Beer drinking doesn't do half the harm of lovemaking.
St. Patrick... one of the few saints whose feast day presents the opportunity to get determinedly whacked and make a fool of oneself all under the guise of acting Irish.
I often sit back and think, I wish I'd done that, and find out later that I already have.
Beer, of course, is actually a depressant, but poor people will never stop hoping otherwise.
I don't drink these days. I am allergic to alcohol and narcotics. I break out in handcuffs.
I used to think drinking was the only way to be happy. Now I know there is no way to be happy.
See, there's a fat guy doing okay. Bring me another beer.
We shall drink to our partnership. Do you like gin? It is my only weakness.
Who watches golf on TV? Who calls eight friends over and gets a keg of beer? Landscapers, I guess. They sit around the TV, yelling, "Will you look at that golf path?Pure pea gravel."
If you're unlucky enough not to have alcoholic parents, it takes you a whole lifetime of intoxication to overcome the dead weight of their virtues.
I've got to make a new life for myself, I'm out to learn how to enjoy my leisure now that I'm retired. I've been doing things people expected of me always. I want to feel free. I want to sit under a linden tree with nothing more important to worry about than the temperature of the beer, if there is anything more important.
Listen up, you couch potatoes: each recycled beer can saves enough electricity to run a television for three hours.
I don't go to the gym or practice yoga. And the closest thing I have to a nutritionist is the Carlsberg Beer Company. I just have the appetite of a pigeon.
No one has ever had an idea in a dress suit.
That's what's cool about working with computers. They don't argue, they remember everything, and they don't drink all your beer.
There is more similarity in the marketing challenge of selling a precious painting by Degas and a frosted mug of root beer than you ever thought possible.
In my case, I thoroughly enjoy running 100-odd miles a week. If I didn't I wouldn't do it. Who can define happiness? To some, happiness is a warm puppy or a glass of cold beer. To me, happiness is running in the hills with my mates around me.
I think I get used to, even addicted to, the feelings associated with the end of a long training run. I love feeling empty, clean, worn out, starving, and sweat-purged. I love the good ache of muscles that have done me proud. I love the way a cold beer tastes later that afternoon. I love the way my body feels light and sinewy.
Pure water is the best gifts a man can bring. But who am I that I should have the best of anything? Let princes revel at the pump, let peers with ponds make free, ...beer is good enough for me.
In particular, there was a butler in a blue coat and bright buttons, who gave quite a winey flavour to the table beer; he poured it out so superbly.
If somebody attacks me with words, I'm always like, Do you know me? Do you know me that well? Let's have a beer and talk about it.
My first open mic, I drank a full pitcher of beer by myself. I wasn't afraid of being in front of people as much as, Is this funny?
There's a long tradition of teen comedies where the kids are getting drunk on beer and whatever else, so smoking a joint to me is no worse than having a beer. So, if someone has a problem with it, I'll just tell them to relax.
It says that alcoholism is a disease, and that it gets passed on from generation to generation. I've told my kids about that: "You've got the crazy gene in you, guys. When it comes time to kick back with the buddies, drink a beer, and watch a football game, just realize that there will be a day when that thing turns on you. So you better keep an eye on it".
Boughs have their fruit and blossom At all times of the year; Rivers are running over With red beer and brown beer.
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