Beer hotties, cigarrette reps, and the ongoing conspiracy to kill me

Regular drinkers know how expensive it is to go to bars on a regular basis. As a recent college grad, I haven't lost my thirst for delicious, delicious alcohol, but I've yet to pay enough dues to make enough money to afford regular nights out.

Too often I have found myself chugging PBR from the can, with the salty brine of my own tears serving as seasoning, with nary a shred of dignity to get me by.

So when there are specials, whether from the alcohol companies, or the establishments themselves, I like to take advantage.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. My beloved Giants were traveling to take on the Cardinals of Arizona in a matchup of east v. west.

But since I live in the D.C. area, and the Redskins were playing a West Coast team as well, there was no way the G-Men would be on the telly.

So I went to a local watering hole that prides itself on showing every game. I figured while I was there, why not toss back a couple of delicious beverages?

So it's close to halftime, and I am about four large Miller Lites in. Feeling good. Feeling rrrrrrrrrrrrrrreal good.

Then, like a beacon of light, the wave of smelly guys in Redskins jerseys parts, and there are three hotties in referee shirts and short shorts.

Reps for Miller Lite, which happens to be my favorite American-style light pilsner beer, as well as the beer that is responsible for my current sense of scrumtrilescence.

So one of them comes up to be, most likely because she has a thing for guys who grow horrible beards, and asks what I'm drinking.

Of course, I tell her Miller Lite, and what are the odds, that is the same beer whose logo adorns her left titty!

So she gives me this card, and says give this to the bartender for a free beer.

And I'm pretty sure I asked the chick to marry me.

So I get the free bottle of beer, and am somehow not engaged at this point, and then they come up and ask me for my e-mail address.

Tip to all you spamsters out there: Rather than sending me bullshit spam with fake PayPal or bank links, why not use Miller Lite's strategy?

If you get a hot chick to give me free beer, especially if I'm already feeling good, my social security number, bank account information and the title to my car is yours.

So I give them my old college e-mail address, try to set a date for our nuptials, fail at that, try to get another free beer, fail at that, and turn away.

As the ladies walked away, I loudly ordered a Budweiser. Cunts.

So the game progresses, I drink more (non-free) beers, and enjoy another vice of mine: recreational smoking.

I don't really consider myself to be a smoker, but I buy a pack on the weekends some times, because I like to smoke when I drink, especially at a bar.

So I'm lighting up one of North Carolina's finest, a Camel Light, when the bartender comes over and asks me," You see that guy over there?"

Hoping I'm not going to be the go-between for a good ol' man-on-man butt pounding, I hesitantly nod.

"He's a Camel rep, I bet you could get some free shit out of him."

"What's that? I'm sorry I don't speak faggot," I replied.

Well, not really. But it would have been funny.

Instead, I walked over to the guy, lit a delicious Camel cigarette, and blew it into his face, and said, "I am in flavor country."

He didn't get the hint, so I said, "Just smoking a delicious Camel cigarette over here."

That got his attention, although he said I didn't have to be a Camel (or is that pole) smoker to get two free packs.

So I gave him my e-mail, and got two free packs of cancer sticks, even though one was that Camel crush shit.

Now I have three packs I don't want to smoke.

As I left, I gave him my best zinger: "Tell Mr. Reynolds I said hello."

God, I hate myself.