The Fine Art of Beer Taunting

I work every third Monday. So, on occasion, I will visit a brew pub or restaurant without Satan, my trusty sidekick, my kemo sabe, my wingman.

At 3 pm, or thereabouts, I’ll head over to Fredericksburg Brewing Company for a couple or three pints. Once in a while, four pints. I will be so happy to have a cold, craft beer in front of me that I will use my POS iPhone (the one that won’t sync because it things everything in iTunes is a corrupt file) to snap a photo and send to Satan to let him know I am thinking about him.

For some reason, Satan takes offense at this! He uses language so foul, that if his mother were alive, she would wash his mouth out with soap. Then he suggests that our shared ancestors are canines! All of this vitriol because I was enjoying a good beer while he was at work.

Apparently, he also expressed his displeasure at my Monday’s off with his fellow Basin Brewers. So when I include them in my discoveries, they, too resort to profanity and hinting that I am acting like a part of male anatomy! They accuse me of taunting them!

I don’t taunt them.

Satan taunts them.

On our last trip to NHC last year, when we stopped at Blind Tiger Brewery and Restaurant, Satan told me to snap a photo of him holding a pint in one hand, and extending the middle finger of the other, in what I assumed to be the official salute of the Basin Brewers—he had me email it to him so he could sent it to the other members.

And when we arrived in our Minneapolis hotel room after registering for the conference, he had me photograph him holding the conference beers while proudly wearing what my father calls a “Shit Eating Grin.” Once more, he had me mail it to him so he could send it to his “friends” back home.

On our recent trip to Jester King Brewery, was it me who posed like Captain Morgan on their brew deck? No. It was Satan.

Satan has tried to “taunt” me, but since he doesn’t have a camera phone, he can muster a weak, “I’m having a Woodchuck Cider at Buffalo Wild Wings” every so often.

Meh.

Only Tom, one of the Basin Brewers, has successfully “taunted” me when he took photos of the cool beers he was drinking at the Dancing Bear Pub, in Waco. You see, Tom understands the rules of taunting.

The Rules of Taunting

1. Pics or it didn’t happen. What’s the point of telling me how good a beer looks or how nice the bar is if there is no photo? Don’t have a camera? Then, keep it to yourself.
2. It must be something I can’t get or done when others can’t or where the others aren’t. Don’t send pictures of you enjoying a Coors Light while watching Sunday football at home. Send me the photo of the cider at BFWW. Preferably with the game on the big screen slightly out of focus in the background. If it’s 10 am and your watching the World Cup at Freetail, taunt away! I will even accept that photo of a Coors Light if it’s at the stadium while a game or concert is in progress.
3. Be subtle. A simple “Guess where I am” is sufficient. You don’t have to add “I’m at a cool bar and you’re not!” It’s implied. Even a childish “Neener, neener” is good.
4. Tasting notes are acceptable. Refrain from adding a snarky “Too bad you’re not here.”
5. Pics or it didn’t happen. It bears repeating. Someone pass out? The waiter/waitress is hot/has cool tattoos? The chick at the next table is scantily clad? Send photos. That’s why I carry a phone that can get email!

There you go. Now get out there and taunt away!