See Me, Feel Me, Beer Me

This girl has it going on.  Kate and Pippa could take a style lesson from her.  Did I not say that the fascinator would be big this summer?  I made one out of an old bike pump but it’s not nearly as chic as this Steam Whistle one.  I ran into her last night at The Beer Festival at the CNE, which goes on August 5, 6, and 7th, click here for the details.  If you can’t make it this weekend, then mark it on your calendar for next year because this was probably the funnest night I have had since I have been old enough to drink beer.  Which is younger than some of you because I grew up in Quebec where the legal drinking age is a state of mind that doesn’t require a birth certificate, just a pair of tight jeans and an attitude.  And between you and me, I have always loved beer, even as a little kid I would beg for a sip from my dad’s glass.  My mother thought (and still does)  that it’s trashy to drink beer straight from the bottle or can and I can get behind that because it’s easier to keep inventory what you left.  And  have you ever been to a party and picked what you thought was your beer bottle when in fact, it was the communal ashtray?  Gross!!!

No chance of that at the Beer Festival.  Upon admittance you are given a clear plastic 8 ounce cup that is yours for the night and if you lose it, you have to buy another one for 20 bucks or share.  I am sure people are more likely to lose their cell phones than their plastic cups.  Lorraine and I got to the grounds around 6, I was like a kid on Christmas Day waiting to open presents and Lorraine was dying to unwind after a stressful work.  We had a special passes thanks to her ex-husband Lido and got in lickity split but the shock and the horror set in when we saw the line up for beer tokens.  Every 4 ounces of beer was worth a dollar token.  I had enough time to wait in line to figure out 40 dollars would be worth around 5 pints in a standard Toronto pub.  Or so I thought.  I don’t even know how many ounces in a pint and am unsure if they are on the same measuring system, is one imperial and the other metric?  Are their enough toilets in this place for all this beer to go at some point?  As I inched my way toward the front of the line, I smiled smugly to myself knowing that my Tena pad would save the day in case the answer to the last question was no.

Once we got our tokens, I have to say, the rest was a blur.  A super fun blur, I might add.  It was like a giant frat party.  Everyone was young and really drunk.  There were bands, interesting beers to choose from (my favourite was called “Dead Elephant”), and really great food including Edo’s 7 dollar Kobe hotdog that I had at The Ex last year and raved about, Oyster Boys shucked by girl shuckers, AND the beacon, the star of my summer, the object of my affections:  The Caplansky Truck.  I don’t really know how many ounces of beers we drank, I do know that I have a bunch of leftover tokens so my math is not so good.  And then I realized when do I actually drink 5 pints of beer?  Never!  Or hardly ever! Lol!  More ridiculous math and geometry:  A 26-year-old guy asked for my phone number and I gave it to him in the correct order because why not? Cougars rule!  I think the perfect weather and the crescent-shaped moon put everyone in a great mood.   A few more fun things happened but I can`t say because my mother reads this but at least I still have my plastic cup.  All I have to say is there is something about copious amounts of beer that  gives you license to lose your dignity and not feel bad about it the next day.  It`s the Canadian way!



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