Editor's Note: It's here! The moment has finally arrived. Today is the day we announce the winner of our 1st Annual Steve's Word Beer Bracket. Or is it? You've been intensely following the regional playoffs for several weeks here, here, here, and here. Our Final Four format did not play out as originally intended due everyone's zany Summer schedules, so we had each of our bracketeers remove all bias from their previous picks, put all four beers into a ring, and see who came out on top. Each Bracketeer found his or her own special way to determine the winner. We think you'll enjoy it. Let's get started.
I look at the final four and I see a beer for everyone; The sophisticated, four-eyed Three Philosophers; a chillaxing, good looking Hoegaarden; the slutty and unpredictable Victory Hop Devil; and the drunken hick uncle, Dale’s Pale Ale. I would love to see these interacting at a summer BBQ, I’m sure there would be no conversation that could possibly interest everyone. It would be a party with lots of uncomfortable silences to start, then followed by all out debauchery, the way most uncomfortable parties seem to end up. After a fierce battle using fold up chairs, broken bottles and some truly confusing riddles (thanks Three Philosophers), Victory Hop Devil takes it down. During this fierce competition I tried to find the perfect beer for a hot, summer, 4th of July weekend, and though beer-pong dominated my activities this week, the beer I would drink on the side would be Victory Hop Devil, distracting me from the mosquitoes that were dead in my solo cups.
Any additions to your netflix queue?
Meatballs III, Caddyshack II, and Atonement
How's that big life decision going?
It’s going great! I’m still a virgin!
What story from the current news cycle is bugging you?
Stfu about Enceladus already.
What were you most looking forward to this weekend?
Oh my stars, there was so much I was looking forward to this weekend, but I guess if I have to decide what I was MOST looking forward to it would probably be sleeping in a bed. You see, I live in my brother's attic in Philadelphia these days but I booked a week of work in New York City. Luckily, I have some gracious and accommodating friends that let me crash on their couches, but nothing compares to the comforts of a bed. Granted, I still haven't slept in my own bed since the night before I put it in a Manhattan Mini-Storage unit in May, but a bed this weekend was nice. Also, getting some action.
Editor's note: So you've been following the first annual Steve's Word Beer Bracket closer than your dwindling bank account and maybe you've been wondering just who on earth are these jerks spouting their opinions and passing judgement on all these beers. Well, we're here to answer that very question: You've seen the bracket, now get to know your Bracketeers.
Last night, through some happenstance and coincidence and no small amount of frustration, I spent a portion of my evening at a reading and signing at the Barnes and Noble's in Union Square given by a favorite author. I'm always wary of these things because people you admire generally disappoint in person. (Some day I'll tell you about my run-in with Joel Coen.) Thankfully, that was not the case this time, quite the contrary actually, the evening was everything I hoped it would be and more. Please to enjoy some pics and explanation of said pics of my evening with Chuck Klosterman. (All pics are property of Steve's Word.)
What were you most looking forward to this weekend?
This may or may not turn into a continuing feature, it depends how it turns out and how much material it actually creates. In other words, this could be the start of something great, or it could crash and burn and I'll look like a jackass. Hey that's cool, I'm totally used to it. Anyway, the othe
Welcome to Week 4 of the 1st Annual Steve's Word Beer Bracket. As my grandmother always says, it's on like Donkey Kong in a rather revealing thong. In this week's article we find out who will be the last competitor in our maddening Final Four. Have a gander at how the bracket shapes up now here. If you enjoy reading, laughing, and learning, take a look-see at how we arrived at the results for Week 1, Week 2, and Week 3. This week's winner was determined by yet another newbie to Steve's Word. In our efforts to stay hip to what all the youths are up to, we've employed the services of youngster Chase Booker. This recent college grad somehow found time between writing term papers, twittering, and playing Xbox 360 to write a studious and entertaining breakdown of his bracket. Let's get to it!
1 Chimay Première vs 16 Foster's
Foster's is really crappy. I only ever buy it by accident when I am on my way to a party and, at the bodega, am faced with the holy trinity of Bud Light-Miller Lite-Coors Light and iconoclastically decide to buy something that tastes virtually the same as all three of them but has a different label. Chimay, as we all know, is a wonderful beer -- many people's first introduction to Belgian trappist-style ales, and truly one of the best. As you can imagine, Chimay proceeds, because I hate Foster's and I don't know why I ever find myself buying it because it's absolutely horrible. Problem is, Foster’s is only the first of the many bad lagers I had the honor of tasting for my bracket. Thanks, Mitchell.
what were you most looking forward to this weekend?
Look, I’m a simple man with simple desires and an achin’ back that just won’t quit. Truth be told, I was just looking forward to kickin’ back and watching Pat and Vanna in the waiting room at Dr. Shit-for-Brains’s office.
any additions to your netflix queue?
Scam alert! I watch my movies the old-fashioned way. I wait three months for them to come out at the dollar theatre down on Maple. The way movies were meant to be seen.
Yes, that's right, I'm back. I'm in full-on confessional column mode because I know the world is dying for another glimpse into the bedroom and brain of little old Nate Green. And you're in for a special treat today because I've got something special. Get ready for a wild tale full of intrigue and self-deprecation, sexual adventure and general emasculation. What else would you expect from me? I know, right. I've really got my niche nailed down. At least that's one thing I'm nailing.
I'm where you might picture me: sitting at my desk in the wee hours of the day. I haven't been able to sleep for the past couple of nights and instead of milling around my apartment for a few hours and killing time by watching SportsCenter over and over in the morning, I've been coming in to the office and sitting in the dark, like I do. You see, it all started the other night during that crazy-ass lightening storm that occurred at three in the goddamn morning. I snapped awake to the sound of a crack of thunder and suddenly the whole room was lit up like the stage at the Super Bowl Halftime show. I could see my freaking shadow and everything. That storm was the exclamation point on the craziest night of my whole damn life, a night I've yet to really process and certainly nowhere near recovering from. You see, when that thunder woke me up, I wasn't in my bedroom. And I wasn't alone.
Come on, Eldrick.