When I die, bury me in koozies. I'm kidding, of course, but really, I love the little guys. The colorful beverage sweaters stand for all things summer fun: outdoor drinking, pool parties, backyard cookouts, and (duh) beer. You know what? I love beer. I drink it all the time. And let me tell you, you drink enough of the stuff and you too will wind up with quite a koozy collection. Eventually you'll find yourself in my slippers, standing alone in your dingy, neglected kitchen, rooting through drawers in search of a meat thermometer or slotted pasta spoon and, surprise, surprise, all you'll come across is koozy after koozy, stuffed inside every crumby crevice, piled onto every sticky shelf. And then suddenly, with each hand stuffed mitten-like into a cozy foam sleeve, you'll ask yourself, "Do these things even work, though?"