Word: beers
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 2000-2009
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...this film. Faces jump off the screen and leech into your memory. Homer, a round-faced Freddy Fender type, and Tommy, the Valentino wannabe, and Yvonne, despair stamped on her prettiness. At the Ritz, bit players become stars for a second, like the toothless gent sucking on a beer bottle. Mackenzie's sense of portraiture is less stark and sensational than that of his contemporaries Robert Frank, Diane Arbus and Weegie, less hagiographic than the work of his predecessor Edward Curtis (whose photographs of Amerindians provide the film's opening montage). He just knows how to choose faces, how long...
...single-serving combination of a depressant (alcohol) and various stimulants carries a certain nightclub logic; Anheuser-Busch used to advertise its caffeinated beer, Bud Extra, with lines such as YOU CAN SLEEP WHEN YOU'RE 30 and WE SUGGEST 18-HOUR MASCARA. But public-health and law-enforcement officials--who have mounted an aggressive campaign against alcoholic energy drinks--worry that drinkers will assume they'll be wired enough to drive home after a long night of consuming these beverages. (More on the science later, but caffeine makes you feel only "wide-awake drunk," as researchers have...
Alcoholic energy drinks are a crime against taste--but worse, they trick your brain into believing you're not as drunk as you are. Bottom line: have a real beer instead. If your beverage of choice carries a silly name like Joose, you're probably too young to drink anyway...
This time the disillusionment started in a neighborhood pub. I met up with a friend there, one with whom I hadn’t had much contact in a while. At first, all was well. The beer was cheap! It was good! My friend was also growing a beard! But then the empty pint glasses started to add up. Something in me turned, and nothing seemed right. This friend—a smart, funny, creative young guy—was still in Portland, living with his parents. As far as I could tell, he wasn’t doing much...
...that same morning, I boarded a plane for a week’s vacation at home in Portland, Ore. Shortly after landing, I was in heaven: not only was I spending time in the beer capital of America as a newly-minted non-minor, but everyone around me was rocking a beard...