Yikes. WHAT. Yes, Scottish brewers BrewDog have brewed the strongest beer in existence at 55% ABV called The End of History. And then they put in in squirrels and stoats (whatever the hell those are). What a really great idea! It’s very surprising that MillerCoors and Budweiser didn’t pioneer this trend first by sticking kegs in deer carcasses. Or that Redbull didn’t stick a can inside a mouse, slap a sombrero on it and call it The Speedy Gonzales. What the hell big beverage manufacturers, I’M DOING YOUR WORK FOR YOU.

But again, I say: WHAT. I mean sure, by all means brew stronger and stronger beers (as long as they taste good). I encourage beverage makers to push the limits of what’s possible, everyone wins. But when you do that, and only make 12 of them and THEN sell it for £500-£700 (which I think is like $5000 American) do you really need the added gimmick of sticking it inside an animal? It’s not that I care about killing the animals, it’s just…who is your target market, guys? Judging from your almost unwatchable promotional video, I’d guess rich dudes with severe emotional and social problems.

The End of History from BrewDog on Vimeo.

No offense to the BrewDog guys, I’m sure you make great beer, I’m just mystified by your strategy. That said, I’m writing about it so maybe your plan is working. Doh!

HOWEVER, this has given me an idea for a great new game, beverages in dead animals! Here’s mine:

• 5 Hour Energy Shot inside a hummingbird
• Can of V8 inside a turnip (for the vegetarians, UGH)
• Bottle of Hypnotiq inside a chinchilla
• Bakon Vodka bottle inside a piglet (but that one’s a no-brainer)
• Bottle of Cristal inside a peacock (full plumage on display, obvs)
• Johnnie Walker Blue inside a white tiger cub (only to make the size match)
• Galliano bottle in a giraffe (because TALL)
• Champagne bottle in a goose neck, plate on back for foie gras. Elegant!

“Sorry little buddy, but you’re just the right size!”

That’s all I’ve got. Add yours in the comments!

via :: Eater

So apparently a phenomenon called “Icing” is sweeping the nation and I’m only hearing about it now. What is it, you ask? Basically, it’s making someone chug a Smirnoff Ice on one knee, no matter what they’re doing or where they are. They can either be handed the Ice, or tricked into discovering it by hiding it somewhere like under their backpack or in a pile of popped-collar Hollister polos. The bigger, warmer, and nastier the flavor the better. If you happen to be carrying an Ice when someone Ices you, you can Ice Block, and the Icer has to drink BOTH Ices.

As the title of this post implies, the people who are doing this are mostly Frat Bros, to which you should be saying “Ah-no-duh”. This is exactly the kind of thing Bros (yeah, I’m going to capitalize it) would come up with. You can head over to Bros Icing Bros to witness dozens of Bros being Iced on camera.

“This game is the best! Look how much fun I’m having!”

But the surprising thing is how Icing is spreading like wildfire to other non-Bro sections of the population. An Icing was confirmed at Goldman-Sachs! People are Fed-Exing Ices to co-workers! LADIES are getting Iced! Even Coolio gets Iced! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?!

“I approve of this game, yo”

Having never been Iced, I don’t really know, but maybe it’s a super-fun thing to do? It doesn’t sound super-fun to do. I have a hard time finding the fun in being forced to chug a room-temp 24oz Strawberry Acai Smirnoff Ice in the bathroom because someone planted one in the shower for me to drink first thing in the morning. Hilarious prank, Bro. Totally Bro-tastic. Maybe I’ll prank you back by putting roofies in your Keystone Ice when you aren’t looking. Hysterical, right Bro?

Anyone out there playing this game? Is it actually fun? Let us know in the comments.

via :: The Awl

Recently I had the opportunity to travel to Asheville, North Carolina for a weekend-long bachelor party with twelve other dudes. While most of the events of the weekend are sacrosanct and bound by the laws of manhood to remain untold (“What happens in the clichéd phrase STAYS in the clichéd phrase” etc.), I feel pretty safe in divulging the fairly harmless details of the five hours or so we spent in downtown Asheville’s bars on Saturday. Short summary: they’re great!

Before getting to the bars and the drinking, I will say this: every bar we went to played really great music the entire time. EVERY. ONE. I should mention that except me, all of the other guys in the group are musicians or work in the music industry in some way. They know their stuff, and it goes without saying that they’re quite the discerning bunch. Everywhere we went, all of us commented on how great the music in the bars was. So…good work Asheville! Our ears didn’t barf once!

The first place we ended up was the Bier Garden, because it was near where we parked and it had lots of beers and ah-no-duh. They have an extensive list of bottled beers available (both local and global) and a great selection of mostly local beers on draft. They have a really great pricing structure for their draft beers: $4 for a pint, $7 for a liter, and $12 for a pitcher. Across the board, no matter the beer. Those are incredibly fair prices for craft beers, especially given the selection. I ended up trying a Catawba Valley Hyper Monkey Java Stout. Rich coffee aromas, medium-bodied, and incredibly drinkable. I needed a little pep in my step anyway, and this was just the beer for it. Everyone got some great beers and food and we stayed there until the end of the Kentucky Derby. We asked our waitress* for suggestions for our next stop, and she recommended the Thirsty Monk a few blocks away.

Oh, there’s the Thirsty Monk, right behind that OH MY LORD WHAT IS HAPPENING HELP MY EYYYEEEES

When we walked into the Thirsty Monk, it seemed like a pretty cool place. Hip people, cool music, artsy stuff on the walls. But then we spied a sign in the back of the bar saying “Belgian Beer Bar and Restrooms Downstairs”. Restrooms!?! We’d hit the jackpot! Haaahaaaaa. Our interest piqued, we stumbled down the narrow stairs to the Belgian basement bar. YES. This place was for us: dark hardwood floors, big leather couches, and a long stretch of bar to saddle up to for a while (plus, RESTROOMS!). We grabbed some barstools and met our venerable barkeep Opus, a knowledgeable man when it comes to the dark art of Belgian beer brewing. I started off with a Delirium Tremens, a well-known Belgian that I was already familiar with and isn’t terribly complex or heavy, but was perfect for this budding spring day.  We asked Opus about the various Belgian and Belgian-style beers on the menu, and he answered with aplomb. I tried another beer, amazingly complex , Birrifico Le Baladin Al-lksir, an Italian-made Belgian Strong Pale Ale, which pretty much blew my mind. CRAZY complex, with a barely noticeable 10% ABV. Just all over the place, floral flavors, vanilla, sandalwood, peppercorn…this beer just kept going and going.

Eventually, our tastes desired something stronger. Namely, SHOTS. We asked Opus for a quality cocktail establishment, and he hipped us to a tucked away cocktail joint called The Vault on Rankin. Since it’s law to always do what a man named Opus tells you, we went (NC penal code 244.3 subsection D).

Opus did not steer us wrong. The Vault was a sophisticated yet cool-as-hell joint where we ended up spending the rest of the evening. Yes, we were the jerks who ordered 13 Jager bombs like we just turned 21. I’m not proud of it, but someone else paid so whatever, I’m not turning down a free Jager bomb. After that, we lounged at the bar and the outside patio area imbibing at leisure. After surveying the booze selection and watching bartender Ally (Maybe Allie? Like I’m really going to ask a cute bartender how to spell her name for the purpose of this blooorrrg**) mix a few drinks, I decided to trust her with a bartender’s choice, something with Hendrick’s gin. She did not disappoint.

Ally’s drink with Hendrick’s gin, St. Germain, muddled cucumber and some other stuff I didn’t pay attention to. Minus a few sips.

I knew I was in the right place when she said “Well Hendrick’s would be the bartender’s choice, nice!”. She also made a killer mint julep with Basil Hayden bourbon (it was Derby Weekend afterall) that brought more than one mouth to its knees (?). Despite the fact that one inebriated member of the group continually harassed Ally and wouldn’t STFU, we had a great time there, with a solid selection of local brews to compliment the booze. As dusk approached, we decided to retreat to our mountain hideaway to continue to eat the bejeezus out of 5+ pounds of AMAZING local barbecue and drink more than I care to quantify. But I can’t talk about that, as is our Mancode. Sorry!

So if you ever find yourself in Asheville, or just want to get away for a few days to the mountains, don’t worry. There are plenty of places to drink in Asheville, and even the most remote grocery stores have beer selections that rival (or maybe top?) those of Atlanta liquor stores. I should also note that every bartender or wait staff we talked to knew a LOT about the local bar scene and breweries, where they were, and what to recommend to people unfamiliar with the area. No “locals only” attitude, but a genuine pride in their hometown and desire to share it with outsiders. Yet another compliment to Asheville on knowing who you are as a city and caring enough to tell tourists where the good stuff can be found. Thanks for a great weekend Asheville, I can’t wait to go back!

*It should be noted that EVERY waitress at the Bier Garden was pretty hot. It seemed like a shift change was happening while we were there, and each server seemed hotter than the last. Just a protip if you ever decide to go there.

**Though I did give her my card. BOO-YAH!

So I don’t know how this isn’t bigger news, but apparently during the everything-fest of SXSW, legend Bill Murray was seen tending bar at Shangri-La. Seems like he was just drinking there at first, and somehow magically ended up behind the bar, serving up shots of tequila to the clamoring crowds. The man can’t help being amazing.

via :: The Q

Hey gang. I’ve been a lousy blogger, I know. But I couldn’t let a drinking holiday like St. Patrick’s day go by without posting something. What am I, a monster?

So you may have heard of a new kind of shot that’s going around called the Pickleback. Simply put, it’s a shot of whiskey (typically Jamesons) followed by a shot of pickle juice/brine/whatever is in the jar. And yes, you’re right, that sounds downright horrible.

Who came up with this strange combo? Nobody knows the true origins, but it’s being backed by actual real bartenders and cocktail enthusiasts, not bored frat guys just mixing together whatever is leftover in their fridge. I’ve never tried one myself, because 1) I hate pickles in the first place, and 2) I don’t hate myself. But APPARENTLY this bizarre fusion of booze and brine actually works, and it’s starting to sweep the nation.  So hey, it’s green, and St. Patty’s, and Erin Go Blarrrffff! This guy knows what I’m talking about.