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Molly Snyder may be a "disgrace to Milwaukee" but even she admits I take the cake on this one – I hate beer.

Always have, and presumably, always will.

Why? Three words – unexpected Old Style.

It ruined beer forever for me, though judging by the hangovers of those I drive around, I'm not missing much.

Here's the story:

As a kid, junior high aged (maybe younger), we had the "garage fridge" that housed the extra gallon of milk, pop and of course, beer. The garage fridge had a certain order – extra milk and juice top shelf, beer bottom shelf, soda on the door.

On a hot summer day me and my buddies were playing basketball in the yard and I needed some cool refreshment – so I opened the garage fridge and blindly reached for a can on the door. I assume I was talking trash to someone because I never actually looked at what I taking – or opening – or taking a huge swig of – until the most awful taste I could ever imagine washed down my throat.

Ever since then, every beer I've ever tasted takes me back to that moment. And trust me, I've tried – everything from Miller Lite to Spotted Cow to assorted Leinenkugel's to Guinness.

All of it tastes like liquid garbage.

Now I tend to avoid it altogether. I'll occasionally try one if it's strongly recommended, but I've sort of moved to the point that I expect awfulness, so that's what I taste.

So, don't worry Molly – I'll trade you a brat for any beer, ever.