Weblog Sin Pies

By Charley Daniels

My last post was an August Fools joke! I got you so good.

Moving on.

This conversation just happened while Isabelle and I were watching gymnastics:

Isabelle: Did he just say “full tootsie double back?”

Charley: No, “full twisting double back.”

Isabelle: No, “tootsie.”

[pause]

Charley: Which makes more sense?

Okay, maybe I should address that August Fools joke that you all fell so hard for. As with all good lies, the way I made it work was that I made myself believe it for a couple days. See? I told myself that I was, in fact, going to give up drinking completely until Sept. 11. But inside my mind there was this hidden place where I keep things that even I don’t want to know. In there a voice said, “Actually, that’s not true, but let’s go with this for a while.” And thus the best ever Weblog Sin Pies August Fools joke was perpetrated. I hope you liked it!

Look, the problem with giving up drinking completely for one month is it’s not nearly as fun and delicious as not giving up drinking. Do you know what I mean? For example, I’m fairly certain that if it weren’t for Ketel One, I wouldn’t have come home at 4 a.m. Saturday morning covered in sand, the result of a tumble I took at the beach while trying to put my pants back on. I mean, these are the stories that we partially remember for most of the rest of our late 20s and early 30s, so I owe it to myself to keep that going. Don’t I?

And in case you’re wondering, the much more reasonable part of me has agreed to the “only drinking on the weekend and during public speaking” plan, which I think is far more realistic and also very healthy of me. Everything in moderation, people. Everything.

By Charley Daniels

So I’m going to try not to drink any sort of boozy liquid for a month. I started a couple days ago, but I thought I would wait to see how well I did before I actually wrote about it here. I’ve tried this before a couple times and have failed each time. In fact, when I told Isabelle I was going to do it she just said, “Yeah, right.” And in the couple days I’ve been sticking to it, whenever I mention it (which is often, because I whine) she rolls her eyes like I just told her I was training to become a superhero.

I know what you’re thinking: “This post looks really long. And wordy.” And you might also be wondering why I decided to stop drinking for a month. In the immortal words of my mom, who’s been known to rock down a drink or two: When it comes to abstaining from alcohol, sometimes it’s a good idea to see if you actually can. There may be other benefits as well.

But! I’ve already stepped in it big time, because yesterday I agreed to participate in a panel discussion about editors and new media. It’s in two weeks and it takes place at a bar. Though I’m certain I’m able to go to a bar to hang out without having a drink, it’s a whole different thing when I’m there to step on stage and be informative for aspiring editors who will probably be listening to what I say and might even be looking directly at me while I say it. I’ve come a long way from my thespian society days, and over the last 10 years I’ve lost every ounce of my ability to speak in public without feeling like a complete asshole. And I think we can all agree that that was a good change.

So I can stick with the program, try not to cave, and maybe huff some paint in the parking lot before the panel. Or I can make an exception for the one day. Trouble with making an exception is, right now I can drink pretty good, mostly owing to my Oregon vacation. Tolerance is sky high. But after not having had anything to drink for two weeks, I could get myself into trouble by overestimating how much booze I can handle — just before I step on stage as a guest panelist. I can see how this may seem like a win-win situation. For you. But there are plenty of reasons why I don’t want to stagger up there. My fellow panelists almost certainly won’t be cockeyed drunk, especially the one from the venerable public institution NPR, which hands out gravitas to strangers on the street because its people don’t know what to do with all the extra. I suppose I could just, you know, go easy. Which is something I am capable of. But nerves! Maybe I’ll wait to see what the questions are and then decide from there.

I can drink again, officially, on Sept. 11. I thought that was good day to come back because it’s easy to remember and it’s a good excuse to drink. Until then, I’ll miss beer. For more reasons than most people realize.

P.S. Some of you may intermittently notice a hilarious ad for “penis reduction pills” above the header. What can I say, the check cleared.

By Charley Daniels

Lately I’ve been liking lighter beer more and more, mostly because it goes better with valium. Joke!

But the part about lighter beer was no joke. In fact, it’s rather serious. You see, I love a good craft-brewed, thick as War and Peace, kick-in-the-ass ale. But it’s sort of like cake when you’re 10 versus cake now. When you’re 10, you want to eat the whole cake, and you might do just that if given the opportunity. As an adult, you usually find some restraint, particularly if other people are watching, and have only one piece of cake…

That analogy can kiss my ass.

It’s a bad analogy, I realized, because as an adult I have the utmost restraint when it comes to cake, but I have very little restraint when it comes to beer. And if I’ve had between 6 and 16 beers, I no longer have restraint when it comes to cake. So it’s much more complicated than a “cake when you’re 10” story would suggest. And I’ll be damned if I haven’t been able to simplify most things in life with a “cake when you’re 10” story.

So I guess what this discussion is really about is analogies. What are they? I hate to point out the elephant in the room, but “anal” makes up more than half of the word “analogy.” But why is that? To me, an analogy is like when a writer takes creative license and bends the truth, only in an analogy it’s obvious the actual analogizing is just an example, hopefully one that represents reality in a simpler way than reality itself does. So an analogy is to reality as algebra is to everyday life. Because you use algebra in everyday life, if lying math teachers are to be believed.

But sometimes reality is a bummer. And that’s when beer comes in handy, regardless of whether it’s light or dark or cake-flavored. I think we can all agree on these points I’ve just presented.

By Mike Bijon

By Charley Daniels

One of the casualties of working all the time and being paid for it is that the little things that maybe don’t help pay the bills kind of fall off the top of the to-do list. It isn’t that I’m not dedicated to Sin Pies, it’s just that I haven’t the time or energy to put together worthwhile posts. I assure you this hiatus is temporary, though.

If BuzzDash weren’t so fun to work on, my life would be a lot more difficult right now. As it is, I’m neglecting my hobbyish activities in favor of something that’s fun and happens to be work. Not a bad deal. Speaking of, here’s a little something from the site, for your voting pleasure:

I know at least one of you (counting me) is going to wonder where the “It doesn’t matter so long as it’s pouring into my mouth” option is. You should pretend this is Heaven, where you get to choose whatever type of beer you want from this list I’ve provided. See, look at all these choices. And feel free to print that in your fancy publications, too. “BuzzDash: Sort of like Heaven.”