Oh, come on. Beer? Of all the words in the world, you choose beer. Beer is such a hideous word with a hideous meaning. I’m disappointed, One Word. You can do better than this.
I don’t like beer….I don’t think I do, at least. This makes me think of Audry’s party on Saturday. Would a normal person drink a beer? Have I just convinced myself that I don’t like anything or anyone? Thinking about that makes me need more than a beer….
There are two bees on my fingertips. It’s summer evening, he’s cooking steak burgers in the afternoon blue-orange light. I can smell the misty burning, I can taste the tomato sauce in it. Summer is fading from our little corner of this world.
Let’s have a drink and forget about all of our troubles, for just one night. Everything goes away with that one drink. No one has to know. Just know that since you won’t remember it in the morning, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters when you’re drunk. Beer is the answer. The feelings you hurt and the people you care about will still be there for you the morning after.
Beer, such a common thing at this point in life. Want a beer? Of course you do, you’re in your twenties. It’s what we do. Not me, though. Just alcoholic apple juice for the lame girl who can’t stomach the taste. I like drinking beer with you though. The buzz is more pure, I enjoy it more. I enjoy it with you. Wait, I think that’s just because it’s you. I enjoy things with you, even beer.
we went to the pub just a day ago
to wipe away the memories
a friend had passed in a malicious sort
and we were dun the same
to damn each other and ourselves
we drank our whiskey and we drank our beer
and no one will know what we got on here
well this weekend is going to be an absolute shit show. Rugby Ball is not the place to take people you particularly like. Perhaps it is not the place for girlfriends. There is a certain degree of fear that has been instilled in me surrounding this event.
I like to think this is bear not beer cause bears are so cute and soft if it is the stuffed animal! But ey this is beer not a bear or stuffed bear though in cartoons dont bears drink beer? haha
I handed him another beer. I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew how he got when he drank. I knew what would come next…I knew, but yet and still I gave him the beer like he asked. I guess you can say I asked for the sudden slap that came next. As well as the punches. And the kicks. I asked for the blood to run down my from my broken nose. I asked for the bruises on my arm. I asked for it all…and all because I wanted to make him happy. I hope he’s happy.
“No, I don’t want another.” I had hoped he wouldn’t ask again. I didn’t know how to escape this certain kind of prison, the one with walls that made up the social norms of today. I didn’t know how to leave, I was stuck and my head was already spinning. Where was she? She was supposed to be here and bring me home. I trusted her, and now I was stuck here on the sticky linoleum with another beer being thrust into my face.
I love beer. I may love beer a little too much lately. My pants don’t feel like they used to, and I cannot look in the mirror without thinking about having that last beer that I shouldn’t have had. Crap. I am not good at this today.
Parties that go out of control, drunk drivers. Pain on families that don’t deserve it. Innocent slain and forgotten. Taste that lingers and brings back bad memories.
“‘Nother beer, Kara? It’s free; from your newest admirer.” he said, nodding towards the guy who’d been trying to catch my eye since I’d come in, nearly two hours ago.
I grimaced and shook my head, fingers still wrapped tight around my last 40oz, which was still more than half full. “Nah. Thanks though, Jim,” I said, offering my ‘admirer’ a conciliatory salute before Jim chuckled and moved towards the other end of the bar.
I barely realised he was beside me before he was, thumping onto the stool ungracefully. “You sure I can’t tempt you?” he asked, his first words of the night, leaning towards me.
His bulk made me feel cornered, the suffocating heat of his body exaggerated by the closeness and the alcohol in my bloodstream.
“I’m not interested,” I snapped.
A foamy, delectable beverage that satisfies the most insatiable hungers. It is the hue of a golden sun on a scorching summer day, quenching the thirst of most anyone. An effluvia rises from its celebrated mug, meandering through the vicinity and filling the lungs of the passengers along for the ride in the bar or party. A massive vat of this masterfully brewed drink sits on the marble counter, anxiously anticipating the arrival of its consumer.
He watched in awe as the golden liquid flowed from the tap. Suddenly his twenty-first birthday became important as he chugged down the drink in all it’s glory. A few drinks later and he was a slobbering mess like the rest of them – a few months later and he was drinking like his dad.
you drunk up those bubbles quicker than I could protest. A blond hair rested on top the fizzy brown liquid, I don’t know if you saw it because you swallowed it anyways. the odor coming from your mouth was awful. alcohol dripped from your unkempt beard onto your t-shirt. you disgust me.
One sip, another, three– she knocked back the drink like it was nothing– and who would dare have the nerve to stop her? So she drank. She drank out loneliness, or heartbreak– sometimes for fun if she was in a good mood. But for the most part, she drank because alcohol was her friend. Alcohol could not judge her or spew mean words, alcohol would never betray her. And maybe she needed something like that in her life, a shoulder to lean on, though I suppose alcohol might not be ideal. But who cared? Certainly not she.
His head was spinning, but in a pleasant sort of way. Perhaps, if he was in his right mind at the moment, this feeling might frighten him, but he’s too preoccupied by the warming sensation slowing filling up his being. He looks at his hand, at his fingers clutching the smooth, cool bottle with its golden contents sloshing around as he staggered into a corner, attempting not to spill it. He finally found a wall to lean on, and slid down contentedly, coming to a stop finally against the baseboard of the wall that may have been in a hallway (but he wasn’t sure), looking at the wall opposite him and wishing vaguely that a certain familiar face was sat there, looking back at him.
Party. St. Patrick’s day. Jolly good time. Sickness the next morning. Hung over. Sunny day. Time for an ice cold beer. Hopefully one with lime. Tortilla chips sound good. I’d like another. Tipsy. Jolly. Stumbling. Mumbling. Hung over. Beer.
Ah, beer. The social lubricant that makes shy guys complete jerks and smart guys complete idiots. A pint or two in us? We’re all the same. All stumbling, fumbling drunkards just trying to pass for maybe-sober and walk in a straight line.
Not that I have anything against equality mind, but some nights I prefer to stay sober and watch the show.
I can’t drink this stuff. I thought as my friend offered me some beer. I am too young.
I walk away from him, not wanting to have to give in to his puppy dog eyes. He puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
The old man sat up to the bar and ordered his usual beer. When it came he smiled and blew the foam off the chilled mug before taking his first sip as if he had been doing this for years.
If there is any one thing that I could say always seems to satisfy the palate, it would be beer. Nothing has quite the potency to both refresh and calm one’s nerves. Or to put a smile on your face and a good feeling through your veins. Thank god we have beer, or who knows what we’d drink with our friends at night.
beer is the drink of gods. With it’s golden hues and foaming tops there is nothing that can beat a good beer on a bad day. A drink that unites all men together and makes women happy and proud to be females, many people owe their conception to this drink. Beer truly is the drink that means much to many has many faces and can be attributed for many stories and facts. Beer drink of the gods.
His coat reeked of it, and the stench suffocated me as he drew me near. I never wanted this. I never saw it coming. I cough and try to pull away, but he holds me tightly and his arms are strong.
I hate the smell, taste and effects of beer. It causes a lot of pain and suffering. A lot of young adults and teens die because of beer and over drinking. People die in car accidents because of drinking. A lot of people consider it an art form.
Beer is a form of liquid commonly consumed by humans, anywhere from adolescence to old men (perhaps old women, too). Like the internet, dessert, water, or pretty much anything – it can be fantastic in some doses and lethal in others.
After the first glass, I was still unsettled. After the second, I was mellowing out. After the third, I was waxing loquacious. After the fourth, I was the life of the party. After the fifth, I was more hops than man.
“Don’t drink! You’ll get drunk, go to a party, make bad decisions, and next thing you know, you’re pregnant! Or worse, dead! Drunk driving? NO! You’ll kill somebody and yourself! You can go to jail! Don’t drink! Beer pong, Quarters, Funnels, NO! Not whiskey, rum, gin, beer, wine, or vodka! Drinking alcohol will kill you, so don’t do it! Alcohol is BAD! A NO-NO! Don’t drink alcohol while pregnant or you will have a retarded and deformed baby! Alcohol is not good! IT’S BAD!!!!”
I sit in Health Class, listening to my teacher lecture and rant on . . . and on . . . and on . . . It doesn’t matter, though, because everyone is going to do it anyways.
He grabbed the beverage from her. “Thanks.” But if you looked closely enough, you’d see that he was averting his glance from hers, purposely so their eyes wouldn’t meet. He knew that she was giving him a beer, and she knew that he would discard it as soon as he walked away. Neither knew that the other knew, so, eyes down, they carried on with their lives, pretending nothing had ever happened between them. And it hadn’t. At least, not yet.
Okay, I’m sorry,but I only had a minute to write this. (Yeah, it did take like 3, but that’s not the point.)The point is this makes no sense whatsoever, sorry! Haha :)
The beer sloshed out of the cup I was holding as I walked towards the car. Parties were stupid, all we ever did was get drunk and high. But that was the point, right? We just wanted to forget all about life, and that was the best way to do it. I sipped at my drink, making a face as it ran down my throat. I would stop someday.
The amber colored bubbly substance was everywhere. The strong blonde women carried mugs and mugs at a time. The smell was overpowering as it leapt out of the glasses and stained my shirt and my skin. I love Oktoberfest.
drunk
what am i doing
regret, but i know nothing
the sweat collecting around the glass
theres a woman by herself, but she is not lonely. She is able to see beyond the bar onto tomorrow. It’ll be happier then
I had beer as my blood, those days after you left me. All I inhaled, exhaled was beer. All that circulated around my body was beer. After a while, the beer was all gone. And I was broke. So all that there was left in my body was you.
Oh, come on. Beer? Of all the words in the world, you choose beer. Beer is such a hideous word with a hideous meaning. I’m disappointed, One Word. You can do better than this.
I don’t like beer….I don’t think I do, at least. This makes me think of Audry’s party on Saturday. Would a normal person drink a beer? Have I just convinced myself that I don’t like anything or anyone? Thinking about that makes me need more than a beer….
There are two bees on my fingertips. It’s summer evening, he’s cooking steak burgers in the afternoon blue-orange light. I can smell the misty burning, I can taste the tomato sauce in it. Summer is fading from our little corner of this world.
Let’s have a drink and forget about all of our troubles, for just one night. Everything goes away with that one drink. No one has to know. Just know that since you won’t remember it in the morning, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters when you’re drunk. Beer is the answer. The feelings you hurt and the people you care about will still be there for you the morning after.
Beer, such a common thing at this point in life. Want a beer? Of course you do, you’re in your twenties. It’s what we do. Not me, though. Just alcoholic apple juice for the lame girl who can’t stomach the taste. I like drinking beer with you though. The buzz is more pure, I enjoy it more. I enjoy it with you. Wait, I think that’s just because it’s you. I enjoy things with you, even beer.
we went to the pub just a day ago
to wipe away the memories
a friend had passed in a malicious sort
and we were dun the same
to damn each other and ourselves
we drank our whiskey and we drank our beer
and no one will know what we got on here
well this weekend is going to be an absolute shit show. Rugby Ball is not the place to take people you particularly like. Perhaps it is not the place for girlfriends. There is a certain degree of fear that has been instilled in me surrounding this event.
I like to think this is bear not beer cause bears are so cute and soft if it is the stuffed animal! But ey this is beer not a bear or stuffed bear though in cartoons dont bears drink beer? haha
I handed him another beer. I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew how he got when he drank. I knew what would come next…I knew, but yet and still I gave him the beer like he asked. I guess you can say I asked for the sudden slap that came next. As well as the punches. And the kicks. I asked for the blood to run down my from my broken nose. I asked for the bruises on my arm. I asked for it all…and all because I wanted to make him happy. I hope he’s happy.
“No, I don’t want another.” I had hoped he wouldn’t ask again. I didn’t know how to escape this certain kind of prison, the one with walls that made up the social norms of today. I didn’t know how to leave, I was stuck and my head was already spinning. Where was she? She was supposed to be here and bring me home. I trusted her, and now I was stuck here on the sticky linoleum with another beer being thrust into my face.
I love beer. I may love beer a little too much lately. My pants don’t feel like they used to, and I cannot look in the mirror without thinking about having that last beer that I shouldn’t have had. Crap. I am not good at this today.
Parties that go out of control, drunk drivers. Pain on families that don’t deserve it. Innocent slain and forgotten. Taste that lingers and brings back bad memories.
a bad drink that makes people very sick
Make me slave for an evening; cause me stress, fear and bleeding. Arrest my thoughts to leave me grieving, abandon soul the head is screaming.
“‘Nother beer, Kara? It’s free; from your newest admirer.” he said, nodding towards the guy who’d been trying to catch my eye since I’d come in, nearly two hours ago.
I grimaced and shook my head, fingers still wrapped tight around my last 40oz, which was still more than half full. “Nah. Thanks though, Jim,” I said, offering my ‘admirer’ a conciliatory salute before Jim chuckled and moved towards the other end of the bar.
I barely realised he was beside me before he was, thumping onto the stool ungracefully. “You sure I can’t tempt you?” he asked, his first words of the night, leaning towards me.
His bulk made me feel cornered, the suffocating heat of his body exaggerated by the closeness and the alcohol in my bloodstream.
“I’m not interested,” I snapped.
A foamy, delectable beverage that satisfies the most insatiable hungers. It is the hue of a golden sun on a scorching summer day, quenching the thirst of most anyone. An effluvia rises from its celebrated mug, meandering through the vicinity and filling the lungs of the passengers along for the ride in the bar or party. A massive vat of this masterfully brewed drink sits on the marble counter, anxiously anticipating the arrival of its consumer.
He watched in awe as the golden liquid flowed from the tap. Suddenly his twenty-first birthday became important as he chugged down the drink in all it’s glory. A few drinks later and he was a slobbering mess like the rest of them – a few months later and he was drinking like his dad.
you drunk up those bubbles quicker than I could protest. A blond hair rested on top the fizzy brown liquid, I don’t know if you saw it because you swallowed it anyways. the odor coming from your mouth was awful. alcohol dripped from your unkempt beard onto your t-shirt. you disgust me.
One sip, another, three– she knocked back the drink like it was nothing– and who would dare have the nerve to stop her? So she drank. She drank out loneliness, or heartbreak– sometimes for fun if she was in a good mood. But for the most part, she drank because alcohol was her friend. Alcohol could not judge her or spew mean words, alcohol would never betray her. And maybe she needed something like that in her life, a shoulder to lean on, though I suppose alcohol might not be ideal. But who cared? Certainly not she.
His head was spinning, but in a pleasant sort of way. Perhaps, if he was in his right mind at the moment, this feeling might frighten him, but he’s too preoccupied by the warming sensation slowing filling up his being. He looks at his hand, at his fingers clutching the smooth, cool bottle with its golden contents sloshing around as he staggered into a corner, attempting not to spill it. He finally found a wall to lean on, and slid down contentedly, coming to a stop finally against the baseboard of the wall that may have been in a hallway (but he wasn’t sure), looking at the wall opposite him and wishing vaguely that a certain familiar face was sat there, looking back at him.
Party. St. Patrick’s day. Jolly good time. Sickness the next morning. Hung over. Sunny day. Time for an ice cold beer. Hopefully one with lime. Tortilla chips sound good. I’d like another. Tipsy. Jolly. Stumbling. Mumbling. Hung over. Beer.
drink, malt, egyptians, wheat, ireland, germany, yellow, beard, sour, cold, corona, grandma, husband, brewery, pub, tavern, bar, football, quarter finals
It taste like poison but i drink it anyway
I want to be part of a buildings roman
It always leaves my mouth smelling of sour roses
Ah, beer. The social lubricant that makes shy guys complete jerks and smart guys complete idiots. A pint or two in us? We’re all the same. All stumbling, fumbling drunkards just trying to pass for maybe-sober and walk in a straight line.
Not that I have anything against equality mind, but some nights I prefer to stay sober and watch the show.
I can’t drink this stuff. I thought as my friend offered me some beer. I am too young.
I walk away from him, not wanting to have to give in to his puppy dog eyes. He puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
The old man sat up to the bar and ordered his usual beer. When it came he smiled and blew the foam off the chilled mug before taking his first sip as if he had been doing this for years.
If there is any one thing that I could say always seems to satisfy the palate, it would be beer. Nothing has quite the potency to both refresh and calm one’s nerves. Or to put a smile on your face and a good feeling through your veins. Thank god we have beer, or who knows what we’d drink with our friends at night.
beer is the drink of gods. With it’s golden hues and foaming tops there is nothing that can beat a good beer on a bad day. A drink that unites all men together and makes women happy and proud to be females, many people owe their conception to this drink. Beer truly is the drink that means much to many has many faces and can be attributed for many stories and facts. Beer drink of the gods.
His coat reeked of it, and the stench suffocated me as he drew me near. I never wanted this. I never saw it coming. I cough and try to pull away, but he holds me tightly and his arms are strong.
And I’m afraid.
I hate the smell, taste and effects of beer. It causes a lot of pain and suffering. A lot of young adults and teens die because of beer and over drinking. People die in car accidents because of drinking. A lot of people consider it an art form.
Beer is a form of liquid commonly consumed by humans, anywhere from adolescence to old men (perhaps old women, too). Like the internet, dessert, water, or pretty much anything – it can be fantastic in some doses and lethal in others.
After the first glass, I was still unsettled. After the second, I was mellowing out. After the third, I was waxing loquacious. After the fourth, I was the life of the party. After the fifth, I was more hops than man.
“Don’t drink! You’ll get drunk, go to a party, make bad decisions, and next thing you know, you’re pregnant! Or worse, dead! Drunk driving? NO! You’ll kill somebody and yourself! You can go to jail! Don’t drink! Beer pong, Quarters, Funnels, NO! Not whiskey, rum, gin, beer, wine, or vodka! Drinking alcohol will kill you, so don’t do it! Alcohol is BAD! A NO-NO! Don’t drink alcohol while pregnant or you will have a retarded and deformed baby! Alcohol is not good! IT’S BAD!!!!”
I sit in Health Class, listening to my teacher lecture and rant on . . . and on . . . and on . . . It doesn’t matter, though, because everyone is going to do it anyways.
Probably even the health teachers.
beer
Beer bear berries beard bread breed
Our language has such similar words
As drinks go, this is one of the well known, and possibly the best thing Vikings have ever discovered.
He grabbed the beverage from her. “Thanks.” But if you looked closely enough, you’d see that he was averting his glance from hers, purposely so their eyes wouldn’t meet. He knew that she was giving him a beer, and she knew that he would discard it as soon as he walked away. Neither knew that the other knew, so, eyes down, they carried on with their lives, pretending nothing had ever happened between them. And it hadn’t. At least, not yet.
Okay, I’m sorry,but I only had a minute to write this. (Yeah, it did take like 3, but that’s not the point.)The point is this makes no sense whatsoever, sorry! Haha :)
beer
The beer sloshed out of the cup I was holding as I walked towards the car. Parties were stupid, all we ever did was get drunk and high. But that was the point, right? We just wanted to forget all about life, and that was the best way to do it. I sipped at my drink, making a face as it ran down my throat. I would stop someday.
The amber colored bubbly substance was everywhere. The strong blonde women carried mugs and mugs at a time. The smell was overpowering as it leapt out of the glasses and stained my shirt and my skin. I love Oktoberfest.
drunk
what am i doing
regret, but i know nothing
the sweat collecting around the glass
theres a woman by herself, but she is not lonely. She is able to see beyond the bar onto tomorrow. It’ll be happier then
I had beer as my blood, those days after you left me. All I inhaled, exhaled was beer. All that circulated around my body was beer. After a while, the beer was all gone. And I was broke. So all that there was left in my body was you.