Oil, Vinegar, and Inter-Generational Love
It's got a five-word name, so it must be important!
I owe the greatest night of my life to this vinegar.
So, the other night I was out at this bar, and I met this lady. Now, I should specify, this wasn’t just any kind of bar, and it wasn’t just any kind of lady. It was a bar called The Cougar Cave, and as for the lady, well ... you can probably guess.
She was out on the prowl, searching for a younger man to give her what she’d been missing. She had a name. A name I can’t get off my tongue to this day, a name I hear in my dreams and smell upon my lonely pillow. Tiffani Scottsmom.
But back to the story at hand. I could tell from the moment I laid eyes on her that she wanted it, that she needed it. It wasn’t hard to lure her out of her cave, and back to my place. I thought it was all over but the fun part... but I was wrong.
Once we got inside, she froze up. Nothing seemed to impress her. Not cabernet. Not merlot. No matter how many of my wonderful Woot wines we sampled, she was forever unfulfilled. She was nice enough about it, friendly. Catty, even, in keeping with theme. But my every move was rebuffed. She knew what she wanted. And so did I. I just wasn’t quite ready to give it to her.
But I looked her over, and maybe I needed to be. She had the kind of lips that had lived, you know? Lips like a well-aged steak, cooked medium rare, and just as flavorful. Eyes that had seen the Roosevelt Administration, but not really understood it. Hips that swung, however creakily, for the fences.
Reluctantly, finally, I went to the highest cabinet. I reached for the good stuff.
“Cavedoni Botte Piccola Italian Balsamic,” she purred.
“That’s right, baby, the good stuff.”
All of a sudden, she went got up and walked away. I didn’t understand. I’d been so sure. But she didn’t go far. My dear, beautiful Tiffani Scottsmom just went over to her purse, slung lazily over my couch, and produced a bottle of her own.
She slinked back over to me, and put it in my hand. I looked at the bottle. “Johnson's”, it said.
“Can’t have one without the other, baby,” she said.
Oil and vinegar, baby. Baby oil and vinegar.