The Home Brew

Me at home

Recently I have undertaken a new hobby: that of the mysterious and greatly feared home beer brewer. You know what I am talking about, as nearly everyone has the crazy uncle that creates concoctions that are supposed to be beer, but turn out to be fermented sheep feces with an "anchovie twist" that puts you in the bathroom for eight hours or, at least, a visit to the emergency clinic.

But not me. Oh, no. I am in the mindset of producing the best beer since the dawn of man.

Tools for brewing beer:

1. Store bought beer. This is necessary because the whole time you are brewing beer you are thinking about beer, and you'll be damned if you are going to brew beer without being overpoweringly drunk. This should be in the guides listed under "no fucking way," but it is the nature of man.

2. More store bought beer.

3. A boiling pot. This is necessary because you have to boil this viscuous, vile blob of slop that some "kit maker" has canned, deciding that the best way to poison yourself is to just do it the direct way and drink some bile that you have created with your own talented hands and some deadly bacteria.

4. More store bought beer.

5. Some esoteric and fairly costly brewing buckets, various tubes, a hydrometer, good water, and some more store bought beer. After you have sterizied the equipment you are going to use, be careful and read all the directions, because after all the alcohol you have recently consumed, you are going to benefit your careful reading of the instruction book.

6. A lot of bottles you have saved from drinking a lot of store bought beer. Damn, that means no cans, but it restores your faith in humanity because now you have to have the better beers to support your new habit. This means more store bought beer.

To protect this new triumph for posterity I began a diary to record the monumental effects of my future home business. Here are a few highlights.

Day one:
Dear diary,
I am tired of drinking these terrible american beers. Today, I am going to change things and take control! I have inherited a lot of brewer's equipment from an uncle that used to make a really strong Anchovie beer, but, what the hell, he was drunk the whole time he was brewing! So today I have sterilized all the equipment, and generally prepared everything for tomorrow's brewing. I have had a few beers, I admit, but there is soemthing primal about making your own beer. I feel like the real do-it-yourselfer! (Note to self: bleach smells terrible and this whole cleaning thing is for the birds. If you cannot shee bacteria are they really there?)

Day two:
Dear diary,
I am really tired of these american beers! After another dozen I feel like I am ready to take on the home brewing experience. What the hell do they put in this can anyway? It looks like Aunt Jemema's sirrup, but it smells like my underwear...(did I say that?) Oh what the hell, I cannot feel my hands at this point anyway. (Note to self: does blood flavor beer? I cut the shit out of my finger opening the can.) After boiling the contents of the can, though, I see that I have baked on the bottom of my boiling pot something that looks like roofing tar. As a matter of fact, the rest of this fluid smells like roofing tar. These instructions are confusing and do NOT say what to do with roofing tar. Still, one must not hinder progress, so I put this fluid in the brewing bucket and spread the special brewer's yeast on the top of this mess. I put in a few plastic army men. I can still hear the screams of the little blighters as I poured them out, but now the magic of beer musht occur.

Day seven:
Dear diary,
This was the big day! After a few brewskies I am reedy for the bottles now. You now whaat? These bottles have all these different kinds of beer on em, so I spent a few hours with a crayon putting my OWN brand on them. Tres Equis!! hahahahaha......er...well it was funny then I guess. I figured that a few artistic illustrations would help the whole brewing experience. I am not going to change all that now. Sho I mixed them all with some sugar, an I out the tops on, and only one exploded and blinded my dog. Not bad.

Day eight:
Dear diary,
OK, so more than one exploded. In fact, my shed looks like Hiroshima, and when I walk in there my shoes keep coming off and I have cuts in my feet and face, and my hands are still stuck to my shirt, but I am confident that this is a really great hobby! Only two more weeks of waiting and I can enjoy the truly great beer that the home brewer can make!

Day twentytwo:
Dear diary,
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHAT DID I JUST POUR IN MY MOUTH??? I had no idea that beer should have eyes and an attitude, but tentacles?? Jeebus, now the whole room is spinning! This ceature is eating my guts!
AAAAARRRRGGHHHHHH

Day twentyeight:
Dear diary,
The recovery room nurses are HOT. I want to invite them to my house for a home brew, but my humble dwelling is now an environmental disaster and the government is "burning my house to the ground in the interest of mankind". Sheesh, what a bunch of bullies. Where do they get off suggesting that I get a hobby like "more crayon drawings"? I am a creative man, though, and I have my eye on this home brewing kit for wines....