I spend a lot of time in the bathroom looking at myself in the mirror. Not for the sake of vanity, but for the sake of loathing. I choose to use the mirror in the bathroom for several reasons, of which the most important in terms of face loathing is the harsh lighting. Also, the bathroom is best suited for loathing activities as it contains all the necessary accoutrements for loathing-based modifications (tweezers, scissors, etc.) and/or vomiting (toilet, sink, bathtub, etc.).
Earlier today, while preparing for work, slightly hungover from an evening of drinking Tired Hands' Gelatinous Womb, I could not help but hate my face. I wiped the steam from the mirror in effort to judge whether or not I needed to trim my George Michael-style shadow beard for work and almost instantly came to the conclusion that nothing in this world could matter less. I also concluded that if my beard line continues to rise at its current pace, I will be shaving my bottom eyelids by the time I am 45.
Couple this encroachment from the south with eyebrows that seem to be expanding down from the north and I see no reasonable scenario in which, ten years from now, I maintain the gift of sight without an arsenal of well made tweezers. If I were a female, I would spend a majority of my morning tweezing my upper eyelids in order to fit in with the latest fads and trends of lady faces.
Now it should be stated, for the sake of full disclosure, that I have a device – an electronic device. Actually, I have many electronic devices, but this particular device is for the kind of person that has the sort of facial problems described above. This device, powered only by a AAA battery, acts much like a chainsaw would. However, in the dense forest of hair that is my person, even a chainsaw can only accomplish so much. In fact, I get about two to three uses out of the thing before the battery simply quits. I consider myself lucky that the device hasn't overheated and exploded battery acid all over my face. At this point, I generally retire the device for a minimum of a month, which I found through trial and error is approximately how long it takes me to remember and then execute the task of replacing the battery. Perhaps I should keep my AAA batteries in the bathroom, but I fear corrosion. Also, keeping batteries in the bathroom would probably impact the turn around time of replacing batteries in my remote controls.
It should also be stated that my eyebrows grow with the fervor of an invasive plant species. In fact, I believe that my eyebrows have actually grown inside my face and made their way through my sinuses and into my nostrils. I honestly believe this. I don't have nose hair. I have eyebrows growing inside my nostrils. Imagine if a giant squid had sex with a suspension bridge – that is what you would see if you peered up my nose. Now imagine if exactly one of these giant squid suspension cable nose hairs was pure white. So white is this singular nose hair that it appears to glow against the backdrop of the pure black web of all my other nose hairs. Ships could be guided safely into harbor with this beacon located in my left nostril. It is as if all of Lord Of The Rings took place inside my body and a miniature Gandolf has finally found his way out.
I suspect it not even actually hair, but rather a tiny ivory tusk. The idea of slowly morphing into a rhinoceros would explain some of the post-winter changes that large portions of my skin appear to be going through. It would also support my current changes in weight and musculature. Wife took a picture of me doing yard work this past weekend and I looked like a straight up man-beast. I promptly suggested that Wife send that particular photo to all of her friends via different social media outlets with the caption, “Menage?” I specifically asked her omit the “a trois” portion because I didn't want to limit my sexual possibilities. I briefly considered the caption “blank-some?”, but feared some might misconstrue my intent with replies like “handsome” rather than “three-some” or “four-some”.
I wonder if people can pinpoint the exact moment that the beer hits my brain while I'm writing. Because clearly it happened somewhere during that previous paragraph. I wonder if when John Lennon sang “I am the Walrus” he was actually describing his discovery of two (one in each nostril) white, tusk-like, hairs growing in his nose. I wonder why he chose to declare himself a Walrus rather than an Elephant. Why did I choose Rhinoceros when I could have easily said Unicorn? Because Unicorns are beautiful and Rhinos have bad skin (also, I'm pretty sure I've previously described myself as a unicorn and personified my body hairs as soldiers). Perhaps Lennon chose the Walrus because he did not feel he had the ears representative of an Elephant. Or perhaps, unlike an Elephant, he was forgetful. Or maybe his hands were slowly turning into flippers. This last theory is doubtful though, as flipper hands would have probably affected his musical ability.
While we are talking about hands...
Gelatinous Womb, Tired Hands Brewing Company
Appearance = 5/5
It doesn't really look like beer. At least not a beer I have had before. It looks more like a a subdued orange juice. It is opaque with a pale orange-yellow color. There's not much head, but some lacing. It looks like one of the coolest things I have ever seen.
Smell = 5/5
I smell beer a lot and often struggle to place the aroma. I find myself asking, “Is that grapefruit? Do I smell oranges?” With this beer, there was no struggle. I immediately smelled the grapefruit. Not the idea of grapefruit, but actual grapefruit. I smelled oranges and nectarines as well. It was amazing. There's also an aroma of sweetness and fermentation – in a good way.
Taste = 4.75/5
Gelatinous Womb is brewed with Galaxy, Motueka, and Nelson Sauvin hops and the taste very much follows the nose with peppery bitterness to the flavor as it fades between sips. Again, I've never tasted a beer like this, let alone a DIPA. I didn't think it was possible, but it is almost too juicy.
Feel = 4.75/5
The beer is brewed with spelt, which is a specialty wheat, or an ancestor of wheat. I had never heard of it before. A quick search of the Internet led me to one comment that stated spelt is halfway between wheat and rye. I immediately believed that comment and imagined it was the spelt giving the beer its rather smooth but substantial feel – not light like a typical wheat but also not a typical feel for a DIPA. Perhaps the spelt also contributes to the hint of pepper in the finish. The carbonation is on the light side but the beer does not need it. A unique feel, to say the least.
Overall = 4.75/5
This was the first time I've had any beer by Tired Hands and it was so very good that the moment I smelled and sipped it I contacted my three serious beer tasting friends that live close by and told them they needed to get to my house ASAP. Only one made it over and he was equally impressed. It is like nothing I've ever had. I had a considerable amount of hype built into my brain for this brewery considering they are listed in Ratebeer's Top 100 and are #28 on our Brewery Leaderboards, and I was not disappointed. I also got two small growlers (32 oz.) of two different Saisons (SaisonHands and Sunulate) and they both immediately reminded me of how good Saisons can be. I recommend them both - SaisonHands being a bit more straight forward and delicious while Sunulate has a tart and a funk that I absolutely loved.
J. R. Shirt is on Twitter and Untapped @beeronmyshirt. He is aware that the Walrus was Paul.