Origin of The Hairy Eyeball

Well first things first, I have been really busy at work. I can't believe it either, but I am in a closing book gathering nightmare that seemingly has no end. Are you still reading? But today I resolved to begin my day not with paper cuts from piles of stupid closing documents, but rather with a blog entry. Hooray for me. So, John and I have become fans of the Travel Channel show "Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations." On his visit to Ireland we sat watching and learned that the Irish do in fact have culinary magic, especially in the form of seafood - which you would think since they inhabit an island. Now the funny, the Irish do not like the fish. This news surprises me little considering growing up I only ate it on Fridays during Lent, either fried as in fish and chips or baked as in fish stick. Something like 80% of the seafood is exported. Well, wouldn't you know it, but John suddenly makes a startling connecting observation. How the hell did the Irish starve during the potato famine if they were surrounded by seafood? So, yeah, I come from potato loving drunkards who would rather starve than gut and eat a fish. That stubborn streak of mine is suddenly becoming clear as to its origins.

I am not really sure if this qualifies as an addiction, but I am mad with the lust for Lagunitas Hairy Eyeball (see label), but it like gin before it, seems to have an ill will towards my undying infatuation. I have had this beer 3 nights last week. On Tuesday I consume three and woke up to a screaming headache. On Friday, after a strong vodka and apple juice (which is not that bad), I had two and woke up to what I believe was a hangover. Then on Saturday while playing Rock Band (holy crap it is AWESOME), like any rock star, I consumed five in quick succession the result being Sunday morning feeling like torture. Now I am sure you are sitting there saying, what a lightweight, but these beers have 8% alcohol. Of course, I think when a brewer names his beer "The Hairy Eyeball"; one might be smart enough to figure that there may be a connection to waking up with eyes bloodshot. But as referenced above, I come from a long line of stupid drunks. So midday Sunday, I promised that no Lagunitas Hairy Eyeball will touch these lips again, which totally sucks because they are so delicious, like cartwheel after and smiles all around delicious. I don't know if I can promise to be faithful to this resolution. The catch phrase on the bottle is "Here's Looking Atcha", and in my drunken and conversant state I would say back to the bottle "And here is looking at you Hairy Eyeball, you tasty little minx." How does one stop drinking a beer that gets you buzzed in 15 minutes and compliments? I don't know. I really don't.