Picture this: You’re casually practicing volleyball at a Malibu beach court with your handsome heterosexual best friend, Chet, discussing the subjects that every straight man thinks about: girls, highlighter shorts, the proper form for a leg press, watching football, and being on the receiving end of anal penetration. As you admire his chiseled abs, two beautiful girls saunter by and nonchalantly ask if you would like to play two-on-two. You and Chet shrug lackadaisically and smirk at one another. Sure, you say. But I warn you, we’re pretty good.
They take off their shirts to reveal their curvaceous figures, toned abs, and silky golden-brown skin. The game gets going, and they’re good. You and Chet are fighting hard. Everyone is sweating and having a great cardio workout. You feel good, great even. One, one…two, two…ten, ten, it’s a tie. This is game point. One of the girls serves, you save it, Chet sets, and it’s all up to you. You jump in the air, calves flexed, your body shivering in reverent anticipation of the spike you are going to drive to win this game. Contact. Line Drive. But wait! She blocks, the ball thuds against the sand. Game over. They won.
You walk away dejectedly with your tail between your legs. You hear a whistle and turn around. The girls are waving you to come back with something ice cold and refreshing in their hands. 95 calories. 2.6 grams of carbs. Michelob Ultra.
Is this your idea of courtship?
It’s mine, but I’m a pretty active guy. Some might say too active. But then again, those critics are probably too fat to do anything but lift Miller Lite to their wretched swollen lips, vainly struggling to fill the deep rift in their soul that only unpopularity and acne scars could have forged. How could they possiblly drink something that has 0.6 more grams of carbs than my beverage of choice? No wonder they all get heart attacks and die.
See, the thing is, I like to stay in shape. When I’m not racing against my supermodel girlfriend in Speedos in the pool or attending advanced yoga classes with my supermodel girlfriend, I’m on my lunch break zooming around downtown with my supermodel girlfriend on rollerblades, going off jumps and causing rebellious havoc in ways only I and a beautiful supermodel girlfriend can.
When I am three-fourths up the face of a backbreaking climb with only small, difficult grips in sight, I want a cool, refreshing prize waiting for me at the top. I also want something waiting for me after a hard set at the gym, while writing slam poetry at a trendy cafe, and in the middle of caddying at an intense golf tournament. I’m extreme, and I need a beverage that is as extreme as me. Like Mountain Dew Code Red. But only something that doesn’t cause cancer.
So you see why this is my beer? How else would I be able to drink after every extreme activity of mine (which is all of them) and still maintain my 1% body fat? I need a beer that has fewer calories than water.
Supermodel Girlfriends. Anal Penetration. Michelob Ultra.
