Beer #27: St. Feuillien Saison or A Sad and Lonely Friday Night

Today was a strange day.  I woke up to about 900 tweets about the new PSU football coach -- heretofore referred to as BOB (Bill O'Brien from the NE Patriots coaching staff).  I managed to get to work (relatively) on time and hold my shit together despite sitting through a 5 1/2 hour meeting and having forgotten to charge my CrackBlackberry overnight.  When I got back to my desk, I opted to get some work done and then made the mistake of checking in on the situation.

People are losing their minds.  Seriously. Losing. Their. Minds.  I just feel hopeless.  I like tradition.  I like a "go to work and get it done" mentality.  I like Linebacker U.  I don't think BOB is going to be my cup of tea.  He's from New England, where I don't think they know what a shirt and tie is.  He coaches Tom Brady.  Do you even have to coach Tom Brady?

I actually kind of feel sorry for him.  It has got to suck going into a tight-knit community where everyone - or at least most everyone - has decided they hate you.  I don't hate you, BOB.  I just don't care about you.  I care about the last set of coaches.  I care about the players - even batshit crazy Lavar Arrington who should really learn to keep his trap shut.  So where does that leave us?  Waiting for Penn State to make the official announcement?  Wondering what it's like to be a current player and still not have heard from the University?  Being a former player confused about your allegiance?  Being an alumnus/alumna and reconsidering your autumn weekends?  Thinking about all the fun or maybe even responsible things you could do with the money you donate to the Nittany Lion Club or use for football tickets?  I know I am.  I could have a new roof and maybe even new siding.  That trip to Iceland could happen sooner.  I don't know.  I really do not know.

***

With all that weighing on me like a ton of bricks, I came home hell bent on drinking ALL THE BOURBON.  But then I remembered that I blog about beer now.  OK then, beer then bourbon.  At least I had the willpower to avoid the Filet O'Fish.

Sidebar:  When searching YouTube for the above video, I also got four results:  three versions of this commercial and concert footage of Richard Marx performing Right Here Waiting.  What. The. Hell.

St. Feuillien Saison  is my beer of choice this evening.  It's a bottle conditioned saison that pours orange-gold with a slight head in my glass.  It smells fantastic.  You get hops, tartness, some citrus.  Drinking it releases that tang, some pepper, hops.  It has solid carbonation and is almost silky.  This is a solid saison.  Nothing fancy.  This is why the Belgians are known for their saisons.  They kind of know what they are doing.

Cheers to me and my sad, lonely Friday night.  Gary has a half bottle of beer and leftover turkey hoagie until I get into the bourbon.  Start your clocks now.