes by, picks you up, and crams you into a silver can that's called Steel Reserve.

I had to open a goddamn window.

There are not a lot of things I won't finish. I'm a fat kid. And a thirsty kid. After I finish typing this up, I am going to dump this down the drain. Normally, I will offer something small to Davey Jones by pouring it down the sink, but this I wouldn't wish on even my worst enemy. It is godawful.

Ugh, I just took another sip. It tastes like banana bread in a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Fuck this shit. I think I have to burn off my taste buds after this shit.

Edit: While waiting for the picture to load, I drainpoured it. It poured the color of my khaki shorts. Buy this only if you're severely masochistic or the hobo mentioned above.

For science! - Olde English "800"

Hey.

Remember that time I said this was for science?



Here's proof that I wasn't lying.

Yeah, that's a 40oz. bottle of Olde English 800. It's almost a $1.89 thing of beauty. Straw colored and glinting golden, coated in a fine mist of sweat as it comes ice cold from my freezer. If that's not awesomely subliminal and Freudian advertising, only God knows what is. But let's preface this a bit, shall we?

Last Friday started like any other Friday. Two hours of intensive engineering class then the absolute bliss that is a warm, sunny Friday afternoon off. A boy's mind wanders to cold beer, unfiltered Lucky Strikes, and the breeze flowing through his hair. I had two of the three, so my friends and I decided to stop at Beers of the World. BotW is a haven of all things brewed. It has row after row of craft beers from all over the world. Unfortunately and rather ironically, I found myself standing with my friends in the malt liquor aisle. Oh malt liquor. The youthful beverage of the college student and unemployed, its pretty much 6% ABV hobo piss. But its $1.89 for 40 oz (if you go pinky's up and get the expensive kind). I got this and a can of Steel Reserve. Seriously, that shit is so metal. A slate gray can and about 10% ABV, it just screams manliness. Oh, and liver failure.

So of course I had to try this shit. Any college student worth his salt has tried it. I'd never had it and damn it, I want to be worth my salt. So I bought an OE800 and a Steel Reserve. Came home, threw that behemoth of a malted beverage titan in the freezer to cool and promptly fell asleep. Weak, I know.

When I woke up, I had the savage hunger of a bear coming out of hibernation. And, what a coincidence! The only edible thing in my fridge was a box of baking soda and that 40. Oh boy, breakfast of champions. I sat down at 2am to quaff some and check my email. And am I glad that it was ice cold. It was actually pretty good. Granted, it wasn't Sammy Smith's Oatmeal Stout, but it wasn't the hobo piss I was assuming. I didn't bother pouring it into a glass but rather drank it straight from the bottle. It had this odd cat-urine like smell to begin with but the flavor was softly corn-like and Wonderbread. It was undercarbonated, probably to facilitate pouring it down your throat like industrial coolant into an overheating engine. It wasn't, honestly, terrible. Would I buy it again? Probably not. I proceeded to drink about a quarter of it and, since I hadn't eaten all day, got kinda fucked up. I'm not sure if it was the Southern Proof (which puts it at a whopping 10%) or the Northeastern proof (which is about 5.9%) but I DO know it was "Fuck me up"% ABV. I went back to bed after draining a quarter of it and the rest is sitting in my fridge, just waiting for me to coup de grace it when its least expecting it. But I'm holding out for that bastard of a Steel Reserve. He and I have to tango.