The Beer Aisle is Like a Junior High School Dance

I recently wrote about great beer with awful labels for Today.com, and the whole topic of “shelf presence” got me to thinking how susceptible I am to primal urges when I’m shopping for beer.  I see a pretty face and go all weak at the knees.

It’s like when I was a kid at a seventh grade dance, deciding which girl I wanted to approach (not to dance with mind you – ARE YOU KIDDING? -  just to dazzle her with my prepubescent wit).  Sure, Allison from social studies is cute and she seems like a really smart and funny girl, but Tonya is WEARING MAKE UP! She might be vapid and nasty, but she’s looks like a real LIVE WOMAN!!!  Must…chat…up…Tonya…

And that’s exactly how I now roll in the beer aisle.  I walk in with good intentions, promising myself that I’m going to do the right thing and not load up on strong ales and stouts, and then my pea brains is invariably pulled off mission by a pretty label or the promise of a lusty dark beer.  I know that Jolly Pumpkin Bam Bière is an artfully crafted farmhouse ale, but Schlafly Reserve Imperial Stout is MAKING EYES AT ME!  Must…buy…barrel-aged…stouts…

I’d like to say I resist these urges and only get the things that my logical self thinks will help broaden my horizons and better inform my beer drinking palate, but that’s usually not the case.  Sometimes I buy both the logical stuff and the primally delicious stuff, and then one gets popped open on the weekend and the other slowly makes its way to the back of the fridge with all the other Allisons.

I know she’s a nice girl, but Tonya makes my belly quiver.

Apparently some things never change.

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