I wanted to share a recipe with you that I found (probably on Pinterest) and can take no credit for. However, I definitely took bragging rights the night I made this delectable pulled chicken. If I hadn't known that it was chicken, I would have never known that it wasn't a good cut of pork. You can find this recipe here:
http://www.howsweeteats.com/2011/10/crockpot-bbq-beer-chicken/
She used an amber beer, whereas, I used an American pale wheat ale called Gumballhead from Three Floyds Brewery in Munster, IN. You can use a little less beer then 8oz if you want too, only because when I made this recipe, it was a little TOO juicy to the point where it was almost disintegrating the bun while you were trying to eat it. So I would suggest using maybe a little under a can of a beer, but that is up to you. The beer was very distinctable among the other ingredients, so I wouldn't use a milk stout or a chocolaty beer.
Moving along, I'm not sure if you've read my past posts about my uncommon love for someone my age, with the Monkees. It sounds funny even saying it out loud, or typing it on the keyboard with my sausage fingers. To reiterate, despite their most popular era being the late 60's, that did not and still doesn't sway me in the least. I grew up normally. I had a My Little Ponies palace with a swimming pool, and played with Polly Pockets. I frequented in dumping Lego's on my floor and pulling the pants off of all of my Barbies. I also loved dinosaurs, my Sega, and my beanbag chairs. I just happened to also grow up with a father who explained a few things to me at an early age. Don't open doors for strangers, rap is crap, and the Beatles were the best band in history and always will be. I also learned every word to the Queen greatest hits album when I was a kid because that's what we listen too on our way to Yogi Bear Campground. Music has just been a part of growing up for me.
When I was about 8, around Christmas time, an extremely large object was being housed in our family room with a sheet over it. My dad told me it was a carousel horse for my mom like the one we would always see driving along Route 50. I believed it. Christmas came, and under that sheet was no carousel, but a piano--for me. I loved to belt out the most obnoxious of songs and thought I was a regular Beethoven. A few years later, my dad took me on a trip to Guitar Center and had me pick out a guitar. It was an acoustic Ovation, with a natural wood finish, and was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. He took me to guitar lessons and instead of teaching me notes, the instructor would just teach me Beatles songs. Looking back on it, I wish he'd actually had taught me notes, but it didn't matter to me, I was shredding my guitar with my 10 year old sausage fingers and loving every minute of it.
Shortly after this, I was watching (probably Nick at Nite at the time), and the Monkees came on. That was it. Just one episode of the Monkees is all it took and they became such an icon in my life. I would watch their shows and movies and learn different chords on my guitar from them. I was by far, the nerdiest kid ever. They stuck with me into my adulthood, my guitar came with too. At one point, while struggling to pay bills, I considered selling my guitar and even got a quote on it, but then realized I'd rather be homeless then sell it.
This last November (2012), I dragged Ben to a Monkees reunion tour after Davy passing away. I somehow managed to get 4th row pit seats, which I feel like I deserved. The pit only sat about 30 people, and was a section where the orchestra would sit normally. Ben and I sat right next to the small staircase up to the sage, which you can somewhat see in this terribly dark picture of us...
...but you can see how close we were. The seats wrapped around in a banana shape too, so although we were in the 4th row, we were only about 6 feet from the stage.
The pictures don't even do this justice. There were a few times where Micky was so close to us, I could have reached out and shook his hand (which I was hoping for). I thought my arm was going to fly out of the socket when he asked for a 'guest singer' during Daydream Believer. I would have immediately overcome my fear of singing in front of people to have that opportunity. That part was staged I believe though, because the 'guest' he picked (which happened to be the guy right in front of us), was just too calm up there. I guess it's good he didn't pick me, because I probably would have just stood there, starstruck, and cried. Ben would have had to come get me off the stage.
So overall, we left that night and I felt very accomplished. It was so amazing to see them (again) in person after so many times of only seeing them on TV, and not just from distance, but only a few feet away. Davy was missed, but they did a great job keeping him "in the show", by playing videos with him in it and having the band play along. I got to see him in 98' too, so I've seen them all collectively. I sat in the nosebleed section at a Paul McCartney concert too when I was about 14, despite the seats--the fact that I got to see a remaining Beatle play Beatles songs was surreal to me.
I am fully aware that I was not born in the 50s, and I am a "90's kid". Of course, I broke away from my wannabe hippie life to enjoy the fine fruits of my own time. The Backstreet Boys, Mariah Carey, Nintendo 64 (particularly, Wave Race and Mario 64), and "hanging out" with friends, because "playing" with friends was lame after you hit 12.
But they always stuck with me.
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