Coors Light Replaces Bud as Official Beer of Nascar

I’m shocked, shocked I tell you. I thought Nascar was supposed to be some kind of macho, redneck sport. And now today they announce that watered down Coors Light is replacing The King of Beers (aka: Budweiser) as the Official Beer of Nascar. The deal is a 5 year deal valued at $20 Million dollars ($4 MM per year). It’s the second large sponsorship deal that Coors Light has done in recent years, they also have a $100 Million dollar deal with the NFL.

I’m a Miller Lite man myself. But if I’m not drinking that I typically go with a Bud product. Coors Light? Let’s just say they are way down on my list after Keystone, Nattie Light and Zima. I’ve never been a beer snob, so pretty much any light, cold, free beer makes me happy. But Coors Light doesn’t do it for me, it’s just not that great a beer. I think I could mix water, hops and barley together and make a more potent beer.

So I’m shocked today when Nascar decided to replace The King of Beers with the King of Watered Down Beers (aka: Coors Light). What’s next for Nascar? Sponsorships by Playtex, Victoria’s Secret or Pottery Barn? If Nascar isn’t careful it’s going to lose it’s redneck image. And yes, I know they are working very hard to lose that image. But that’s a move that still doesn’t make any sense to me, because rednecks are the one’s who support Nascar.

What’s your beer of choice?

My top 5 beers:
1) Pacifico
2) Miller Lite
3) Carib
4) Dos Equis Green
5) Red Stripe

How to look like a pansy at your next tailgate…

 

I think these are banned in the SEC.

I’d be the first to admit that it gets a little chilly digging around the cooler for those last few beers, but I’ll be damned if you ever see me use this thing.

Be a man.  Roll up your sleeves and dive in.

(buy it here)

How to Beat a DWI

First off, I’d like to be clear that those of us DontCostNothing.com would never, ever advise drinking and driving.  Take a cab.  Call a friend.  Walk.  Rent a bicycle.  But, if you ever do get pulled over after throwing down a few, remember the following…

Be very, very polite. 

Yes sir.  No sir.  If you end up going to jail and you’ve been difficult, you could find yourself in a not so pleasant cell with a not so pleasant cellmate.  And, if they don’t like you, they can take extra time with your paperwork.  The first thing you’re gonna want when they lock the door on you is to get out.  Every minute can be excruciating. 

Pick a number, make it low, and never forget it.

The police are going to ask how many drinks you’ve had.  I’m reminded of a scenario when a good buddy of mine was asked how many women he’d slept with by his new, naive girlfriend.  Thinking on his feet (or on his back) he told himself: “Pick a number, make it low, and never forget it.”  That said, here’s your answer:

“1 or 2″

Next question.

Ask yourself, as you’re being pulled over, ‘How drunk am I?’ 

If you’re hammered, and they ask you to do a field sobriety test, politely decline and request to speak to your lawyer.  They’ll cuff you and put you in the car and take you to jail.  But this is much better than slurring into the camera and miserably failing the sobriety test.  Remember, from the second you get pulled over, everything is on video.  Sometimes the video comes on while they’re behind you, before they pull you over.

If you’re not hammered, but borderline, go ahead and take the tests.  As long as you don’t appear to be a mess, the video won’t hurt you too badly. 

The police might ask you to blow into a roadside breathalyzer. 

If you think you can beat your state’s legal limit (.08 or .1), go for it.  But, and this is very, very important to remember, the roadside breathalyzer is not admissible in court.  It’s been proven to be inaccurate.  It can only serve to give the police a measuring stick, so to speak.  

So they decide to take you downtown. 

Continue to be polite.  If you’re wasted, keep quiet.  I know, I know.  Easier said than done.  When you get to the station, before you’re booked they’ll ask you to blow into the “official” breathalyzer.  There is no reason to blow into this thing.  If you’ve gotten this far, even if you blow under, you’re not going home.  Don’t blow.  I repeat:

DO NOT BLOW.

The downside to this is that your license is automatically going to be suspended, regardless of whether you’re ever convicted.  In Texas, for example, it’s six months.  But it’s not the end of the world.  For about $150 you get a worker’s permit and you can drive pretty much wherever you want.  You have to keep a log in your car of where you go.  And you’ll want to keep this current, in case you get pulled over.  Do not, under any circumstances, drive on a suspended license.  You will go to jail for simply rolling through a stop sign.

Why don’t you want to blow?

It gives the state concrete evidence.  I know it sounds like you’re hiding something or that it’s incriminating to not blow, but a decent attorney can get around that very easily.  The first question most attorneys will ask is whether you blew at the station.  Yes, it sucks your license will be suspended, but it’s worth it.  A good attorney can get you off if you blow over the legal limit, but it’s a lot more difficult and you’re more likely to go to trial which is not only gut wrenching, but expensive.

The Bond

You’ll be informed of your bond when you’re being booked.  For a first time offense, it can range from $1500 to $6000 - rough estimate.  If you can come up with this cash up front, do it.  You’ll get it back once everything is settled - regardless of the outcome.  If you can’t, it’s bail bondsman time.  The bond company will charge you 20% of the full amount.  If you’re in for three grand, they’ll pay the court three grand and you pay them $600 and you never see it again.  You’ll also have to check in with the bondsman, maybe weekly.  They need to know you haven’t left the country.  You’ve seen Dog the Bounty Hunter. 

Selecting your attorney.

Most of us know an attorney or two.  Even if the attorney you know doesn’t take this kind of case (most don’t) they’ll know someone who does.  Or they can point you in the right direction.  Also, if any of your friends have been through this, talk to them.  Do not, under any circumstances, take a court appointed attorney.  If you get pulled over in a small town, do not hire any of the local attorneys.  They’re bums.  It’s worth the money to hire a reputable attorney.

You’re  looking at around $4,000 to $7,000 in attorney fees, assuming you’re not Paris Hilton and can’t afford to spend $300K on a DWI defense (which didn’t turn out, did it?).  If you go to trial, you’re looking at about a grand a day.  Seems like a lot, I know.  But you really, really don’t want a DWI on your record.  The fine can be steep and in some states you have to pay an annual fee of $2,000-$3,000 for the first three years after the conviction - that’s separate from the initial fine.  Your license will be suspended again - though in some cases they’ll count the first six month suspension as time served.  Your car insurance will triple.  You can’t rent a car.  You can also spend time in jail.  And it’s on your record for life.  They don’t go away after seven years or anything like that.

Most cases don’t go to trial.

Your attorney will work very hard to strike a deal with the state.  He (or she) will review the video with the prosecuting attorney and discuss options.  The prosecutor will discuss the situation with the police who pulled you over.  If the cop’s a hard ass, it’s tougher to make a deal.  And when I say make a deal, I mean plead guilty to obstructing a roadway or some other bullshit charge.  If you can come to that agreement, you’re looking at a fine.  Maybe up to three grand, but not much more.  The state is prone to accepting these pleas because it saves court costs and guarantees the state will at least get a little money.  Going to court and getting a not-guilty verdict costs the state (and the taxpayers) a lot of money.  The flip side is a not guilty verdict is the absolute best result.  Nothing on your record, no fine.  You can have the arrest expunged from your record, too, for a small fee - around $400-$500. 

The best way to avoid a DWI is to not drink and drive - it’s dangerous and can have horrible consequences.  Again, the men of Don’tCostNothing.com do not advise drinking and driving under any circumstances. 

Work Hangover - How to Beat It

Hungover at work?  Follow these five rules.

1.  Whenever anyone (anyone) greets you with ‘Good Morning!’ reply with ‘No thanks.’  Trust me.  Works wonders.

2.  If you’re fortunate enough to have an office, close the door.  If anyone knocks, shout: “Reports!’  They’ll go away.  If they do happen to poke their head in, point at your ass and whisper ‘Diarhhea.’  This works in a cube, but not as well.

3.  To explain why you came in late and why you took a long lunch and why you’re leaving early, simply say: ‘Leap year.’  Even if it’s not leap year, this works.  Be sure to walk away before they ask anymore questions.

4.  Sometimes, even after showering and eating and brushing your teeth three times, you still smell like booze.  I don’t know if this is a rule, but it’s a fact.  Sucks.

5.  The morning is kinda funny because you’re still drunk.  But after you eat lunch, it can come crashing down.  Therefore, it’s worth the risk to have a couple drinks at lunch.  Gets the blood moving, clears the head.  And you’ll be that much more confident with clients and co-workers. 

In summary, the best way to cope with a hangover at work is to lie, shout, act crazy, and drink.  Comes naturally to old coach, but some people have to work at it.

Sergio Garcia - A Story About Hate

I’ve loathed Sergio ‘El Nino’ Garcia since 2001, before it was cool – before he gave New Yorkers the finger and before he spit in the cup and before he was known as a crybaby excuse artist.  And I have good reason. 

 

2001 Tour Championship.  Champions Golf Club –  Houston, Texas.  3^rd Round. 

A buddy of ours hooked us up with a corporate package.  Free booze and free food and our own air conditioned hut.  We lied about our jobs - only a couple of us were employed.  The night before one of our group slept in and pissed the floor of El Presidente, our extended mini-van.  The next night we locked him in a U-Haul after we ate chili dogs with a prostitute named Chocolate.  I digress… 

Earl (names have been changed to protect the drunk) and I wobbled out Saturday afternoon to check the action.  Scotches in hand.  Lo and behold, we get word El Nino is on the tee.  That’s what they called Sergio back then.  The Boy.  That’s what I call him now.  Only 21 years old, already considered a threat to Tiger’s throne.  We were down the fairway, waiting for him to stroll up this ball.  Which wasn’t in a good spot.  Tree in front of him and rough under the tree.  He’d need a low one, but not too low, or the rough would grab it.  I’d always wondered how a pro would handle this type of shot.  Earl and I soon found out. 

The Boy steps up, everyone gawking.  He’s not far from us – maybe 30 feet - and soon realizes what I already know.  He’s pretty much fucked.  No poker face on this kid.  Pouty little shit.  Brushes his caddie back and takes a couple half-hearted practice swings.  Over the ball, all is quiet.  Punch swing.  Too low.  Rough grabs it.  He lays two, 90 yards out on a par 4, in the rough, under a tree.  Ouch.  The Boy is not happy.   

Then it happens.  All eyes on him.  He slams his club in the ground.  Hard.  We’re in Texas.  It’s been dry and the ground is like concrete.  But he slammed it really hard.  Could have snapped the shaft.  In slow motion, a cubic pound of busted up, dry dirt is flying our direction.  Actually, it’s flying right at Earl.  He’s frozen, scotch in hand.  Back to regular motion, the dirt hits him with an audible splash, from his forehead to his stomach.  It’s in his hair and his mouth and his chest hair and on his shoulders.  But most importantly, it’s in his relatively fresh scotch.  Granted, it was a free scotch.  But that’s bullshit.  Knocking dirt in a man’s scotch is like spitting on his grandfather’s grave.  Or something like that. 

100 spectators are staring at Earl.  The Boy is still close.  I knew Earl was going to say something – he has a big mouth; comes by it naturally.  But the moment was too big.  He couldn’t process everything quickly enough.  There were murmurs, nervous giggles.  The Boy never took his eyes off his ball and headed straight for it.  He knew exactly what he had done.  I can’t forget the look on his face, like he had been wronged by covering my friend Earl and his scotch in dirt. 

I can’t think of a better reason to hate a person. 

In Honor of the Kentucky Derby: How to Get Thrown Out of a Seedy Horse Track

The main reason it’s difficult to get thrown out of a sleazy horse track is the clientele.  Don’t think salt of the earth.  Think dirty, toothless, drunk, stained, obese, bald, moustached.  The men are even worse.  To stand out in this group, you’ve got to do something a little special.  It’s like a hobo being told he can’t stay under the bridge – by other hobos.   

1.  Start drinking early.  Very early.  If you don’t feel like it, remember to keep your eyes on the prize.  In my case, I went to a bar with a couple friends at 6am to watch the FA Cup Final (English soccer).  The British invented morning drinking. 

2.  Pick a Triple Crown Day.  You need the track to be crowded.  I picked the Preakness.

3.  Find a really, really shitty track.  The only live animals at my track of choice are the customers.  They might have run donkeys or cats back in the ‘80s.  It’s free to get in unless you pay $3 to go “upstairs”.  But nobody does that.  As far as I know.  I should clarify, when I say get in, I mean walk into the open air betting area where they take bets and serve booze and hot dogs.  Most TVs are black and white.

4.  When you get to the track, keep in mind you should be about 13 beer drunk, head straight to the beer stand and make friends with the disgusting slob serving drinks.  I kind of backed into a deal.  My guy, Earl, was amused by how quickly I drank my first beer and offered to give me as many as I could drink, as long as I slammed ‘em.

5.  Pick the meanest looking bet clerk, preferably a woman.  Even if there’s a line.  Don’t ever go to anyone else.  And when you put your bets in take a long time and screw ‘em up a bunch.  Get her mad.  This came naturally to me, especially after Earl watched me slam four straight paper cups of Coors.  I called my clerk ‘Betty’, but I don’t if that was her name.  It could have been.  She had sideburns.

6.  Okay, after you’re good and sauced and you’ve lost a bunch of bets and you’ve convinced several regulars that you have “a guy on the inside”, it’s go time.  Go back to your lady and lay out about 19 bets.  When she tells you that you’ve just placed $237 worth of bets, tell her that can’t be right.  And you only have $11.  Tell her it’s her fault you’ve been losing all day.  It’d be good if beer comes out of your mouth as your voice rises.  Tell her to scratch all those bets.  Before she’s done backing ‘em out of the system, start putting in more bets, even though she knows and you know you only have $11.  When she turns around and goes to the red phone, ask who she’s calling.  When she says the police, holler at your boys and run.  Enjoy the run out.  You’ve just accomplished something.

That’s it.  Six simple steps.

Getting Drunk From Gum

So how do you get drunk from Chewing Gum?

Orbit Gum just released their newest flavor gum, called Mint Mojito Orbit.

Yes, that’s right they named their gum after the popular rum cocktail. The gum promises to brighten your teeth, give you fresh breath and maybe give you a slight buzz (okay, I made that last one up). And shockingly, the gum’s release has drawn the ire of alcohol-industry watchdog groups. A spokesman for one of these groups, the Marin Institute, said that it was “reprehensible” and that surely some other manufacturers would take this idea further.

Personally, I’m looking forward to someone developing Tequila Trident, Drambuie Dentyne and Mind Eraser Mentos. It’s hard for me to sit at work and get drunk. The crumpled beer cans and clanking bottles usually draw too much attention. But if I could just pop in a piece of alcohol infused gum, well then I could get loaded all day without anyone knowing about it. No more showing up at happy hour sober, because I’d have already downed half a pack of Cape Code Chiclets.

And if the gum doesn’t cause the same ‘full bladder’ affects that drinking alcohol does, then think how great Booze Gum (I’m trademarking that name right now) would be on road trips. Stop at the Kwik-E-Mart on the way out of town to grab a couple of packs of your favorites: Bacardi flavored Bazooka and Vodka & Big League Chew. By the time you get to your destination, you’re already torqued up and ready to party.

But the ultimate Booze Gum would be a cross between Nicorette and liquor. Then you could sit on your sofa at home and get the exact same buzz you’d be getting at the bar. And you’d have a solution to help you solve your alcoholism and smoking addiction in one neat, little foiled line package. No reason to go to Betty Ford, when Booze Gums around.

For the record, the people at Wrigley’s claim they named it Mint Mojito because they were running out of other mint names. They already have bubblemint, winter mint, peppermint, spearmint, cinnamint, sweet mint, citrus mint and raspberry mint. 8 in all. So basically they were painted in to a corner, because surely there were no other possible flavor names in the world.

No word yet on whether it’s safe to chew Mint Mojito Orbit and drive. Although if you were pulled over, you wouldn’t be charged with a DWI…but rather a CTGI (Chewing To Get Intoxicated).

How many cups of beer in a keg?

The age old question that ever high school and college student should commit to memory. How many cups of beer come from a keg?

First you’ve got to establish whether you are talking about Domestic Beer or Imported Beer.
A standard keg of domestic beer holds approximately 15.5 gallons. A keg of imported beer is going to be closer to 13.2 gallons.

Second, there are 128 fluid ounces in a gallon.

Assuming you are using 12 ounce cups. The number of cups of beer in a keg:
* There are 165 cups of beer in a domestic keg.
* There are 140 cups of beer in a imported keg.

Other keg facts:
* There are approximately 16K calories in a keg of Miller Lite. Bud Light & Coors Light are slightly higher.
* There are approximately 24K calories in a keg of Rolling Rock.
* It takes almost 7 cases (24 count) of beer to equal the amount of beer in 1 keg.
* A keg of domestic beer weighs approximately 160 lbs.
* Kegs should be kept at temperatures of 35-40 degrees to stay fresh.
* If stored at the proper temperature, an average keg will last 30-60 days without losing any of it’s taste.

Why does my keg beer have too much foam?
1. The beer is not cold enough.
2. The pressure in the tap is off (aka: a broken tap).
3. The line of the tap is dirty.

Teenagers Everywhere Mourn Loss of Icon

Today, every Spring Breaker should pour a little bit of their Strawberry Hill out on the curb.   They should pour a little out on the curb for their dead homie, Ernest Gallo.  Gallo, who’s company E&J Gallo Winery makes Boone’s Farm, died on March 6th at age 97.

Gallo’s products have been staples in the diets of U.S. teenagers for the last 30 years.  His winery has produced such magnificient products as: Thunderbird, Ripple, and wine coolers.  But they are perhaps best known for their line of Boone’s Farm Fine Wines, that came in an array of colors and flavors.

Boone’s Farm Wine List:
* Apple Blossom
* Blackberry Ridge
* Blueberri
* Country Kwencher
* Fuzzy Navel
* Hard Lemonade (not as good as it sounds, trust me)
* Kiwi Strawberry
* Mango Grove
* Melon Ball
* Mountain Berry (very underrated)
* Orange Hurricane (avoid at all costs)
* Pina Colada
* Raspberry Hard Lemonade
* Sangria
* Snow Berry Creek (this is the best one they make, a must try)
* Strawberry Daiquiri
* Strawberry Hill (the king of Boone’s Farm wines, everyone has had it once)
* Sun Peak Peach
* Watermelon
* Wild Island (kind of nasty)
* Wild Raspberry

The King of Boone’s Farm family of Fine Wines:  Strawberry Hill

Things I Hate - #1,297

Flying hungover. 

You’re out with your boys and you have an 8am flight and well why not let’s have a few and the next thing you know you’re in an underground bar in Greenwich Village dancing shirtless in a human sized parrot cage with a mulatto transvestite named Sure-Lee with really nice fake tits and you don’t even make it back to the hotel and you’re on the plane and the drunk fades and you realize you’re in a foil tube with 300 other people and it’s gonna crash and you’re in the back by the only toilet that “works” and the inflight meal is diarrhea chili and you’re wedged between a moley, tanktopped sumo wrestler with armpit hair like a greasy horsetail and an obese species of dumpstermouthed woman with a pimplebeard and an autistic kid (with a very comforting and understanding mother) behind you using the back of your seat as a racquetball court timing every bump with a ‘bang!’ and a midget in front of you with his seat kicked all the way back so he can fully stretch his disgusting, shrunken limbs and you know you’re gonna die but you don’t know how and the sumo wrestler and carnival bitch are timing their farts so there’s a visual burst of pubic gas surrounding your face like a stinknoose.