Chianti: “And another thing: your 70s cinema is totally derivative of the French New Wave –”*
me: “– Enough! Man, you had best be mobbed up, is all I have to say—because otherwise, you’re about to be poured over ice into a highball glass, stuffed with cherries and orange slices, and turned into some poncy Sangria, then locked into a refrigerator with a bunch of rowdy Guinness draughts. Which, if you need some context, is the adult beverage equivalent of throwing a dress and some heels on Jared Leto and chaining him inside a biker bar.”
This seems more Beckett-esque than your recent abstract piece. Not that I have standing to criticize…
(gulp)
Never argue with food, Jeff.
Count Dracula, I think…
…you’re about to be turned into some poncy Sangria, poured over ice into a highball glass and stuffed with orange slices and cherries, then locked into the refrigerator with a bunch of rowdy Guinness draughts.
Now you’re just giving the Armadillo ideas for his refreshment for tomorrow’s activities.
Perhaps you should introduce the Chanti to those red pills from behind the cushion. I hear that threesomes can be most enlightening.
…
(Sigh.)
…
There you go. Make a cocktail out of him.
Talk about your “demon alchohol.”
The biker bar thing… I did that with a lippy manhattan; it came out an appletini. Sad, really.
My Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough Region of New Zealand doesn’t talk to me like that. What do you do to get food to talk to you?
I used to think that the heaven we all go to when we die is a Chinese Buffet, and God was Xue Fang, your hostess. Now I’m beginning to wonder if heaven is inside your refrigerator. I don’t know.
But one thing I do know. Behind your couch cushions is hell Hell HELL
Peter’s been there.
I took a class in wine tasting years ago and here’s what I learned:
Never buy wine with a screw top.
Never buy wine in a box.
Never buy wine in a bottle bigger than your head.
QED
TomB, I’m going to go all didactic for a second and mention that your winetasting class years ago is wrong on at least two of those three points now. (Maybe all three, if you’re willing to drop coin on the big bottle.)
Jeff’s posts on Vicodin- the creative posts make more sense, but I have to just skip all the news/opinion pieces. I’ll just sit here and wait for the armadillo.
Guffaw! Guinness is only 4% ABV. That’s comparable to a light beer. I give it to the kids. Throw that bitch ass Chianti in with some high gravity brew. Better yet, put her in the cabinet with the Gentleman Jack. She’ll wake up with a massive headach and a 22ga sphincter.
..turned into some poncy Sangria, then locked into a refrigerator with a bunch of rowdy Guinness draughts.
“French New Wave cinema? You wish, bambi. You’re getting dressed for THE SUPER BOWL!”
TomB  but all three of those options are great timesavers to a serious drinker…
Slightly off topic, but has anyone else seen recent pictures of Jared Leto? That dude packed on 50 pounds for his next screen role as John Lennon’s killer. His once flawless skin (really I’m not gay) now glistens with a thin layer of lard. Quite a transformation.
That pales in comparison with what Christian Bale did to get ready for The Machinist, natesnake. I think I read that he lost 60 pounds, out of what had to be a starting point of under 200.
Insulted by alicublog? I’d compare that more to watered-down apple juice. Not nearly vital enough to produce even the slightest buzz.
Any Chianti can”t hold its weight against a good bottle of Night Train…..
Uh, that reminds me of the other thing I learned.
Thunderbird and Maddog don’t count.
Although if it makes you feel any better, after a night of cheap vodka and excasty, I had some killer 7-up that I could have sworn was Dom Perignon
Never try to teach a pig to sing. It ruins the wine and annoys the pig. Or something like that. hehehe
TomB, you need to take a wine class of a more recent vintage, so to speak. Your first two points may still be debatable, your third is errant, my good man.
Carin,
This post was made on Thursday. Jeff, knowing his audience, believed it would incite a wild drinking binge through Friday and his audience would forget about the ‘dillo. Reading the progressively more weird comments, it seems to have worked on all but you!
DON’T YOU RIPPLE DIRNKIN’PEOPLE TRY AND STIFLE MY SUPERIOR EDUCATION!
Maddog doesn’t spell either. It’s straight from the hood…….