My love affair with wine began with a big box of Franzia. White Zinfandel. I was in college with a great fake ID and it was cheap and I loved everything about it. How drunk it got me. How it had a little tap and was always chilled and ready and waiting for me in the mini-fridge. No cork to mess with. Not that I had any idea how to open an actual bottle at the time. Or do I now, for that matter. I do prefer a nice twist off. I liked how warm and fuzzy it made me feel. And it made me feel so sophisticated. Oh, you're going to do a keg stand? Um, yeah, I'll be over there drinking my boxed wine out of my red solo cup. Because I'm classy.
After college, when I had an actual paycheck, I stepped up my game to Pinot Grigio. When I was really living the high life, it would be Santa Margherita. So crisp and clean and didn't stain my teeth. Again, I'm all about sophistication. I did eventually graduate to red wine. Once I tried something besides merlot, I was in heaven. A warm Red in the winter, a cool White in the summer. Nothing made me happier. Nothing.
Now that I'm an advanced maternal age, I have reverted back to boxed wine. Because, again, it's affordable and gets me drunk. Funny how life works. But I am no longer limited to Franzia. Nothing against my first love, but now that there is such a variety of trendy looking boxes at Target, I like to feel that I'm really treating myself when diapers and formula are the only other things in my cart. I love nothing more than filling my thermal coffee mug with it and taking the kids to the park. Or plopping on the front lawn with the neighbors. It's so convenient. Just pick it up by the handle and you're off. But nothing is as convenient as the little wine juice boxes they now make. Fits right in the cup holder of my double stroller. Judge away, folks.
It's no secret I like wine. I'm easy to buy for. So when my friend Lion Gown gave me some of his home brew for Christmas, I was thrilled. Like I said, I'll drink anything. This was a very special wine and I was honored to receive it. And Lion knows me, so he gave me two bottles. He's smart. He understands me. He knows one bottle is never enough, yet two bottles is always too much. It's a slippery slope that I go down often. A slope Lion has accompanied me down many times. I wish I could say Lion was my Gusband (gay husband) like Tori Spelling has, but unfortunately he is straight. For now. But he is the closest thing I have to a gay friend so I'll take it. So Lion brews up this wine and painstakingly prepares the label.
Yes, that is him lying naked in a pile of grapes. He didn't need to be naked. He totally could have worn pants, but he didn't. He's an artist. Who do you even ask to take such a picture? He makes his family feel an embarrassment few people will ever feel. He makes everybody uncomfortable to be in the same room as him. But he makes me proud.
Here's a clip of what the label says, "each individual grape endures a rigorous journey: one by one, each nectar filled globule cascades the length of Lion's back, running the gauntlet of a follicular jungle before coming to rest in the pungent posterior channel." I have to stop there because this is not a pornographic blog. I appreciate how seriously Lion takes his wine making. Needless to say both bottles are empty, long gone. But the hours I spent blacked-out will haunt me forever.
Wine has been the one constant in my life. It's been there for me through the good times and the bad. My triumphs and my failures. Wine is my best friend and, on occasion, my worst enemy. I love that when people think of wine, they think of me. My cousin, Lil' Fanny, bought me some napkins that say, "Wine, how classy people get shitfaced". Pretty much sums it up. Pretty much sums me up. Classy.
*Some names have been changed so the people I'm talking about don't know I'm talking about them.