Love The Wine You're With

My Dear Winos,

Hello, and welcome. I hope you are feeling nice right about now, as we explore tonight's topic:

You Can't Hurry Love


This past weekend was bottle #2 in my journey through the middens of grapedom, punctuated by beer, which was an unfortunate side-affect of bingo night at Bingo Wonderland with some old and some new friends in North Houston. I had such a blast. Bingo halls are what I consider to be the perfect microcosm of America at its most...well, American. Immigrants, forgive the presumption, but I kinda know now how it feels to arrive unexpected in a foreign place in the middle of everyone determinedly trying to make $12 turn into $600.



Anyway. The next night, some of the us (Carlynne, Zac and myself) suited up in fine style (Retail Casual and Pauncho Chic) to attend Zac's show up in Huntsville, at the upstanding-and-quite-responsibly-supervised all-ages club right next to the Mason Lodge. He plays the computer in The Fatal Exception, which is a super-duper band filled with diddly-diddies, MMM-sah MMM-sahs and pure, unapologetic awesome. Maybe a little apologetic, but that's only because some dancing daisy in the front kept kicking out the connector cable. His wacky physical antics made up for it for sure, though. Very cool stuff, so imagine my extreme pleasure and gratitude when I was formally asked by the front-man to dance on stage for the show. Enter tonight's host, Mr. Fetzer Cabernet Sauvignon.

Picked up at my local, newly fancy Wal-Mart, this $8 bottle features a rich and robust heft and an extra rocket pack designed to send any lady in a way-long skirt into about 40 million dizzying flash-bulb circles. Like a true strong and manly icon, the cab sauv left me in the early morning, scribbling an uncomplicated apology all down the back roads of Conroe. Buy this wine! Drink it in your local seedy back alley parking lot while, once again, everyone else drinks Big Flats. Inescapable. I swear.