Give me a Z

I came across a little news blurb about Zima the other day. It seems that Coors recently stopped making the clear beer. Actually, according to Wikipedia it wasn't a beer but an alcopop--whatever that is. I feel for the underage drinkers out there who must now be in a state of mourning at the loss of the alcohol that they could openly drink while claiming it was 7-Up. Well, I guess there's still Vodka, but that doesn't go down quite as smoothly. And it's not carbonated. Forget I mentioned it.

Point, must get to the point which is this: whenever I hear the word Zima, I always think of my friend Amy. Here's Amy:

No, Amy was not really a big Zima drinker, so why do I think of her when I hear the word? Well, let me take you back, way back, back into time--perhaps to the summer of 1997 or maybe 1998. One of those 90's summers. Amy and I, and a few others headed up to Coca Cola Starlake Amphitheater (which has since changed it's name) to rock out at X-fest. Before the concert, we were tailgating with our skittles and Zimas when some drunk guy who could be the poster child for tools everywhere came over and started hitting on us. Amy being the clown she is was actually attempting to engage this guy in conversation. All of the sudden, he asks why we're drinking Zimas. Amy gives some reply and offers him one. He declines using the following phrase which will forever be burned into my brain:

"No, man. Zima makes you Im-pee-tent"

We should have force-fed him some and spared women everywhere.