NATURAL LIGHT BEER T SHIRTS - BEER T SHIRTS

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  • Anheuser-Busch, a wholly-owned subsidiary of Anheuser-Busch InBev, is the largest brewing company in the United States, with a market share of 49.2%. The company operates 12 breweries in the United States and nearly 20 in other countries.
  • (Natural Lighting) the existing outdoor light available.
  • (Natural lighting) Sunlight, in the broad sense, is the total frequency spectrum of electromagnetic radiation given off by the Sun. On Earth, sunlight is filtered through the Earth's atmosphere, and solar radiation is obvious as daylight when the Sun is above the horizon.
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  • A short-sleeved casual top, generally made of cotton, having the shape of a T when spread out flat
  • (t-shirt) jersey: a close-fitting pullover shirt
  • A T-shirt (T shirt or tee) is a shirt which is pulled on over the head to cover most of a person's torso. A T-shirt is usually buttonless and collarless, with a round neck and short sleeves.
  • (T Shirt (album)) T Shirt is a 1976 album by Loudon Wainwright III. Unlike his earlier records, this (and the subsequent 'Final Exam') saw Wainwright adopt a full blown rock band (Slowtrain) - though there are acoustic songs on T-Shirt, including a talking blues.
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  • An alcoholic drink made from yeast-fermented malt flavored with hops
  • a general name for alcoholic beverages made by fermenting a cereal (or mixture of cereals) flavored with hops
  • Any of several other fermented drinks
  • Beer is the world's most widely consumed and probably the oldest of alcoholic beverages; it is the third most popular drink overall, after water and tea.
  • "Beer" is the fifth episode of the BBC sitcom Blackadder II, the second series of Blackadder, which was set in Elizabethan England from 1558 to 1603.

Leaving Beijing
Leaving Beijing
I am travelling from Beijing to Shanghai, tonight, on a sleeper train. I have been in Beijing for four nights, and almost five days. I've been very busy seeing the sights, so I haven't posted for a few days. I find that if I spend a lot of time uploading photos, I don't manage to write very much, so I will concentrate on writing, for this post. Beijing is a modern city. It is not too different from cities in other countries, especially if you go to the "luxury" shopping areas. I also see many other foreigners here. I expect that Shanghai will be similar. Day One: Arrive in Beijing at 6:45am. It is very cold and windy. I take a bus from the train station to Leo Hostel, and check in. Because of the China-Africa Summit, Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City are closed. It is also really, really cold, so I have little motivation to go sightseeing. I go shopping, instead. In the evening, I go to see the Acrobat Show. Some of the acts are quite amazing. Day Two: I spend a chilly day touring the Forbidden City. Unfortunately, some of the most significant building in the Forbidden City are under restoration for the 2008 Olympics, and are enclosed in scaffolding. The Forbidden City is mostly a collection of similar-looking buildings. In its current form, many of the buildings house historical objects, like a museum. There are also some small gardens. I thought actual living quarters of the emperors, empresses, and concubines were more interesting than the more "official" buildings. Even with the "sameness", I still spend most of the day touring around. In the evening, I go to see the Kung-Fu Show. I didn't really know what to expect when I booked it: will it be a bunch of guys breaking bricks, or performing staged fights? The Kung-Fu show is reminiscent of the type of show that Cirque du Soleil performs. It has beautiful stage and lighting design. The music is modern. The show has a theme and storyline, which follows a young monk from his initiation into the Shaolin Temple until he reaches enlightenment and becomes a "warrior monk". It is really more like a dance show, which highlights the "forms" that make up Kung-Fu. There is no fighting in the Kung-Fu show, but the performers do break some metal bars on their heads! There are also some impressive acrobatics. Overall, the Kung-Fu Show was the most entertaining of the three evening performances I have seen. Day Three: Tour to "The Secret Great Wall". This is an "exclusive" to Leo Hostel. Eleven of us go to a section of the Great Wall which is unrestored and undeveloped for tourists. One member of party says that Leo grew up in the village that we hike from. The weather is better. Not so windy. I had talked to some people who had gone the day before, and they were miserable. A van drives us out to village, which takes about 2.5 hours. On the way, we pass Badaling, which is the closest and most touristy Great Wall location. It has a cable car. A local person, who speaks no English, guides us along a trail. We can see the wall, high above us. We have to climb about 550m to our final destination, which is a guard tower. In 45 minutes we reach a section of the wall, and it takes another 45 to reach the guard tower. Along the way, I ask the guide if he does this climb every day ("Ni zoutian, jingtian, mingtian, houtian" (You yesterday, today, tomorrow, next day) and gesture walking up and down. He nods, "Yes." When we return to the village, ten different dishes of local food are awaiting us for a delicious lunch. We see no other tourists around the area. I juggle apples for the children. In the evening, I go to the Beijing Opera. Two different stories are presented. Each is done in a very traditional style: the stage is lit evenly with white light, and there are no props except for what is absolutely necessary. The first story involves mistaken identity, and is mostly a fight between two characters in a completely dark room. The actors have to pretend that they cannot see each other. The fight is played up for its comedy. The second story is about a water nymph who marries a human, and then has to go to war with the gods, who disapprove. This involves some very interesting stage fighting and acrobatics. The stage fighting is completely stylized (ie. no real "contact fighting"). At one point, the actress playing the water nymph is surrounded by actors who toss spears at her, and she kicks them back with amazing accuracy and dexterity. Chinese opera is very symbolic. The costumes have meaning, as do the face painting, movements, gestures, etc. It is difficult to fully understand what is happening without knowing all of the symbolic background. However, it was still very enjoyable. The first story had no "shrill" singing - the actors sang in their natural voices -, and the second had only a sm
(Sunday cont.) Wasting Hours. It was the blue house on N Bentley Avenue that I was looking for. Rows and columns of suburban homes stretched down both sides of the block. I drove slowly and paid careful attention the house numbers. There is a Toyota Sienna was parked on the driveway underneath a basketball hoop. An immaculate front lawn. It was my second time here. Last time, Doug and Connie picked me up at the Amtrak station in Los Angeles. Why was I in Los Angeles? I remembered we had lunch in Chinatown and walked along the Santa Monica pier later in the afternoon. It was a warm day. Doug and I brought spray cans and we blew our names up on the concrete walls set along the beach. I thought it’d cheer him up; we could be kids hanging out and tagging the rail cars in Roseville again for a few hours. I parked my car on the curb and reached for a t-shirt in the gym bag I kept in the backseat. I use to go the gym before. Looking in the rear-view mirror, I also remembered that I had not shaved. I was wearing the same clothes that I wrote to see Alice on Saturday. The inside of the collar was dark it smelled like McDonald's, alcohol and cigarette smoke. This is why I was changing into a t-shirt: it took seeing someone I cared for, for me to be conscious of my physical appearance. I walked up to the door and called Doug. Connie picked up. “I’m here,” I said. “John! We’ll be right out.” She was excited but I knew it was a pretend excitement, the kind of air you put on when you bump into an old acquittance while wandering in a shopping mall. Or some place like that. The doors were painted dark green. The same as the door of our childhood home in San Jose. Doug and I worked on it with our dad during a holiday. I do not remember which one. I only remember that it was a holiday because were off from school. My dad was singing a Teresa Teng song in a soft wavering voice. Except to mock his own singing voice, or when drunk, he rarely sang. After the first few verses, his voice grew louder. When one of the choruses came, Doug looked at me, we were imagining, with some embarrassment, that the neighbors across the street could hear him. But we took it as a sign that he was happy and enjoying doing something with his boys. Thinking about this, I leaned my weight into the paint roller and even Doug look renewed. How old were we? I don’t remember. I only remember that we were painting the front door and our dad was happy singing Teresa Teng. Later on, when I suddenly told him I was flying to Taiwan. He said, “Teresa Teng sang about Taiwan once.” “What was it about?” “A mountain called Alishan.” Standing in front of the Doug and Connie’s house and remember this, I regret not sending him a postcard from there. “When I was younger, listening to her gave me strength,” he said about her songs. Doug and Connie opened the double French doors in unison. The evening sunlight funneled into the entryway like going through a canal. “John,” Doug said. His face was grim but full of compassion. I recalled how I felt when I looked at myself in the rear view mirror. He took a step forward, hitched, and put his arms around me. I squeezed a shoulder. “What’s up buddy.” He looked me in the eye. We had always been around the same height throughout most of our life. Before he lost his leg. I can’t remember the last time he looked at me this way, on the same plane of sight. “I’m out of the chair now.” He smiled and pointed at the prosthetic leg underneath his basketball shorts. It looked real; it looked as if it was trying to be. “You okay man?” “Don’t worry about it. Just a long drive.” “You sure?” “I’m good. Just tired.” Doug sighed. “Man, it’s good seeing you bro.” “Yeah.” Doug pivoted on his prosthetic leg and led me into the house. “Do you want a beer?” He turned to Connie, “Get John a Heineken from the fridge.” “Are you okay?” Connie looked at me while maker her way to the fridge. The kitchen was adjacent to the entryway of the house. So much concern. I wondered how much of it was my disheveled appearance. Alice had said the same thing on Saturday. When was here, Anne was always asking if I was upset or okay too.Or maybe it was because of whatever discussion Doug and Connie had after I told them I was coming down for a visit, these things don’t happen everyday; after he moved, I barely called. Maybe it was both. We sat down on the sofa. Like the lawn, the inside of their home was immaculate. Everything was squared away. On the mantel above the fireplace were photos of Doug in a formal marine uniform. Wide set jaw, eyes full or purpose. Photos of Junior posing over home-plate in a Pee-Wee league baseball uniform. Same look as his dad. A photo our parents. Old and wrinkly and grinning. The last photo was from my college graduation. Everyone was in it. It was taken in the parking lot outside the university gym. I wondered who I asked to take it, it was someone I knew. Forget it. It didn’t matter. Doug was standing stood n

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