Whine Whine Whine
Seriously. Just shut up and drink it already. XOXO
I'm not kidding, man. If I have to listen to Angela whining about wine one more second, I'm going to throw myself off a building.
One minute it's "I just don't know. I like the chocolate and cherry in this Cabernet," and the next it's "But then I really like the sound of the blackberry and herbs de Provence in this Syrah. I can't decide. Why is it so hard? Will you pick for me? Pleeeeeease, Greg?!"
And I'm all, "Why don't you just go with a Merlot? You'll enjoy the dusty malt …"
But see, then she interrupts me, because she's NOT EVEN LISTENING, with "I dunno. The Cab does pair well with burgers."
Burgers? REALLY, Angela? I THOUGHT YOU WERE A VEGETARIAN? Oh. Not on Sundays. OF COURSE! I forgot about that sect of non-meat eaters who actually DO eat meat on Sundays. And besides, who cares what it tastes good with? The Syrah goes nicely with grilled ham and Fontina cheese, but you don't see me basing my wine consumption purely on the merit of its food pairings now do you? DO YOU?
No, no. Not you. Sorry, man.
Why does she even bother anyway? She's just gonna have one little sip and then say she's too tipsy to finish her glass just like she always does. And then when she makes out with my best friend, she's just going to blame it on the mouth-coating tannins of the Merlot even though she only drank, like, a tablespoon full.
UGH! Anyway. Sorry for venting, man. But listen. I totally need to talk to you about making out with my girlfriend.