#lostabbey – PorchDrinking.com
Melissa Viviane Jefferson was born April 27th 1988. Almost 31 years to that date, she would drop her 3rd studio album, “Cuz I Love You” under her stage name of Lizzo. The album is a beautiful and fun ode to womanhood. She has willingly and knowingly set America up for a summer of putting her record on repeat. Since her first album in 2013, Lizzo has been putting out feminist, body-positive songs that make you feel in her own words “Good As Hell”. Her songs scream female-empowerment; and we are here for it.
Going to the Great American Beer Festival (GABF) in Denver, Colorado is an incredibly exciting experience. However, it can also be cruel and unrelenting if you are not prepared for it. The opportunity to sample rare and specialty beer from across the country is a dream for craft beer enthusiasts. But just like any good dream, it also has the ability to turn into a nightmare. Here is my survival guide to ensure you get the best experience out of your time next year. Trust me, I survived all four sessions from September 20 -22.
I’ve been to numerous beer festivals, including the massive production that is Sierra Nevada’s Beer Camp, but I’ve never been to a celebration like FoBAB, and now I think I know why. On a cold Saturday, I arrived to the UIC Forum to a line of at least 150 people, anxiously lined up for Saturday’s afternoon session, which didn’t start for another… two hours. Seeing this first-hand raised my eyebrows, but taking the first sip of barrel-aged beer a little past noon almost made my eyes water. This stuff was not for the faint of heart, and that high-octane appeal brought out only the most fanatical beer lovers to the 15th annual Festival of Barrel-Aged Beers. After getting a good buzz from imbibing in a few more sub-5oz sips, I realized FoBAB was a different beer festival than anything I had experienced before.
I am excited to bring you a second edition of the Literary Beers series. Can we call it a series now that there is more than one? Meh, who is counting… I lost count long ago.
This week I woke up and it felt like somebody just emptied a fistful of quarters into a Magic Fingers bed. Only I’m at home in California, not in a South Dakota Super8 circa 1978, and that means… earthquake! I’d never felt a quake before, and really it was over as soon as it started. Nothing cracked or fell, and even my pictures stayed straight on the wall. So it was mostly an excuse for folks to go all Chicken Little all over Twitter, but it was a little unsettling to think about the ground opening up and swallowing us all. What better beer to mark a “near death experience” than Deliverance from Lost Abbey.