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The Bluebonnet Home Brew competition is decedent and depraved.

By the time the commercial tasting started I already had a pretty good buzz going on.  There were a few beers on tap for the participants of the event, and I experienced something I had never thought possible: a Humperdinks beer that was quite enjoyable.  The double pale ale was shockingly similar to what you would expect from a level headed small time brewery.  Then, the commercial tasting started, and I realized that the approximately 100 beers were like like Pokemon; I had to catch them all!  I don't think I was alone.


At the appropriate time we ran into the next room and made sure our table was set up.  No one was ready for this.  The Awesome Brewers, Great Job! started dispensing beer like it was Christmas.  When people first started coming up to our table I felt compelled to to drink our beer with them.  I wanted to be right there with them when they sampled our wares.  Before too long, I might have become what some people would consider totally wasted, along with hundreds of other people. 

The words of Hunter S. Thompson ran through my head:
"I was right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo, and somebody was giving booze to these goddamn things. Won't be long now before they tear us to shreds."

Hundreds of people stopped by our table and we dispensed our teams beer like there was no tomorrow.  Later, we would learn that we were not supposed to even be there.  The home brew clubs that set up elaborate booths had registered before hand.  We simply showed up with a folding table, 15 gallons of beer, and a tube of dinosaurs.  There were a lot of people there, and we handed out a lot of beer.  After this point, things get fuzzy.  I was surrounded by middle aged, white, republicans who all felt the clepto vibe when they got drunk.  Stealing our dinosaurs became a national sport.  I would complain more, but somehow I think we expected this.  We woke up just in time for the pub crawl.  Seriously, these people are animals.  I was covered in bruises and there were clouded memories of police officers.

It was 3pm, the next day, and already people were bragging about the booty they acquired on their last bar raid.  Glasses, signs, and unopened bottles of beer were among the spoils of war that these white collar ruffians displayed on the buss.  "So, this is how one prepares for an award ceremony," I thought.  It all makes sense now.  The award ceremony was utter hell.  Thank God for Peggle.  After two hours of self congratulatory dribble, the first award had not be given out.  We suspected this might happen, so we brought a cooler of beer with us.  Armed with a laptop, a Steam account, and the kind of drunken belligerence that can tolerate condescending states, we played peggle until they got to the categories that we had entered beer in. "We" does not include my wife, who found a hot red head and rumors of a hot tub.  As soon as we learned that we were not getting any awards, we packed up and headed toward this fabled hot tub.

At this point, there was some drama.   My wife lost a dress, I almost killed superman, a disappointed and angry father was sent on a wild goose chase, and we made some new Austin friends.  How can so many old men drink so much?  Bluebonnet was a marvel to behold. 

The next morning we tried to pack up the car while avoiding the people who might have disapproved of my choice of asses that I thought needed to be smacked the night before.  It was Sunday morning, and we were worried that there would be no way to get a drink before noon.  Luckily BJ's serves their beer in the morning as long as there is food on the table.   Tatonka stout is awesome.  After we drank for a while, Maticus ordered shrimp and white wine and then he went next door to Best Buy and purchased a Nintendo 3DS.  Somehow that was a fitting end to the weekend.

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