I Gotta Get Rid Of This Kegerator

I Gotta Get Rid Of This Kegerator

Right after college, I made a resolution to improve myself. I was going to get in shape, drink less and become a mature adult. I quickly abandoned this awful idea in favor of brisket cheese fries, summer beers and decent friends who don’t love at the gym. Sorry gym rats, but your lives are boring and I don’t want to discuss which protein powder is the best while you sip on your diet gluten free vodka water. Instead, I hung out with friends who enjoyed a good beer or 10 before sending the hot friends to get vegas bombs for free for our group.

I also lived at home during this time, which was close to uptown so my place always ended up as the go to pregame place. Buying six packs that go empty after an hour got annoying and so does running out of beer. After singlehandedly contributing enough cans to recycling to build a skyscraper, I decided on the best idea a man can think of in November of 2015.

I bought a kegerator.

It was and still is the most American thing to do. I had whatever beer I wanted on tap, paid for by Venmo requests to friends. Not only did I have perfectly cold beers (33 degrees in the fridge at all times), but because it was converted from a fridge, I had a freezer for ice cold glasses too. My house became the life of the party. Many nights we wouldn’t even make it out of the house. Soon I realized that I needed a stout, and without the nitro tap, I might as well drink swill.

So I expanded, and the fridge grew. I added another tap just in time for the three chilly months in Texas (read below 70 degrees). This may have been the best decision I’ve made since graduating, bar none. As a man who has an adoration for Irish Car bombs, getting Left Hand Milk Stout Nitro on tap was incredible. Not only is it a great beer, but it takes the flavor in an Irish Car bomb and enhances it. With this extra addition in time for my favorite holiday, St. Patty’s Day, also known as my birthday weekend, the party that was thrown that day has gone down as the most infamous party thrown after graduation. Both kegs were killed, I don’t remember past 10 a.m. (we started at 9 with Chick-fil-a catering), yet somehow I woke up in my bed the next morning.

Later at brunch, I found out that not only had I gone to the bars until closing without using my card once, I was downing free shot after free shot while another friend was nearly getting arrested, among other things that cannot be said in case my parents read this. Needless to say, no hangover. Perhaps my body is amazing at metabolizing alcohol, but I think it was the magic of the kegerator.

Sadly, as with all journeys, it must come to an end. I signed a lease this weekend, so I’m finally leaving the staycation known as living with the parents for far too long. I’ve decided the kegerator and I must part ways. I’ve realized someone else should live the amazing lifestyle the kegerator grants, from being able to pour Firemans Four on a hot summer night, to an ice cold stout to keep you warm around a fire. Even if you aren’t in Dallas, please, look into buying an old fridge and making your own. It’s worth destroying your liver.

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