7 Reasons

Tag: pints

  • Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Drink Whey More Milk

    Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Drink Whey More Milk

    A man I sit next to at work drinks four pints of skimmed cow juice a day. He chugs it straight out of the bottle like a breast-starved baby and then heartily wipes the back of his hand across his milky mouth, satisfied. He’s a muscular man, a gym freak, and swears by the white stuff as if it’s natures protein shake. I call him Milky Joe.

    Since witnessing the extent of Milky’s namesake consumption, I felt it only right to research the nutritional facts, without skimming any of the details. Was it, like he said, the elixir of youth and should I become a member of the Udderly Fresh Fan Club? If so, how would I cope on a hot day?

    7 Reasons To Drink Whey More Milk

    1.  Whey more protein than your average shake. After a serious workout, the minerals (protein, calcium, zinc, vitamins A, B, iodine, potassium) in a cool glass of moo-tonic can help to soothe the lactic acid woe of muscle cramp. Whey and casein are the most common forms of protein in expensive body building supplements and work to rebuild muscle density after physical activity. Therefore, by drinking more milk, you can look like Jodie Marsh in no time.

    2.  You won’t have a cow, girl (or, No More Bad Mooooods). Being a woman, I’m allowed to admit that we can be irritable thunderstorms of head-biting fury one minute and weeping heaps of vulnerability the next. Don’t blame us, blame PMT (and try putting yourself in our shoes, I mean you don’t have to deal with any of this, I do and I’d like it if you could support me, I’m so sick of you never putting the toilet seat down and eating all the Oreos. No, come back, cuddle me, I love you so much, I’m sorry, I’m a mess, it’s not your fault, what do you mean I look funny when I cry? You’re so insensitive. I hate men. You’ve not got a clue what I’m going through! No, don’t leave, I’m only kidding. You’re so gorgeous. Let’s go to bed.). Luckily, recent studies have shown that a calcium-rich diet may ease the physical and emotional symptoms of PMT, including mood swings, backache and cramps. Emotionally stable girlfriends FTW!

    3.  Have full fat dreams. As the old wives tale goes, drinking milk before bed really does help you to sleep. Hot, cold, warm or tossed over a salad, milk is nature’s Valium. I like mine in a sippy cup with a dash of cinnamon and an episode of In the Night Garden. How about you?

    4.  Look the cream of the crop. Apparently, Cleopatra used to indulge in weekly milk baths to maintain her killer complexion. Packed with vital nutrients for skin, nails and hair, milk is the best source of sustenance for promoting external (and internal) beauty. You can even mix it (powdered, preferably) with a little honey and almond oil to make a do-all body mask of skin polishing goodness. Just make sure you wash it off before going outside or you might become a fast food joint for bumble bees.

    5.  Dairingly pearly whites. Calcium + teeth = reduced cavities, but you knew that already, right? The more milk you drink, the more you’ll get along with the tooth fairy, the more money she’ll bring. Therefore, drinking milk makes you money. Logic.

    6.  Don’t skim over allergies. Unfortunately, lots of babies are affected by an allergy to cow’s milk protein (not to be confused with lactose), which can be a feeding nightmare for new mum’s who can’t rely on their milk factories. If exposed to milk-protein, the baby’s immune system treats the protein as if it were an antigen, attacking the ‘infection’ with antibodies and so causing an allergic reaction. This leads to a screaming baby with runny eyes and itchy skin. However, high quality ELISA kits are being used to analyse milk protein in processed foods and this, ultimately, will improve the allergic milk market. Therefore, more people can join the Udderly Fresh Fan Club which can only be a good thing.

    7.  Milk is food and friend. Due to its extremely high nutritional value, milk is the only beverage in town that can be considered a food. It contains the same nutritious metrics as lots of protein-rich solids and has an ageless ability to nourish, meaning you can garner the benefits of milk from cradle to grave.

    Milk is a companion that can accompany you throughout life, whether you’ve just hit the gym hard or been hit hard by Jim, the white stuff will nourish the pain whenever things turn sour.

    Pun count: 10

  • Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why You Should Build A Pub Shed

    Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why You Should Build A Pub Shed

    Now that 7 Reasons has wound down its daily service, we have been wondering where to keep the 7 Reasons sofa. Then Matthew Wilby got in touch. And he had the solution. A pub shed! We don’t need convincing further, but should you then Matthew has all the reasons you require. Let’s be honest though, who needs reasons? It’s a pub shed!

    7 Reasons Why You Should Build A Pub Shed

    1.  No Walk Home. We all love going to the pub, it’s a great place to enjoy a few too many pints. But you know what we don’t like… the walk home. If you turn your garden sheds into a pub, the walk home is much shorter, unless you have a very, very large garden. But then you might as well build your own pub.

    2.  Recession. We all want to save money and making your own pub shed is the perfect way to save vital pennies. Buying your own beers from the local shop is much cheaper than buying a pint at the local pub and then of course there is the option of inviting all your friends round and telling them to bring the beer.

    3.  Guest List. Your pub shed has a very exclusive guest list – the pub shed gives you power, power to ban, power to invite and power to party. In a pub shed there are no girlfriends, no karaoke, and no teenagers – just good people. A pub shed allows you to have a good time with your friends without having to worry about any other fools turning up.

    4.  Sports. I like watching football in the pub but people are always getting in the way and obstructing the screen when a crucial goal is being scored. The solution is obvious. You guessed it. A pub shed. A pub shed is the perfect location for a flat screen telly with a full Sky Sports package. You can now enjoy your favourite sports without any distraction. And a cold pint too. Though you will have to get up and pour it yourself.

    5.  Comfort. Pubs are great, but don’t you wish they were a bit cosier? The wooden bench is no competition for a comfy, well worn sofa. There are no rules when it comes to pub shed furniture either. You can lounge around on whatever you like. And however you like too. That’s the beauty of a pub shed.

    6.  Last Orders. In a pub shed there is a bell behind the bar. But it is not for last orders. The pub shed frowns on last orders. The bell behind the bar in the pub shed signals the beginning, freedom and shots.

    7.  Spending Time At Home. Many people often worry about their partners going to the pub. Well, a pub shed brings an end to all of that. Spending time at home? You are! You’re in the garden enjoying your home’s latest feature. Pub sheds can also add value to your home. Admittedly nobody has researched this, but if I went to view a house and it had a pub shed, I would definitely pay more for it.

  • 7 Reasons That I Hate The Man At The Pub

    7 Reasons That I Hate The Man At The Pub

    It was all going so well.  All I had to do was go to an unfamiliar pub and meet four friends that were there waiting for me.  But there was a man at the pub who cocked it all up and made everything infuriatingly difficult.  Here are seven reasons that I hate him.

    1.  The Man At The Pub Is In My Way.  Exiting the bar with a pint in my hand and entering a narrow, dimly-lit anteroom with tables and stools situated haphazardly on either side of barely delineated central walkway I walked past a couple of tables and spotted my friends seated approximately two tables away, ahead of me and to the right.  I moved toward them squeezing between the stools on the cluttered walkway.  But there was a problem.  There was a man also squeezing his way through the cluttered throng of drinkers, tables and stools in the opposite direction, heading toward me.  Fairly soon he was in my way.

    2.  The Man At The Pub Moves In The Wrong Direction.  As an Englishman I did what came naturally and stepped to my left as I approached him, in the knowledge that when he moved to his left, there would be sufficient room for us both to pass; assuming that we turned sideways, squeezed in and stopped breathing (because everyone stops breathing when performing this sort of manoeuvre, even though there is no earthly reason for doing so).  But the man didn’t move to his left, he moved to mine (his right).  He was still in my way.

    3.  The Man At The Pub Is Stupid.  No, that’s uncharitable.  He’s not necessarily stupid, I thought.  Perhaps he hails from a country where they drive on the right.  Perhaps he doesn’t drive.  Perhaps he’s drunk; he does, after all, have a pint in his hand.  I did what any other sensible person would do, given that he was to my left.  I stepped to my right.  But at the same moment that I moved to my right, he moved to his left.  We had both moved but were both still blocking each other’s path.  Bugger.

    4.  The Man At The Pub Is Still In My Way.  Oh God, I inexplicably thought, to a being that I don’t believe in, this could go on all night.  This could be one of those occasions where I and a random unwitting partner selected purely by proximity and happenstance perform the tentative and ungainly dance that I know as The Get-The-Hell-Out-Of-My-Way-And-Stop-Shuffling-From-Side-To-Side-In-Front-Of-Me-You-Simpering-Ninny.  A blushing teenage girl and I once performed this dance on a narrow pavement outside of the Lewes branch of Waitrose for a full fifty seconds; replete with breezily uttered apologies, good-natured rolling-of-the-eyes, winsome shrugs and staccato bursts of nervous laughter.  It was excruciating.  I wanted to die.  I wished the ground would open up and swallow me (which would actually have solved the problem).  There was no way I was going to repeat that again.  I resolved not to move any more this time.  “Sorry”, I said to the man with the pint, instinctively, at the same time as he said “sorry” to me.  Ah, I thought, he is English after all.

    5.  The Man At The Pub Is Mysterious.  Then something else hit me.  This man looked vaguely familiar.  We regarded each other for a split-second, but I wasn’t quite sure who he was.  It was one of those moments, when, in the back of your mind, you know that you know a person but for whatever reason – usually to do with seeing them outside of their usual context – you can’t quite place them.  This was perplexing.

    6.  The Man At The Pub Is Confused.  I noticed that my friends – who were frustratingly still ahead of me and to the right, as the man and I were going nowhere, were all looking at me – two were pointing – and roaring with laughter.  They were hysterical.  I failed to see how two grown men trying to get out of each other’s way in a pub was quite that funny, but then I noticed something quite odd.  Although my friends were seated ahead of me and to the right, the sound of their laughter was coming from behind me and to the right.  I turned to face the sound.  My friends were sitting there.  I turned back to face the man blocking my path.  Then I realised why he looked familiar.  He was me.  I was the man in my way.

    7.  The Man At The Pub Is A Laughing Stock.  It turned out that some bright spark had come up with the brilliant idea of covering the entire back wall of a small, dimly lit room with a mirror to make it appear lighter and airier and the customers appear stupider.  As I turned and walked toward the table where my friends were still laughing uproariously, the sniggering barmaid was busy collecting glasses there.  Feeling rather embarrassed and wishing to downplay the act of foolishness that I was slowly realising I would never, ever be allowed to forget I sought a crumb of comfort from her.  “That must happen all the time,” I stated blithely to her.  “No.”  She replied rather haughtily, “that’s never happened before”.  With that, she turned away and walked out of the room, back to the bar, from where we could hear her sobs of laughter for many minutes.  The evening didn’t go well.  Still, as long as I don’t write about it, no one else will ever know.  Oh.  Bugger.