Carlo Rossi Paisano

Snakes

I love them. Carlo Rossi has little to do with it. I am listening to Teen Dream by Beach House and my kitten magoo is deciding whether or not to end its life as it turns on my floor. She contents herself with watching the record player obsessively. Perhaps she keeps it going. USED TO BEEEEEEEEEEEE….USED TO BEEEEEEEEEE…

Josh let me take his snakies to a party where they shat on my dress and scared the living shit out of me as well, but much less so after I discovered why I had watery pink grit going down my front…Sasha and Uri are just…just. Beautiful.



Drink this wine! Drink it when stars run out of your control and your feet lead you up illegal ramps into the night.

Bella Sera Pinot Noir

Today was picture day! My roommates and I had our Spring Bluebonnet Family Portraits done today (pics to follow).

I made a cake. It was to celebrate my roommate Carol getting 3rd place Masters in the rock-climbing competition yesterday. The kuchen was gluten-free. Thanks for leaving the mix, Oh Snap! It has pretty much ruined me for regular cake. Something about the texture…oh wait…it has one! That’s the difference. Most cake-mixes are so fine and refined and such that they don’t even really have anything for your mouth to grab onto. But this one, this Red Mills Vanilla Cake Mix, this one was delicious. I put a bit of orange extract in it to lighten things up and made a basic chocolate buttercream frosting for’t.



More later. I start work at 7am these days.

Drink this wine when you are tired of typing.

Gabbiano Chianti

Wal-Blah

In the Blue Haze of Commercialism (I shop there, it’s true, I just refuse to give them the satisfaction of another brand-recognition link), I am useless. Specifically, when I wear house-shoes. I mean, it’s the perfect place to wear them, for a number of reasons. Comfort, stereotype, and most of all, the floors. I slip around, run, skip, do fancy pirouettes in the pasta aisle, and generally become that guy. That guy who doesn’t notice a fuck about the busy, harangued and possibly-feeling-guilty-for-shopping-there pedestrians who just want to get their Digiorno and canned lemonade and gtfo. I’m sorry, those people! I have slidey shoes on! At least I am not that young lady wearing a karate uniform while driving a scooter.



yeah, some things don’t change.

Drink Gabbiano Chianti. Drink it when you want to caricature yourself in the Triscuit aisle.

Sterling Vintners Collection Cabernet Sauvignon

I completely forgot this wine.

Good times, eh?

On Monday, when the other two thirds of a new and glorious online triumvirate (pronounce it with a W, cause That’s More Fun) came up to visit me here in D-Town, I purchased a bottle of cabernet sauvignon* again. I know what you are thinking, this wine is too manly for me. Yeah. It was. You are right.

Thanks to Farmers Get To Work More In The Spring Time, we still had a bit of afternoon to enjoy, so we sat around in my backyard with said cab sauv and jammed around with a guitar, a mountain dulcimer and a few extremely impressive cameras. I am so intimidated by such monstrous and phallic pieces of optical machinery (Carlynne’s camera literally has buttons, levers, switches, zippers, trapdoors, hidden staircases and even a miniature sword tucked under the enormous battery pack) that I just noodle around on the dulcimer and fend off the dog, who is named after a lichen and appreciates cameras as much as the next man. We finish off the bottle and a six-pack of Shiner Double Wheat and Carlynne gets through another 2-3 layers of her ridiculous jaw-breaker lollipop, then we hit the streets.

This is where it gets a bit interesting. I really have no wish to go into florid detail, but the next…6? hours involved snakes, dogs, dreads, beer, waaaaaaaay too many cigarettes, dancing like a fool to Boxcar Bandits, beer, more beer, peeing on public buildings, yet even MORE beer, spending an unprecedented amount of time in the bathroom of Jimmy J’s (were we still drinking beer?), a nap on Scripture St, and a fireman-march to bed. I like to think the evening ended at water shots with Sarah Jaffe, but we all know it was over with the round of tequila purchased by one Motherfucking Zed. So, while I can’t honestly attribute this one to the forgotten cab sauv, I can say it started with that bottle.

Drink this wine to embark upon a memorable night.

I mean, memorable by others.

*Editor’s note: This was a Sterling Vintners Collection CS. The online guide to wines available at my local controversially misogynistic corporate discount store reminded me. Woo.

Lucky Duck Malbec

Drink this wine when the temperature goes from 85 degrees to 40 in a matter of hours.

Drink this wine if you are convinced that birdwatching entails much, much more than just old people in trees with goggles.

Drink this wine when you witness unexpected anarchy over breakfast cereal.

Share this wine to watch it purple teeth and whiten cups.

Drink this wine to Anna Begins.mp3, who has time and time again fucked up your computer in this way or that, but you can’t manage to get rid of her because the base line kills you every time. Clearly I am suffering under delusions of nostalgia, since she has frozen my computer every SINGLE time I try to play or transfer her.

Drinkability. Smoothness. Nothing.

Silence.

Credits to The Motherfucking Zed for this weekend’s wine choice. Grab a copy of his blog before it runs out! They are selling like hotcakes.

Barefoot Pinot Noir

35 Conferette?!

Ho boy, this weekend is already curling around the edges, with me in the middle, sinking into a ball of tired.



I will keep it short, because my last post was a ridiculous drunkety ramble. I suppose that is sort of the point of this blorgarorg, but rambling is not something I do to impress myself.

Buy Barefoot Pinot Noir. Drink it when you want to experience bad metal bands or remember life through a fish-eye lens. Guys, don’t drink this wine. It’s terrible! I usually like Barefoot. Their red zin is one of my go-to wines. But seriously, I’d rather recommend a foot powder to sprinkle on your salad than this Pinot Noir.