Today is Christmas-in-July, a fakish holiday that I think is only celebrated on South Jersey beaches. The best gift I could give myself is lying in bed for a couple days, after 16 hours of driving, a weekend of camping, wedding and beering in Vermont. And that’s the second-best gift I could have gotten myself: oodles and oodles of bottle caps.

Special thanks to Dave, Jay, Johnny, the Joes and Nick for being exceptional alcoholics.

199 leftover wedding beers made their way from Vermont to Boston to a rest stop in Connecticut to my refrigerator in Jersey.