Micheladas.

It's hot out.  Like, really hot.

I don't know what to do!  I want to leave the house, but I don't want to die.  Admittedly, I enjoy the summer.  I like hot dogs and pools and wearing cool sunglasses.  I like inflatable palm trees and beach balls and hot pink bikinis.  A fantasy of mine is to be in an 80's, summertime house party.  I want there to be big, drunk jocks with short cut football jerseys that show their greasy bellies (why did they even do that?) and girls with big hair doing that weird, spazzy 80's dance.  The one with the flailing arms and that kind of skipping thing.  You know what I'm talking about.  Just think about it.  You know exactly what I'm talking about.  There has to be a guy wearing a lampshade, too.  Oh, man, never forget Lampshade Guy.

I don't know where I'm going with this so I'll get to the point ehhh:

I really want to try a "red beer."  What exactly is a "red beer?"

Well, it varies and depends on personal taste, but from what I've gathered, it's a Mexican lager beer mixed with hot sauce, lime and anything else that doesn't sound too appetizing in a beer.  It really is like a Bloody Mary, whereas you substitute vodka for beer. 

Today, I want to try a variation of this concoction -- I'm going to make myself a michelada.  It easily falls under the "red beer" umbrella, featuring a heart helping of hot sauce, beer and little, green limes.  I went with a michelada because the preparation is a little more thorough and delicate than, say, dumping a glob of salsa into a Coors Lite.  Plus, I really like saying "michelada."

Online recipes dictate that to make a michelada, you'll need hot sauce, Worcester sauce, soy sauce, salt and lime.

I want to play bartender, but I don't want to play "guy who buys the stuff for the bartender before the bar opens."  A role like that is too much to handle.  I can only imagine myself lost in the supermarket, aimlessly wandering the aisles, a hollow, shell of a man as I try to figure out what the hell Worcester sauce even is.  So I'm gotta cut a few corners and skip a few steps, blah blah.  It'll still be good.  TRUST ME.

Step 1: Pour beer into a chilled glass.  Preferably, a Mexican lager.

I got Dos Equis.  I like Dos Equis.  My older sister once told me that she thought Dos Equis tasted like tires, which has always made me think of drinking tires when drinking Dos Equis.  Which, oddly enough, hasn't deteriorated my consumption.  I suppose I like the taste of tires?

Step 2: Add a dash hot sauce, or, like...anything that would make the beer red.

I'm gonna use this V8 Spicy Hot, because I want something with a little more oomph than a few drops of hot sauce.  Plus, I don't have any hot sauce on hand. 

I've always been hesitant with V8 (tastes like shit) but the spicier version adds a whole new level of excitement.  It's not as shitty.  The spice masks the shit.  Overall, though, V8 does have it's merits.  In fact, I like knowing that if I drink a small can of the stuff once every six months, I'll absorb all the vitamins and nutrients I'll ever need.  Because that's what it does.  That's what it does for your body.  V8 is magic.

Now, I've seen people use Clamato before, too, which would be nice, but I've already hit my Diarrhea Limit for the week.  Sorry.

Actually, I think that would taste kind of...fun.  An interesting test of taste, if you will.  Hell, Budweiser offers their own "Budweiser and Clamato" in a can, so it can't be that bad if an idea.  But probably is.  I'll save it for next time.

Step 3: Admire and enjoy.

Well, there we have it.  I, of course, didn't bother with Worcester sauce, soy sauce or a salted rim.  It would absolutely make this more interesting and exciting and delicious, but the priority wasn't high enough, I guess.  Fortunately, as is, it tastes pretty alright.  Sure, it's like sipping on watered down, fizzy pizza sauce, but it has a merry, summertime feel to it.  I only use the word "merry" because I'm getting a distinct Christmas vibe with this drink.  I like that.

I like you, michelada.