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I don’t care for the taste of beer. I have tried a few different brews, and some were not that bad, but ultimately I’m more of a hard liquor drinker. Even wine coolers or wine I prefer over beer. I know many people that like beer, but not many are my friends. All of my friends dislike beer.
By cobalt tinor URL on 05.07.2013
I took another sip of the warm, orange liquid and forced a smile as I pretended to look refreshed. On the inside, I was quite the opposite- a gurgling bumble of emotions. I had dranken too much and I could tell as soon as I felt my face becoming hot.
By Lilac Hello URL on 05.07.2013
Don’t like the taste. Don’t like the name. Don’t like the way it feels. Hopefully I’ll never drink it again. I’m a worse person when I’m drinking. Beer just gives me an excuse to make bad decisions. There’s nothing healthy about alcohol.
By Natalie URL on 05.07.2013
The rolling hills and the blueberries lead the bear to his hideout. There he found a fresh pond to fish at. He was unsettled when he heard another bear come up behind him.
By Gina on 05.07.2013
Beer was the first alcoholic drink that I ever indulged in. At two years old I sat on my Mothers knee and enjoyed a swig or two. Twenty, thirty, forty years later I was drinking across from her drinking considerably more than a swig.
By Tracey URL on 05.07.2013
July fourth, two years ago. Pink inner tube: too small, too girly. Hours have never gone by so fast as they did while we were floating down that river… Not that we were in a hurry. The five of us must have sucked down a 30 rack of PBR before we made it to the celebration on the green. Cheap, lukewarm beer has never tasted so perfect- I swear, I could have lived off it that summer.
By Ruby on 05.07.2013
I was smashed, from drinking one too many beers. My buddies and I were out on the night having the time of our lives. I made out with a few hotties, or what I believe to have been hotties. I was so drunk there’s no telling how hot they actually were or are, probably not even my type.
By Gilltyascharged on 05.07.2013
Beer is something I will never drink. I’ve tried, but I can never drink it like my family.
I feel like an outcast with them. I never seem to fit in anywhere.
I feel lost.
I feel worried.
I don’t know where to go.
Can you help?
Can you lead me?
No. You will not.
You don’t understand.
You can’t imagine.
My life is but a mystery.
By Amarie URL on 05.07.2013
You are so mysterious,
But I wish I could read you like a book.
Trust me –
I quite enjoy mystery novels.
By Abbey URL on 05.07.2013
There is truth in Beer!” was the message written on the cushion attached to my boss’ chair. I have never taken him seriously ever since seeing that!
By tonykeyesjapan URL on 05.07.2013
Later Silas Jamison would wonder what he was doing in a bar in the middle of the night, but at the moment all he could think about was the fact that this particular type of beer was very bitter, and very, very good. So he drank it. He drank slowly, then he hurried with the drinking, and by the end of the night– at dawn– Silas Jamison had completed his drinking and was making his home slowly. Not singing, for Silas Jamison could not be imagined to sing, but walking, slowly, thoughtfully, and with great deliberation.
By Maria URL on 05.07.2013
I don’t think I’ll ever even taste beer. Oh hellllll nnnooooo. I’m already involved in other drugs lol. Beer seems like something to just ruin your liver and make you piss a lot. Why do people think it’s so fun anyways? Is this even creative? Is this site legit? Wtf is going on. I’ll stop then it tells me to I guess. I love you all ☮☮☮☮☮
By Nicky on 05.07.2013
hahahahahaha, that one got me!
Sweety, darling Lucy dear
you are the bubbles in my beer
your sexy strut, your jaunty hat
unlike my beer you’re never flat
I’d never, ever toss you out
but please don’t touch my pint of stout!
By Miss Ann Thrope URL on 05.07.2013
We met at Stubbies. The “folk art” on the walls was bad. SHelves with fake plants, and a wall of t-shirts. WHat was good was the beer selection; that’s why we were there. You had to have a drink after a bike ride.
By cadypie URL on 05.07.2013
Wheat. Brown. Beer is like the honey of alcohol. So sweet, it’s bitter. It takes a “Real man” to enjoy beer. I guess I’m a real man. Beer is my serenity. My passion. My sanctity. Beer. Is. Everything.
By Avery on 05.07.2013
is so good. it tastes like bread, my friend, i guess, Jesse said that if he knew beer tasted like bread, he would be an alcoholic, he loves bread. I like budlight, but keystone is fucking gross and too bubbly for me
By Brittany Pereira on 05.07.2013
I could use another. Mine is without. Do I have to work mañana? Yes? Not ’till late. I suppose since I wrote “mañana” I should have a Corona. Did you know that means crown is spanish? Oh, to wear the crown and be king. But I am a king and so are you. “Crack” another bites the dust. It isn’t a crown, but it sure goes well with popcorn. Salty popcorn. I prefer pizza but am without. My beer was without and now I find myself without. Pizza, that is. No worries. I had a nice date and dinner. Perhaps a nice dinner whilst on a date. I have a six week old who joined us. My date was my wife. I had two local I.P.A.’s. They were light. The duck was heavy as are my eyes now. One more and nighty night.
By Colin Armstrong on 05.07.2013
beer. bud light. dad. gross. accidentally drank some. friends. sometimes. not sentences. health risks. depressant. alcohol. white is yellow.
By Yo on 05.07.2013
A simple swig is all it takes to put me off the stuff for good. Bitter, a taste I can hardly describe, causes my face to contort and my nose to wrinkle. Swallowing does nothing to end the disgust. The taste lingers and I have nothing to wrinse it from my mouth.
By Darion URL on 05.07.2013
They all sat around the fire drinking, smoking, and singing along to the sound of the guitar. It was their senior year, and it was coming to a close. When the fire finally burned low and there was a soft glow on the ring of students, someone began to play “Laughed Until We Cried”. The moment was so tender and solemn; no one sang with him. It made the moment more bittersweet than anything the group had experienced in their four years together. They would no longer be “the group”. Some of them were staying in Georgia for college, but most of them were going away. This was the beginning of their last summer together. Everyone cried that night, and no one ever brings up the memories of the fire. They all remember that night, though, and they all cherish it in their hearts. It was the beginning of an end even as it marked a different beginning.
By Sarah URL on 05.07.2013
Our bodies are made of silver and our eyes bleed molten gold
To what demons have you spoke to
Which ones have stole your soul
By T. on 05.07.2013
My step dad drank. My parents, my sister and I developed coping mechanisms. then my parents said it wasn’t a problem. So what do we do with all of these coping mechanisms?
By Julie on 05.07.2013
I went to a bar to meet this guy I met online. We had a beer, and some Margerita’s he was cute, tall and had my attentiion. I haven’t heard from him since, but he gave me hope that good one’s are still out there!
By Shelly Ware on 05.07.2013
the taste of the thing i absolutely loathe.
i hate it.
i hate the taste.
i hate the feeling.
i hate everything about it.
i hate it.
it makes me hate myself.
it makes me do things that i hate.
it’s taste of the thing i absolutely loathe
By Abby on 05.07.2013
Beer is for the foolish, the lost, the hurting.
Though I’m under-aged,
I’ve never tried beer.
But my mother hates it.
By Juliet URL on 05.07.2013
I could smell the beer on your breath as you slurred the words I have been dying to hear, but does it matter? Does it mean anything if you can’t say it sober. Tell me you love me. And goddamn it, mean it.
By Loren URL on 05.07.2013
Correct, I’m less than half your age, but that doesn’t even begin to mean half of anything. Now put that damn bottle down for a minute and sober up for a second, will ya? I only came in this wretched bar to remind you that this is the place is where men come to die at thirty and aren’t buried for until thirty-five years later. But you’re not in here because you’re dead, dammit. no, not you. You’re only in here because the world is out there and you love her and you know it, and you don’t want her to see you down on your knees with shit in your pants. Goddamn hear what i’m saying, know it that when you’re on your knees there’s a god inside of you kneeling with the same pair, praying with of all of it’s existence for you to believe in itself — the part of you, the heart of you that hasn’t given up on you…the same part of you that sucker-punched you in the face last night. Yeah, that’s right: that punched you in the face last night.
What, you really think you just fell on accident last night as you stumbled out of here? No. Hell no. See your broken nose for what it is: inside of you dwells a complete devine man, THE complete devine man. He’s the one who prays, he’s the who punched you, he’s the one who pukes. That’s another thing. Understand that when you puke, you have to see as symbolic for something, something you’re trying to get out of not just your meat-body, but out of your mind, your soul, out of your life. You’re body is trying to vomit up much more than the alcohol, if you can follow. You following me?
Contrary to what you heard all of your life– and the scapegoat you’ve probably use to rationalize your dependency — nothing in and of itself is inherently addictive. Not heroin, not morphine, not cigarettes and surly not your booze. The question is not why your addiction, but why your pain — and the answer to that question is simple yet complex: your humanity. Yes, if you didn’t have turn to something after what happened to you, and more importantly but hidden – what didn’t happen – THEN something would be amiss; I’d say you wouldn’t be quite human. Yes, your despair is vast, but do not despair: to be in despair means you must’ve loved a great deal and still love the world.
By drew URL on 05.07.2013
He took a drink of the bear next to him and attempted not to glower at the back of the man sitting with his one love. If course he would never admit to loving while sober, but he found peace in drunkenness, aside from his glowering.
By Bree URL on 05.07.2013
I remember my first taste of beer. I was seven years old. It was summer and dad was trying to teach us how to swim in the 3-foot tall pool for several weeks. My dad’s friend Billy stopped by with a beer in his hand. We sat waiting for Billy to finish his beer and go so we could get back in the pool, but dad chatted on. My siblings had gone inside, but I was waiting. I wanted to swim like them. I wasn’t going anywhere, but Billy kept trying to get me to go inside. When I told him I was waiting for him to finish his beer so dad could teach me, he suggested I help him and poured some of his beer on my head. The wretched stink of it ran down my hair. I got angry and told him not to do that. He countered with ‘beer is good for your hair.’ I was so angry. I stomped my foot, the stench dripping down my bangs, down my burning cheeks, dripping over my mouth. It tasted as bad as it smelled.
“I just want to learn how to swim,” I told him.
“I’ll teach you,” he said sweeping me up and dumping me headfirst into the pool. I felt my head hit the bottom, felt the intake of water enter my nose and mouth as I tried to hopelessly breathe in non-existent air, all the time foolishly struggling to swim in the wrong direction. There was a shiny buzzing in my ears. Suddenly I was flying through the air, a stream of water flying out from my hair and arms in slow motion. My parents were screaming, fighting with Billy. I was vomiting water. It was a very long time before I remember seeing Billy again. Dad would talk to him in the driveway while Billy sat in his car. He didn’t come into the house anymore. One day Billy moved someplace where there were pink elephants; that’s why he stopped visiting. Daddy said they came free with his beer.
By JDwrites URL on 05.07.2013
Beer, joyous beer. It makes you happy, healthy and wise. Yet, behind it all is a despicable truth: that you may need it to be all of those things. For, it seems that most believe they cannot live happily healthy or wisely without it.
By Woolington on 05.07.2013
the sun threw sparkling rivers through the glass against the smooth but heated surface of the table. sitting across from me, the man eyed my glass with nothing but unveiled suspicion, as i lifted it slowly, almost tentatively to my lips and took a sip of the refreshing liquid.
>why can’t you drink pop like any other person on a hot day<
By berenique URL on 05.07.2013
That summer was synonymous with sour beer and the ashy remains of cigarettes. It was my first summer as an adult, and I hardly knew how to handle myself.
By WearyWater URL on 05.07.2013
It makes people stupid,
say and do silly things that they would not normally do.
it makes sex with ugly people seem desirable
its bad, but good.
By Kimberly on 05.07.2013
Jed, popped open his sixtth beer of the night as he slumped back into his recliner.
By Jazmine on 05.07.2013
The adults sit around chatting, laughing, and drinking cold beers as they watch the game. My fingers drum nervously against my cell phone, and I wonder that they can’t see my secret flashing above my head in neon red letters. This is not what ‘taking care of yourself’ means. Not even close. The screen lights up with yet another response, and my heart pounds as I read it. What am I getting myself in for? Why can’t I just sit back and watch the game, cold beer in hand? Forever the addict.
By aura.rayne URL on 05.07.2013
beer on my desk, two empty bottles brown, smells like the floor of a laundry room, smells like flies stuck on things, smells like squeaky fingers. beer, hops. tastes like crap, but there’s good crap and bad.
By Fred Fingery URL on 05.07.2013
He watched his life fall to pieces. He sat around depressed and found his life meaningless. Then he got up, went to the corner store and bought a beer.
By Dart on 05.07.2013
When you have a bad day, have a beer. When you have a good day, have a beer. When you have a meh day, have a beer. Make sure it’s the light kind though if you drink like this.
By monique URL on 05.07.2013
Tipping back her beer she smiles. His warmth is bitterly sweet against the cool fall breeze. Just like old times, just the two of the drinking and talking. Laughing and smiling. Perfectly silent. They simply fit together. Everything about them. The way his hands were bigger than hers, the perfect way her head fit into the notch of his shoulder. The way they matched their breathing and their content sighs. God she missed him, she never realized until he was getting ready to leave again just how much she needed him, wanted him. Her only saving grace was that the times between his visits seemed to get shorter and shorter. He made every excuse he could to share his time with her. To lay out underneath the stars and have just one last beer before life had to take him away again.
By Caitlin URL on 05.07.2013
I wasn’t interested. But he urged me on.
“Come one, mate. Let’s go for a beer, eh?”
I looked up to Demi pleadingly, walls of worry trapping me inside rapidly.
Suddenly, I was pulled hard. A sweaty hand reached for me. I groaned and screamed. But nobody could hear. Just me.
By OneJen URL on 05.07.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.