I Am Weakness

Okay, so you remember the other day when I made a big hairy deal about how I was giving up beer and beer was the devil and, hey beer, FUCK YOU, etc.? Right... well, I really stuck to my guns. Not a drop of beer passed these supple, pouting lips and I felt healthier, wiser, less bloated and headache-y, and not as prone to taking swings at deli proprietors that disallow my purchase of ten Snickers bars because they don't want to be culpable when my heart seizes up from sugar shock... I felt good, kids! And refreshingly felony-free.

But then, as is so often the case with me, my willpower began to crumble. Slowly at first... I'd find myself taking long, lingering strolls through the grocery store beer isle... not to fill my cart with sudsy goodness, perish the thought, but just to... you know... visit some old friends, make sure everyone was doing okay.

And then, while watching TV, I'd find myself quietly weeping during Bud Light commercials. Ads for Guinness made me suicidal with grief. Watching football became a roller coaster of emotions and I was put on round-the-clock observation. I was forced to give up my belt and my shoelaces.

It was a grim scene and it only promised to get grimmer...

Finally, last night, with a mournful wail and a thunderous roar heard all the way over in New Jersey, my willpower crashed to the dirty, shameful ground. I bought beer... a six pack of Yuengling Black & Tan longnecks... and, oh weeping Jesus, they were magnificent bastards of light and mercy! So rich, so tasty... so... sexy...?



Oh baby, that's what I like. I mean, c'mon... HOW am I supposed to resist that? All pin-up gams on the bottom and a top that's nothing but malty wonderment frosty cold and right there begging to be drunk. Not a man alive can say no to the sexy, sexiness of beer. And those that can are all dead inside.

I am weakness, yes. But that's okay. For I am only human.

Next week... C-dog tries to give up Cheez-Its! People are gonna fucking die!!!