Falcons, hawks, vultures, buzzards, shikras, kites, caracaras; hell, a lesbian can be any bird of prey.
“My beer defies the traditional expectations of a ‘girl’s beer.'”
“Diaper-clad, I make my way over to the coffee table, grab the can between my stubby little hands, and in one fell swoop, dump the sudsy brew all over my head.” And so it begins.
In which I suggest some crafty alternatives to the brews you already know and love.
“The odds were against these early brewers. But, just like us resilient queers, these folks survived on love, pride and an enduring devotion to community building.”