Low Blow co-host and general assface Jacob has written up an ode to Mickey’s for getting us fucking hammered last night. Here’s the review…
In Canada City, there are a few things you can never seem to get your hands on. It can be notoriously difficult to buy a nice, cheap gun, especially when you’re mad. It’s also impossible to get your hands on any Mickey’s, the ‘official beer’ of the UFC. Though we tried valiantly to find a premium malt liquor up North, the closest thing we have to it here is “Johnny Bootlegger” a brew so foul in makes urine seem like champagne. And so, our trek from the land of perpetual winter was due, at least in part, to our intense desire to taste the sweet nectar of the gods known as Mickey’s.
Now although we are Canadians, we here at fightlinker would like to clarify that we have no fucking clue what goes into beer, how it’s manufactured, and what the difference is between a lager and a pilsner. We in fact do not care, so long as by the end of the night, Ryan is attempting to balance things on his head, and I am making people cry with my acerbic wit.
So imagine our delight when we were finally taken to a bar where we could try our very first Malt liquor beverage. We were quickly serviced with two King-cans by a shaggable, though arguably highly annoying and pushy waitress, who I unsuccessfully tried to put the moves on. Apparently, outside my little country, a girl is offended when you offer to stick your thumb up their ass, but I digress.
The cans were decorated with the stately image of Chuck Liddell, and the sweet sound of victory was to be ours as we cracked the can open and finally put the drink to our parched lips. So how did our expectations measure up? We liked it. We really enjoyed our first experience drinking malt liquor, and felt little to no shame doing it. So encouraged were we that 8-9 more tallboys were to make their way into our bloodstream, stopping just short of killing the both of us. It made me smooth enough to get a girl to touch my funny places, and drunk enough to make Ryan almost take a piss in the bar’s kitchen.. good times!
Of course, no taste test is complete without the morning after review. So, how messed up were we from our premium, malt liquor escapade? Miraculously, not at all. No hangover, no puking. Sure, my pee smelled funny, and I think there was a bit of blood in my stool, but that happens every so often anyways. All in all, a satisfying experience, one that we hope will allow us to continue endlessly selling out to a major corporation while our integrity and souls slowly fade to nothingness.