Kegged off in a dream world

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Can you keep a secret? I didn't leave our newsroom's recent post-Christmas party alone.

And I actually left with more than one.

I know, I know, I'm a married man with a small child, and you're disappointed and disgusted.

Mom ... Mom ... come back. Please keep reading.

But before you or anyone else accuses me of adultery or howls "dirtbag" my way, let's get one thing clear - I didn't leave the party with two girls.

No, I exited with something even better for a man of my marital status - TWO KEGS!

You see, as one of the last to leave, it was suggested I take home the remaining beer.

I had, after all, bought the barrels through a neighbour who has the fourth best job in the world - beer truck driver. The only better professions are: 1) rock star, 2) captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, and 3) taste tester at Ches's.

Anyway, my colleagues never had to twist my rubber hose or plead with me to accept the ale.

I gladly took this one for the team, and had the kegs loaded into the back of a taxi before the colleague finished her sentence. (I wasn't trying to be rude. I just didn't want to stick around in case she changed her mind.)

On the way home, it was a real kegs to riches story, like I had scratched a Set For Life winner or had a large parcel of undeveloped land on the Northeast Avalon.

Imagine, two half-full barrels of brew at my house!

Cue the classic and sing with me, "Beer, beer, beer, beer, beer." I was about to have a beerfest, a frothy festival, a lager love-in.

But now to the more-ale of today's column: the best-made plans don't always pan out, even when they're centred around kegs of free beer.

Over the next week, there was a lot of beer drunk at my house. Things were chugging right along. In fact, I spent so much time with the barrels I gave them names: Keg Jackson, after my boss, Craig Jackson; and Darin Keg, after the always-in-the-news-lately fisheries minister.

I thought about changing my name to "Steve Keg," but didn't to avoid being confused with the MHA for Mount Pearl North.

So, I'm now legally - and, in the eyes of Canada Revenue Agency, just in time for my 2011 return" — "Steve Beerlett."

Anyway despite a valiant attempt, I wasn't able to empty both kegs before the beer went flat.

I still kept drinking though, because guys don't waste beer.

But finally and sadly, after downing a glass that tasted like wet dog smell this weekend, I finally tapped out and told my neighbour I was done.

It was kind of a relief to surrender, though. I was tired of all that beer pressure.

The name "Steve Beerlett" is available on Facebook and Twitter. However, you can still reach him at sbartlett@thetelegram.com or follow his Tweets at SteveBartlett_

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