Jul
13
2012

Field-test: BasketPong

—Christian

Being an avid (and sometimes accomplished) beer pong player, I was delighted when The Alcohol Enthusiast received a BasketPong set to try out. As you can see in the photo above, it’s essentially the love child of basketball and beer pong. To effectively test it out, we obviously needed more than just Josey and I, so we featured it prominently at our recent Camp 77 party. Read more »


Nov
21
2011

The Cocktail Party

—Christian

With less than a year before the next presidential election, a political organization from down in Atlanta has a revolutionary idea for how to fix our country. Self-described as an “anti-movement,” this group of artists/poets/philosophers/etc. dubs themselves “The Cocktail Party” (cheers!). At their core, the group believes true political discourse has fallen by the wayside with our country suffering as a result. The solution? Cocktails, of course. And they provide some sound reasoning for this recommendation.
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Oct
28
2011

The home bar: Part 1

—Christian

Every September San Francisco is host to a wondrous occasion know as Cocktail Week. Classes, lectures and bar-hosted events are held all around the city. This past cocktail week your humble Enthusiasts attended a seminar on a topic that has always been of great interest to me: the home bar.

Our gracious hosts were none other than Jon Santer­—founder of Bourbon and Branch (among many other prolific San Francisco bars) and David Nepove, aka Mister Mojito—currently a bar advisor by trade, but a long-time San Francisco cocktail guru. Between the two of them, it’s needless to say we were in good hands.

In this multi-part series I will take you through everything we learned. From how to build a bar; to the tools you’ll need to outfit it with; to the various ingredients you’ll want to keep behind it. In Part One we cover the bar itself. And depending on budget, the sky really is the limit.
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Jul
05
2011

Win tickets: Moonshine launch party in SF

Thanks to everyone who entered the haiku contest! The contest is over and the winners’ haiku can be read in the comments of this post. Cheers!
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Jul
01
2011

The Drunkest I’ve Ever Been: The exciting conclusion of 2010

—Zip

I work at the One Union recording studio. One year, our annual Christmas party was to be followed by a recording session at 2am. Turns out we were connecting to Cape Town, South Africa to record “Ninja” from Die Antwoord. It was noon there.

The fancy shmancy restaurant we go to for dinner every year is Jardiniere, by the opera house. They pour drinks with a heavy hand! We all had some whiskey at the office before the party, and once there I indulged in my usual drinking of the oldest and most expensive scotch they have available (it’s on the boss’ tab!) The dinner went well, was really fun, and Jesus those scotches were huge! We ate scallops, steak, risotto, holy shit, tons of buttery french shit piled up on top of all that booze. I drank like an asshole even though I knew I had an overnight session coming up.
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May
20
2011

The Lebowski party

—Christian and Josey


“Just, uh, slip the rent under my door…”

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Apr
04
2011

An Enthusiasts’ Guide to throwing a hotel afterparty

—Josey

There’s an event—maybe a show. Or a birthday party, or a New Year’s. Or a Halloween. And it’s out of town. Or it’s in the same city where you live, but on the other side of town, too far to drunk-stumble home from, and in a neighborhood devoid of cabs past last call. Or it’s next door, but your upstairs neighbor calls the cops when there’s more than four feet wandering the rugs past 11pm.

And then when last call is called or the cash runs out or it’s time for a more intimate setting or some better music or to change out of whatever hot-but-miserable outfit you’ve donned for the celebration—we retire to the hotel afterparty.
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Dec
28
2010

Diaries of a cigarette girl: Part 5

—Chelsea

Guest writer Chelsea regales us with her first forays into the wild world of booze in this multipart series.

Working as a cigarette girl is only partially about selling cigarettes. It’s much more about selling yourself. A Peachy Puff is a product, and when a customer buys a pack of cigarettes from her, he’s also buying her company. It’s a form of very short-term, platonic prostitution. This is where it came in handy to be witty, funny, and exciting, because these things were the real wares we were peddling, much more so than the packs of gum and the disposable lighters. But this could cause some confusion about the role of a Puff as well; we were propositioned often, if not nightly.

I can’t tell you how many times people tried to pay me to party with them at someone’s house after the bars closed. I remember one guy drunkenly trying to convince me to come play a late-night game of tennis, with complete sincerity. But sometimes, people were looking for more than just friendly company. Once, a man with a thick accent and an old-fashioned pinstripe suit and hat pulled me over to sit next to him. He wrapped his arm around me, telling me that he wanted me to come back to his hotel room with him. “I have a jacuzzi in my room,” he offered. “You don’t have to take all your clothes off, just wear your panties.” He pulled out a huge wad of hundred dollar bills—more than I had ever seen in my life—and waved it in front of my face, saying “Don’t you want this? Take it.” I quickly removed his arm from around my shoulders, smiling nervously, and hurried off.

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Dec
14
2010

Music for Enthusiasts: From Hey Ya! ‘Till the last Sweet Thing’s standing

—Josey

What makes a good drinking song? From first shot to sunrise bottle-swig, here are a few of my wasted favorites.

1) Hey Ya!, André 3000. Two words: Col-lege. Commence frantic, awkward arm-and-leg flailing and vigorous, desperate grabbing at anybody within appendage-reach. Well, that’s what I did when this song played at parties, anyways. Call and response lyrics encourage the boisterous participatory shouting we drunks assume is necessary no matter what song (or lack thereof) is playing. And Mr. 300o’s commands that the soaked and seething mass of booze-sweating bodies “shake it like a Polaroid picture” is the second olive in the dirty martini. Get ready to un-tag some pictures tomorrow morning.


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Jul
06
2010

Enthusiastic entrepreneur

 
Sometimes you can take a good thing too far. In college I decided to man the helm of a weekly Wednesday on-campus celebration known as 40s Night. Typically this tradition started during orientation week and served as a way for the freshmen to meet the upper classes in a jovial and quite enthusiastic environment. It would continue throughout the first month of school before petering out as the Portland weather turned sour and everyone became entrenched in classwork. This particular year however, I was taking a semester off. And, through circumstance to be discussed at a later date, was not gainfully employed. Needless to say, I had a fair amount of free time on my hands.

Through the Enthusiast network at our school, I found out that one could obtain 40s of PBR at a very reasonable rate from a liquor distributor on the other side of town. Each week we would scrape together $100 or so, secure a vehicle, and make our pilgrimage.

The first week we were busted by campus security hiding the bottles in a freshman’s first floor room. So for the following week I devised a method of not only keeping the beer hidden, but keeping it cold and mobile at the same time. Every Wednesday we’d secure a large, rolling recycling bin, empty the contents, and line it with a garbage bag. Then we would load in the bottles, surrounding each successive layer with ice. At about 10 pm, after a couple of hours of chilling, we’d roll the thing over to our designated location and open up shop. The cut-rate supplier combined with fair, but inflated pricing allowed for over 100% profit—in no time I would make back the initial investment and then some, drinking for free all the while.

These were some of my happiest times in college. I quickly became know as The-Fucking-Man on campus and made some lifelong friendships with the entering class of that year. Weeks went by and campus authorities started to get annoyed by the Wednesday night complaints from people “trying to study” and who were “getting distracted” by the baudy noise that came from our revelry. Eventually I was told by the class president that the noise was a real problem and we had to do something about it. Rather than take this as a sign that it was time to shut it down, I just moved us to the Student Union where we could close the doors and minimize noise.

A handful more weeks went by and campus emptied out for Fall break. By this time, the administration had really started to put the heat on 40s night and  I was squarely at the center of the issue. I was determined that we should have one last, good run and intended to call the whole thing off when everyone got back. But the damage had been done. One thing led to another and, non-student that I was, I got banned from campus for the remainder of the semester.

Our school had a notoriously forgiving policy towards that type of thing, but I had clearly crossed a line. Naturally, as an Enthusiast, this is a line that I crossed on a handful of other, unrelated occasions in the future, but I did learn a valuable lesson from that first time. No matter how awesome an idea, and how well executed, you can’t fly too close to the sun without getting burned. That said, I was fortunate that even at that high altitude, I managed to only singe my wings, rather than go down in a ball of flame. In the end, I will forever look back on those nights of 40s fondly—as my most successful (drunken) venture to-date.

 
—Christian

Case of PBR photo courtesy of 40ozmaltliquor.com.
Recycling bins photo courtesy of Dano, flickr.
No Trespassing photo courtesy of Daquella Manera, flickr.

 


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