Thug Life & Canned Wine

They say you do what you know and I know how to sneak food and drinks into anything, anywhere!  (I blame my mom who used stick those microwave popcorn bags in her purse when we went to the movies.  Way to set a good example Janie!)  In school I was the sensei.  No matter how strict the teacher, no matter how prominently the “No Food Or Drinks” signs were displayed, I’d down a Ziplock bag of Cheeze-Its before the pledge with nary a chew to be seen.  I was like a snacking ventriloquist, like a snantriloquist!

While I’m proud of all the places I’ve snuck (I don’t care if “snuck” is not a word because “sneaked” sounds stupid) food and drinks into there is one case in particular that sticks out in my mind.  There was the time I brought an entire bottle of wine into Mama Mia.  Let me help you visualize this.  Me (gross!) belting out “Dancing Queen” between Dixie cups of Cab Franc with a singing voice somewhere between Roseanne Barr and the Janis character from friends.

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Introducing The Tipsy Evangelist

I lept from bed today at the crack of 9:30am, blared 90’s rap (still not lovin police!) and tore a belt loop off my jeans trying to pull them up.  Nothing like starting your day with a little self loathing because you spent the weekend inhaling barbecue chicken wings like some ravenous pelican.

After a summer chock-full of Rosé and Champs I’ve finally rediscovered my love for the hard stuff, bold reds.  That’s right kids, don’t let my angelic face and fine spun stories fool you, I’m a cigar loving, Sriracha dousing, Cab chugging broad with a mouth that would make a sailor blush.  And I expect to be treated like a lady dammit!

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Life Lessons With Sauvignon Blanc

First off I want to apologize for my random week and a half of missed posts.  What can I say, blogging is frickin hard yo!  I know for many of you this has been a difficult time as reading my posts are the highlight of your day.  I want to assure all of you that I take my work (art really) very seriously and I intend to keep up my end of the bargain to feed you baby birds every Tuesday and Thursday with the nuggets of wisdom you have come to know and love.  On a side note I want to thank everyone in advance for checking on me to make sure I hadn’t died in some horrible shopping mall escalator accident (or more likely that I wasn’t stooped over in a vineyard with a raging case of purple teeth.)  I haven’t actually received all your voice mails and texts as there is clearly something wrong with my phone but I can only imagine how worried you all were.

Today I have a confession.  For too long I have been dismissive of Sauvignon Blanc.  I’ve avoided it at tastings, balked at it’s mere presence on menus and opted for its slightly sweeter and heavier sister Pinot Grigio.  (I would know as I too have a slightly sweeter and heavier sister.  Hi Mikelle!)  Here’s how it went down.  I found myself in a predicament the other day when purchasing a cheese platter that came with a bottle of wine (otherwise known as dinner.)  My only options were a Merlot (If you’ve ever watched Sideways you understand how I feel about Merlot) or a Sauvignon Blanc.  I guess I’ll do the Sauvignon Blanc I said begrudgingly.

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I don’t stand in front of a mirror every morning (or in my case afternoon) because I’m so in love with my face.  I do it because I’ve gotta take about eighty different products and smear them on my mug so that people will give me the time of day or respect me or at least know that I spend a considerable amount of time watching makeup tutorials on YouTube.  I don’t really think people will like me less (would that be possible??) without a carefully placed brow bone highlight but I know “packaging” is important and wine is no exception.

I’ve purchased plenty of wine because it was given 95 points by Wine Spectator or it was on sale or because some pretentious arse went on and on about it for so long that I bought it just so he would stop saying “unctuous”.  I’ve also bought wine because the bottle was pretty and I am just the sort of superficial person who likes to have a wine rack full of beautiful bottles.  Not surprisingly this strategy has led me to some disappointing purchases but I have also discovered some real gems.

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My Story: Corkscrew

So this is really hard for me to write about.  I know I come off as very sarcastic and flippant but I’ve actually been through some very tough times in my life.  I decided to share this story because I know there will be those reading this who can relate.  If I can help even one person than it was worth me writing this.

A while back I was on my way to a hair appointment.  My hairdresser and I have been friends for over 10 years so I usually come in after hours with a bottle of wine.  We drink and gossip while she does my hair and it’s always a good time.  On this particular day I got to the salon around 7pm and headed straight for their back room (where I keep a stash of wine glasses) and reached into my shoulder bag for the wine.  It’s hard to remember anything after that because I blacked out.  Looking back I’ve been able to piece together what likely happened.  In the past I always brought twist top bottles to the salon but on this particular occasion it appears the bottle was corked.  I did not have a corkscrew.  I was (quite literally) screwed!

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Bubbles On A Budget

Obviously a super successful blogger like myself is not on a budget (hello, I drive a 2004 Toyota Scion.)  Jealous?!  You don’t end up in a fine piece of Japanese machinery if you’re not making good choices.   I pay the extra .50 cents for soy in my lattes, I almost always super size at McDonalds and at hotels I only take the shampoo if its high end (can you say baller!!) But I digress.  What I mean is that we aren’t all swilling Cristal like Puffy (I refuse to call him P Diddy because the is embarrassing for everyone.)

I drink champagne for a plethora or “many” of reasons.  (I’m trying to dumb down these posts to appeal more to my target audience.)  I like the bubbles, Heather Dubrow (champs!) and I enjoy that moment of sheer terror when you pop a cork.  There’s just nothing quite like that moment when you pop a bottle and wonder in anticipation if anyone will lose and eye.  Good times!

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Oh Rosé Won’t You Be My Bae!?

Some people remember prom (never went) their first kiss (trying to forget) or to put oil in their car (did you know that’s not a suggestion, I mean you actually HAVE to put oil in your car!)  Who knew!?  When I look back it’s the truly significant moments that stick out in my mind.  My first shopping trip to Nordstroms at nine, the day I got my Starbucks gold card and my first sip of wine!  It was my sweet 16 and my mom gave me a a small pour of Sutter Home White Zinfandel.  That’s right folks, good ole Sutter Home Zin.  That 2001 was quite a vintage (said no one ever!)  Follow that with my  introduction to the oh so chic Franzia boxed wine blush a few years down the road.  It’s like hearing about Britney Spears  for the first time when she shaved her head and then watching Crossroads.

Over the years I’ve matured into a very classy lady with what I can assure you is a tremendously refined palate.  (I can almost always tell the difference between a white or red wine without even looking!)  It occurred to me a while back that the trauma caused by my very unfortunate introduction to “wine” had subconsciously predisposed me to equate pink with plonk.  (Don’t be embarrassed if you have to Google “plonk”, it’s a very sophisticated term only true wine aficionados like myself would know.)  On a totally unrelated note can someone please explain to me in the comments how one erases their Google history???

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