Monthly Archives: May 2013

A terrible confession*

I have a difficult thing to admit, and since the Internet is the place for over sharing (and only about 20 people will read this anyway..hello!) I’m going to just put this out there…

I don’t like beer.

There! I’ve said it!

Whew! It feels so good to get that off my chest!

When I say I don’t like it, I don’t mean the drinking culture, or beer commercials, or beer as a concept best expressed through interpretive dance and weeping, I mean I don’t like the taste.

Now I know what you beer connoisseurs are going to say; I’ve never had a good beer, I must try this lovely craft beer from Oregon. Or I should go to Amsterdam or Germany because those folks really know their beer. Or I will change my mind once I have this lager from…wherever it is that has good lager.

People have suggested that I would develop a taste for it. But a combination of having a low alcohol tolerance, and an aversion to metaphorically hitting my head against the wall, keeps me from really dedicating myself to this particular cause.

Believe me when I tell you, I have. I’ve tried. I still don’t like it. The most I’ve been able to accomplish in these scenarios is to drink something that I’ll say “Well, I don’t hate this.” But that is not the same thing as liking it. If beer was a person, it would be a person that everyone seems to think is awesome, and I tend to think is okay, but I don’t really care if that person shows up or not.

I often wish that I enjoyed beer, the same way I often wish that I enjoyed watching sports. I’m the sort that delights in other people’s delight; it’s fun to get caught up in other’s enthusiasm. So I think these people whom I love, love these things. I must be missing something…

But then I find myself at a Super Bowl party, watching an interminable game, way more excited about the nachos than the touchdowns.

So I’m officially giving up. I am a waste of a good beer that would be better given to someone who could truly enjoy it.

And before you ask, yes. I have tried cider. I do like it better than beer. But do I like it better than apple juice?

Not really.

*in the pantheon of great confessions, I realize that this doesn’t really rank very high.

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Cockroaches and aliens

Although Los Angeles is hot and has many palm trees; it is not a tropical climate in which an encounter with a cockroach is met with indifference. So when I found one relaxing in my hallway a few weeks ago, I really hoped that it was an unusually large and shiny wad of lint.

But it wasn’t.

It was late, so I put a glass over it, deciding to deal with it the next morning. I thought the neighbors might not appreciate the inevitable screaming and stomping around that I expected would happen.

(From me, not the roach.)

The next morning I found what I thought was a dead roach in its glass prison, but after a panicked few minutes for all involved, realized that I was wrong. Apparently, roaches play possum. What followed was, I am ashamed to say, the most inefficient roach execution ever, involving a stiff piece of cardboard, an incomplete decapitation, bleach cleaner, and drowning.

Here’s the thing, roaches may be disease ridden and indicative of a larger problem. But they are not poisonous or particularly dangerous. So my reaction to what was (fortunately) a single roach, was completely irrational. Indeed, this could be said of my reaction to all my uninvited, six to eight legged guests.

I wondered what it would be like, if the situation were reversed? That human beings could accidentally find themselves lost in an alien home somewhere, and the aliens reaction to us would be disgust and fear. They’d worry about a “human infestation” and read distressing stories about how some of us reproduce entirely too often, are noisy and destructive to the environment, and are indicative of an unclean, alien home.

The nice, zen Buddhist aliens would carefully catch us and release us, hoping we will wander off somewhere away from their homes. The others would freak out like I did. But in both cases, our arrival would never be considered a good thing.

I really hope I’m not around for the alien invasion.

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