I still couldn't kill the keg last night. Apparently, I never even got close. As I write this, a steady stream of unconsumed Sierra Nevada Pale Ale is draining out onto my back lawn as I prepare to return the keg. It's one of the saddest things I've ever seen. Not quite on the level of horror of, say, if I dropped a pricey bottle of Belgian beer and smashed it in my driveway, but it nonetheless seems sad.
For future reference, I think I'll have to note that my friends have dropped down to a pony keg level of drinking.
Okay, now I'm really starting to feel old and lame: I had three of my best beer drinking buddies over last night for Monday Night Football (tip for Tennessee's receivers: when Vince Young hits you in the hands, you're supposed to catch the ball) and we still couldn't kill off the keg (see previous posts)! So tonight, Portland Bill and some of his friends are coming over to help me try again. Seriously, there is still a lot of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale in that damned thing!
And it still tastes pretty good, too. Something I probably should have known years ago, but didn't: If you untap the keg when your party's over, it can stay pretty fresh for a good long while, even sitting un-iced in my garage. (Then again, why should I have known that? For all the kegs I encountered in college, I didn't have a whole lot of experience with unfinished ones.) It's not quite as carbonated as two days ago, but it's no flatter than your typical beer in a London pub.
Either I'm gonna kill this keg, or it's gonna kill me.
(And no, that's still not a picture from my party.)
(LIVE UPDATE: The keg is dead. Long live the keg. Time of death: 8:50pm)
(UPDATE #2: Oops, I was wrong. We must have been having some pressure problems. There is still a ton of beer in this keg. I feel like such a failure — albeit a drunk, happy failure.)
So after failing to live up to the legendary beer drinking days of my youth last night, I still have about a third of a keg of Sierra Nevada last night. Which is pretty cool. There is something sinfully decadent about just stepping out into my garage and filling up my mug from my personal keg.
Does beer really taste better on draft than from the bottle? I've always wondered if it's just my imagination, or for real. Even if it's bullshit, it's still just cool to have a keg in the house. I successfully convinced a few friends to skip the bars tonight and come watch Monday Night Football over here — hopefully we can kill it off tonight.
So Portland Bill came to town with his family, wanting to reunite with all their old Austin friends. And when I told him that their day of arrival was also M'Lady's birthday, the light bulb went off over his head: "Hey, if I paid for a keg, do you think we could throw your wife a birthday party that all my friends could come to?" Bill's brilliant like that.
A keg. Seriously, people. We're not in college anymore. But nonetheless, I bought a keg of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. No, we didn't kill it. We're too old and lame for that. I mean, c'mon — we have to get up at 6am to get our kids off to school and get to work, as do half of our friends. But we tried — Lance, Bobnoxious, and Nosregref brought over their NXNW Growlers and filled them up to take some beer back home. I confiscated the bottles of people who brought over six-packs of their own – there would be no beer drunk at this party unless it came out of the keg, by god! Nonetheless, I still have beer waiting to be drunk, and everyone has gone home. Portland Bill is bringing the family back over tomorrow night to see if we can knock off a bit more, but it feels like there is still quite a lot of beer left in there.
Amazing discovery: While I was looking up Spec's keg prices, I discovered that you can buy a full-size keg of Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Ale. If you aren't familiar, that's an ungodly tasty 9.6% barleywine that works better than Ambien for inducing sleep. I asked the beer guy at Spec's, "Holy shit, you can really get a keg of Bigfoot?!?" He replied, "Yes, and you and everyone at your party will be in horrible pain the next day." It'll set you back about $210, or about $230 after tax.
Oh, and no: That picture is not from our party. But I do have picture of me somewhere from many, many years ago doing stupid shit like that.
