Sometimes I like to dabble in poetry on the side. Kind of like how I dabbled in lesbianism in college. Now is one of those times (for the poetry, not the lesbianism).
Oh shiny silver can of mine,
So majestic, moist and bright,
You keep my body cool and free,
On a humid summer's night.
And throughout cruel winter's bitter cold
And harsh annoying snow,
You make the short days longer somehow,
So they don't quite blow.
You've been there for me,
Through smiles and tears,
And never judged me–not once!
Through all these crazy years.
Not when I got drunk,
And pissed on my friend's living room floor.
Or when I vomited a little on the front porch,
Then in my bed some more.
Or when I got hammered,
And face-planted into a pile of rocks.
I lost my front tooth that time,
And severely injured my box.
Speaking of vag,
There were also times you got me laid.
Some of them I only remember,
Because my period was delayed.
Oh liquid courage,
Such delicious pale ale.
You've even caused me to make out,
With several hot females.
You make all my bad decisions,
Seem like good ones at the time.
Like karaoke, pole dancing,
And shots of tequila minus the lime.
Flip cup, beer pong, Quarters and Kings,
When it comes to any sort of beveraging,
You, my canned and bottled friend,
Will always reign supreme.