This page contains Winings
from the 4th Quarter of the year 2003.
To contact WinoBob, click
time left in 2003, I wanted to send it off with a brief meeting of friends
at Bacchus. Since there are no
more friends there, (OK, there still are a few),
I sat at the corner of the ever changing bar admiring their new 60
inch plasma TV, and thought to myself, “Wow, what a great TV. I
guess I will be paying more than the $12.00 per glass to pay for that
baby.” I went easy on my
budget and had a simple South African Cabernet that drank really easy.
It was either that the wine was easy or my day was so shitty that any
wine would have drunk easy. Wishing
Tony, the new owner, and Ed, the new owner too, a happy holidays, I sat
there and consumed two glasses, while friends and co-workers entered for
holiday parties. Mind you, they were not my friends, nor my co-workers.
No, I sat alone at the end of the bar, enjoying my wine after a crappy day
at the motor pool and saying to myself what fun it must be to work in a
large office. As 2003 rolls off
my back like water from an oiled duck’s feathers, I bid it good riddance
and await with excitement the coming of 2004 wishing, hoping, and pleading
for better things to come. To
Tony, the bus boy, Jimmy, Mike, Ryan and John - Happy New Year.
Excelsior Cabernet Sauvignon $
This wine greets you with a rich blackish plum color and a nose
redolent of ripe blackcurrant and plummy fruit. Toasty oak aromas and sweet
fruit flavors are balanced by soft, ripe tannins. Good structure with a
soft, clean finish.
year is coming to a close, I do see a difference in the feeling about
things. Last year at this time,
I was depressed. I did little holiday Festivus celebrating.
In the past two weeks, think I have already enjoyed more company and
holiday parties then the two previous Decembers.
People are feeling better about the outlook for 2004 so, hey, lets
drink some wine. I will keep
things short as I have but a very small amount of time remaining before I
must post up the Grape of the Year selection.
I did manage to enjoy a few new wines and here they are.
Thomas Mitchell Shiraz $ (11.00)
This smooth-drinking Aussie offers some fine plum and dark cherry
flavors with a nice touch of chocolate.
A good everyday wine to enjoy while watching the big game on the tube
or crunching down on tacos with friends.
Dominus Estate Meritage $$$
Like a greyhound chasing a rabbit, this one shows its power and
elegance around the three quarter pole, with plenty of length for the home
stretch. Hold this for the
winos in your life that would appreciate it.
Diamond Creek Vineyards Volcanic Hill $$$
One can sit on this wine for several years to come as its tannins
stand up and shadow box three rounds before the berry, cassis and smoky
flavors from this one can step into the ring. Once they do, it’s a heavyweight match up worth watching.
Christmas! In this Day of Political Correctness, I feel it necessary
to step over the line and actually mention that for Christians, today is the
celebration of the Birth of Christ. I hope I do not offend non-Christians and I do wish your
religious, holy, ethnic or self imposed celebration the happiest and
healthiest to you and yours. As
for those of us celebrating Festivus, since it is for the rest of us, may
your aluminum pole shine bright.
evening, the new tradition was cast as the folks are finally settled into
their second and final home of their lives.
A new tradition crept into the mix as we now have the pleasure which,
as children, never existed. We
now get to sit in the family room as my father ceremoniously lights the
fireplace. Yes, growing up,
Santa had to use that magic key since we never had a fireplace and, as a
child, I felt left out of all those stories of old St. Nick being partial to
coming down the chimney. We
went as far one year as buying a cardboard fireplace and thumb tacking our
stocking to the corrugated mantle. My
father spared no expense as he purchased the one with the life-like plastic
lit flame with rotating drum that offers “life-like fire noises”.
As a child, I was made fun of since I had no fireplace and had to
propagate the myth of the magic key that Santa would use to enter our home,
sprinkle magic dust into the lungs of our razor sharp short haired terrier
so he would not awaken us with his high pitched barking and the screams of
Santa as the dog buried his incisors into his ass.
So now, at the age of 43, the home of my parents has a fireplace and
last night the family gathered around as my father, the woodsman, flicked
the switch to the electric starter that kicked over the blue flamed natural
gas to dance about the ceramic fake logs.
Merry Christmas, let the feeding frenzy begin.
of food was great with all the traditional trimmings I have written about in
the past. As Polish custom has
it, the absence of meat had me looking for a white wine.
Well, the two hour drive actually had me looking at white wine since
I knew I could control myself and manage the drive north on the Parkway.
I had a brought a bottle of red, though not the best choice with the
pierogies and shrimp and mushroom soup and crab cakes and batter-dipped cod
and tilapia and, and… No this meal is well suited for a crisp dry white
with an acidity and flavor to handle the lemon, and sauces.
Besides, one bottle of red leads to another and the thought of me
sleeping it off on Christmas Eve at the rest stop in Toms River just south
of exit 82 would not have worked well.
My truck definitely does not have a chimney and the magic key might
not be carried by Santa, but rather by a low seniority State Trooper who
just might want someone to keep him company throughout the night.
So the new Christmas Eve routine was fine-tuned last night and it
centers on the lighting of the gas fireplace, family, stories, food and a
bottle of white. I hope yours
was as much fun.
Grgich Hills Fume Blanc $ (16.99)
This wine is a great complement to fish, many styles of fish and offers a
clean zesty citrus flavor with a refreshing finish.
The slap of
reality drew me out of sleep and back to watching the ill-acted remake of
Swept Away. Madonna was now the
love slave of the mate she was shipwrecked with and her lack of food and
water never effected her hair or make up.
She was at sea for two days before they paddled to the island and her
lipstick never wore off. I was
confused. What was more difficult to watch, her acting or my life?
I found a glass near the couch that had a clear liquid in it and
hoping it was melted ice, I cautiously took a swig to alleviate my dry
bang, the heat ragged; I peered into the living room towards the front door
to see if the dead bolt was still engaged.
The big scene was close at hand and I wanted to see if the remake was
as steamy as I remember from my misspent youth.
I watched and suffered through the BS dialogue and the
semi-aristocratic air Madonna tried to project.
She finally realized she needed to give herself to the mate in a
totally submissive manner if she were to survive.
As I reached for the glass, I saw someone sitting in the burgundy
leather wingback chair to my left. He
must have been sitting there for some time as he was shaking his head and
commenting on Madonna’s poor acting skills.
Hey, you’re not that asshole White Zin grape that was here a minute
ago, are you? “No, Wino Bob, I am the Ghost of Grape of the Year Present
and I have come to ask that you rename me as Grape of the Year.
You felt that a widely accepted grape such as I was the right thing
for this year. We, as a group,
needed to heal collective wounds and promote unity.
I know you have tried to pick a different grape each year that had
significance, but we are still in a desperate divide.
It is only a common grape found in all the major growing regions of
the world that can soothe the aftermath of such a tumultuous time.”
Look, Grenache, Wino John would never accept me mailing it in.
He expects me to put time and effort into defining a grape that
exhibits qualities that give meaning to the world and are significant to the
world of wine. I cannot and
will not repeat a grape.
I felt myself being pulled through the door and floating alongside the
current GOTY. Where are we
going? “I’m going to show
you your life from a different perspective that may help you realize my
reign needs to be extended.” We
floated over an area on the East Coast where a high level meeting of a well
known publication in the wine world was discussing the need to come out with
a calendar featuring a Grape of the Month in a move to define this as their
original concept so their high powered attorneys could draft a cease and
desist order to WinoStuff.com. We
were then on the West Coast, floating over a high powered meeting where a
multi-million dollar dot com wine site was drafting a letter of intent to
buy out the world renown WinoStuff.com.
floated over the countryside estate of Kevin Zraly who was having a
high-powered meeting with his lawyer to issue a restraining renewal from me
being able to mention him in my entries.
We went down the list of meetings and it seems like the lawyers will
be having a financially rewarding holiday season.
Finally, we floated over UnBacchus and there I was in a corner stool,
at the bar, alone, drinking a tall glass of house cabernet.
I saw myself pompously telling the guy sitting next to me how I am a
wine connoisseur and how wine is for the refined.
The barmaid came over to me and politely asked me to stop bothering
the customers. Then she turned
and asked, “Wino Bob, don’t you have any place to go? Don’t you
have friends or family to go home to? You are in here every night,
bothering whomever unluckily sits next to you.
It's Christmas! Here is one on the house, but please, I’m
losing tips by you chasing off my customers.
Sit, finish your drink and then get out.”
My bony fingers tipped back my last sip of wine and, embarrassed, I
didn’t bother getting my coat from the coatroom.
Walking home in the cold dark dead of night, I saw families and
friends in their homes laughing and singing holiday songs.
Me, I just headed to the sparsely decorated room on the third floor
to turn on my computer. As 84
emails loaded into Outlook, not one was actually for me.
the *$&@ with this grape dream? Rubbing
my eyes, I saw Madonna peaking over a rocky bluff spotting a ship near the
island they were stranded. Her
love for this low level servant had grown so strongly that she didn’t want
to be rescued. It would place her back into a world she no longer wanted to
participate in. Even drunk, I
knew that Hollywood laid an egg and pulling the remote out from under my
ribs, wiping the spit off my cheek, I punched in 249 to see what was on
the foul-mouthed construction paper kids who manage to find a clear lesson
at the end of each episode and impart wisdom to the adults in their small
community of South Park Colorado.
Hey Cartman, how you doin? ……………….TBC
number on the digital clock flashed over to 4:57 AM, to bring in the only
other light in the small sparsely decorated room.
The early morning air was quiet except for the occasional gust of
wind that sent a barren branch scratching on the aluminum siding like nails
on a chalkboard. I shouldn’t
have had that second cup of coffee. The
blue hue and hum of the improperly lit street light outside my window was my
only companion. Am I awake or
still dreaming? It has been one
of those nights where the blurred reality between conscious and unconscious
had me caught between night sweats and panicked TV watching. The trapped water in the steam pipes bang out a ghostly
version of “At Seventeen”. Crap,
I’m awake, this is not the dream part, this is my friggin' life. No the dream part was worse.
frustrated by the techno glitch in my desktop, I called up Wino Rocker and
asked if he was busy. He is one of those friends that does not have an advance team
and can go out at a moment's notice. I
told him that I needed to finally get my ass out to participate in the
economy called “The Spirit of Christmas” and would be wandering
aimlessly through the isles of several stores near his house.
If he was going to be around, I would head there afterwards for a
drink to polish the edges off my day. Three
hours and one street hockey stick later, the thought that Ebenezer might not
have been too far off in his outlook on life, braced my soul.
And in my best Eric Cartman, I jumped out of the checkout line,
placed the stick on top of the sneaker rack and declared, “Screw you guys,
I’m goin' home.”
On my way
over to the Rocker’s abode, I dashed into Brewer’s World in Totowa and
grabbed the first bottle closest to the counter. It happened to be an Aussie and Mrs. Rocker is a Shiraz fan
so I figured the tide was starting to ebb.
As we sat and drank and talked, I realized that Wino Rocker is more
turned off by the Christmas gift tango than I.
This year, I just can’t find that spirit of it being 'better to
give than to receive' that I have been preached about to since the days when
Father O’Connor broke into a chorus of Silent Night from the pulpit. Getting more depressed from the wine and conversation, I
departed and drove past homes with bright lights, air inflated snowmen, and
the several living rooms filled with guests celebrating the holiday season.
As I turned onto my block, past the large house with the huge plasma
TV in the family room, it was alive with a party.
Oh, yeah, these new neighbors invited me to stop in for a drink and
to officially meet them, as it has only been three years since they came to
the neighborhood. A party, that’s exactly what I needed, a house filled with
friends and family of which I know neither.
It would be perfect; I could introduce myself, grab a glass of wine
and some dinner and stand in the corner of a crowded room, alone, depressed
Wino Bob, your neighbor. Its so nice to finally meet you after all
these years. Do you have any wine? Nice house, nice party, nice people. I don’t know if I was more impressed with the bar and
bartender set up in the entrance hall or the live two-piece raga band that
kept the night alive. Waiters
and waitresses passed around platters of shrimp, lamb chops, chicken on a
stick and little gay quiches. The
red wine was George’s Nouveau and for a mixed crowd it was acceptable.
So I doubled up on the wine, filled a plate with a weekend's full of
fare and pushed my way into the room with the 60 inch Sony hanging on the
wall. Holy crap Marie, these
people are rich…
into an eddy of financial depression as Country Club movers and shakers
exuberantly talked on and on about their perfect jobs and perfect lives,
until they paused for a breath to ask me what I did for a living.
As I stammered out a long winded explanation of the geek world that
pays the bills, they politely excused themselves saying they needed to find
their wife or a drink, or use the bathroom.
Not wanting to impose, I left, without asking for my coat, or
thanking the hosts and walked the one block down the hill in the cold, dark
dead of night. Awake from the wake, I flopped on the couch and turned on HBO
as they might have a movie with the chance of a nude scene at this hour of
the night, or rather early morning. The
title came up as “Swept Away”, the Madonna remake of the first movie I
ever saw when my parents got cable TV in 1976.
Late night showing of Swept Away and The Sailor Who Fell from Grace
with the Sea starring Kris Kristopherson was the first girlfriend of Wino
Bob Bobbinski. OK, that’s not
my real name but I figure if it worked for Kris, I’d give it a shot.
sucked, Madonna was horrible, but some how I kind of believed she was
drawing upon reality in her distain for the ship’s mate.
Boredom, depression and the wine had me crossing in and out of sleep.
I remember lying on the couch, watching Madonna ride an exercise bike
with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and then there was someone else in
the room. Well he must have
been there a while since he too commented how poor her acting skills were. It was Wino John. Well, not actually Wino John, it was
Wino John’s voice in the embodiment of a grape.
He stood up, walked over to me and said, “Wino Bob, I am the Ghost
of Grape of the Year Past and I have come to talk to you about your life.”
What the %^#)? My life? Who are your really? You
are old, and your skin is mostly removed and hanging. “Yes, Wino Bob, I am
the grape you named two years ago, and I think we need to talk about
renaming me this year. I also
am the first wine you ordered at restaurants and bought bottles of and
served to guests.”
my heart started beating out of my chest and cold sweat dripped down my back.
I clasped my hands over my checks like the Home Alone kid and then I let out
a girlish shriek. Oh no, you
are the processed grape that makes White Zinfandel.
God, don’t let my past catch up with me now, I am a famous wine web
site person who is known for loving the big bold tastes of you in your full
red skin. You can’t be here. I
looked at the TV and saw Madonna shot a hole in the raft with a flare gun,
and I turned back to WZ. “Wino
Bob, think about Zinfandel for Grape of the Year again. It is the
grape of America and in these troubled times, when the world is still not
with us, you should show courage and rename me.”
White Zinfandel, my life would have been so different without ever
having drunk you. “Wino Bob,
come with me, and I will show you what your life would have been like if you
never started the journey to appreciate good wine.
Don’t be ashamed. Many beer drinkers start off drinking a
girlie sweet wine. But it is the crossover that changes one's life.
Come, look, see yourself in that smoke filled bar. You're
sitting on the stool in the corner, alone, with a pint of Ramstein and a
shot of tequila. You’re
mumbling to yourself, pouring salt on the bar and licking it off.
Now look, you just tried to pour salt on that guy next to you.
Now you are rushing out of the bar, forgetting your coat and walking home in
the cold, dark dead of night. You
spend most of your time in a cold third floor sparsely decorated room,
clearing spam about Viagra, Paris Hilton and penis-enhancing drugs out of
your in-box because no one sends you any real email.
Your health is poor and you look like at stick figure.
You spend hours typing stupid, made-up stories hoping that someone
would read them and think it is amusing.
You will end up alone, married to an amber bottle, seeking refuge in
asshole, except for the salt licking thing, that is my life………. TBC
Peter Lehmann Clancy $$
Yet again the virtues of blending show through in this Aussie red. Like CSN at Woodstock, these grapes prove that the sum is
better than the parts with ripe plum, rich black cherry, currant and a kiss
of spice with a supple finish
and four hundred dollars in new software and this #&^%ing computer still
is not right. What the hell,
you buy one inexpensive box of PC condoms and the virus from one Virtual
Reality indiscretion seeps right through the natural lamb skin.
Yes folks, from one in the Geek tech world, did I ever tell you I
hate computers. If only I could do this web entry with paper and pencil, it
would be so much better. This
entry contains very little about wine, except for the crappy bottle of
Italian red I drank the other night in response to the friggin' mob scene
outside my office. No,
literally, there was a mob scene. Yes, they shot a mob scene outside
my office on Wednesday. The last week of shooting for the 5th season of
the Sopranos found their way in front of the building next to my office.
Though none of the heavy weights were there, from the bits and pieces
I put together in my own little warped mind, I think I scooped the ending of
the season. Wino Bob prediction:
look for Paulie Walnuts to get whacked.
Call it gut feel, call it dreaming, call it a bad reaction to the
crappy Italian red. There was a
scene shot with a car driving out of Galante Funeral Home’s driveway.
Rumors spread that the driver of the car was Johnnie Sac.
Now we all know that Paulie was looking to head to his crew feeling
that Tony wasn’t valuing his talents.
So I’m thinking since this was shot for the last episode and then
there are 10 episodes being shot for the final season, they are going to
start whacking the stars. Paulie
goes, mark it down.
As for my
computer frustration, if there is a technology dweeb in the audience, help
me fix this GD issue. (Editor's note: Let's see... Is there
anyone affiliated with this site who is a computer dweeb? Anyone
who knows a little about computers...? Anyone at all...? I
can't think of anyone... Oh, yeah. There's me! What
seems to be the problem, Lamo?)
Villa Puccini Chianti Superiore $
This wine carries little excitement, minimal fruit and a sharp
birthday to my therapist. Though all communications have been cut off,
I know my file is still open…
to see Wino Wally has been posting entries since this past week I have been
in meeting for various reasons. Not
much time to write or drink, but there are two wines I can comment on.
I did want to ask Wino Wally how he came upon the idea of pimping me
out as a Christmas gift. After
my last entry, I think I put the fright into Winette Alice as she commented
that sharing info on my ball sack was more than she wanted to know about
Wino Bob. So this time I will
leave my ball sack out of the discussions and make it cut and dry for those
who actually look for information on this page.
Pimped out Christmas present note: if we do have dinner at Bacchus, I
retain the option of wearing/not wearing underwear.
last week, we, as a group, were hosted to a group geek dinner at one of the
nicer eateries in Newark. Yes,
that lovable town I was born in and spent the first six months of my life
still has some great ethnic cuisine. It
warms my heart when I do get to go back there to drive by the building that
once was my grandmother’s local corner tavern and is now donned with neon
flashing lights highlighting the words, “Finest Go-Go in town.”
I’m sure my grandmother would turn in her grave if she knew the
business she started in 1942 and ran seven days a week until her health
failed in 1972, that scantily clad women are walking atop the mahogany bar
in their 4 inch CFM pumps and desperate loners are dangling dollar bills
from their last pay check in hopes of a smile and a two minute conversation.
Not that I would know what goes on in one of those places or
anything. Sorry, I was actually
speaking of the famous Spanish Tavern on Green Street in Newark, where
bronto-sized steaks, and chops and caldrons of shellfish stew cram the
tables. One of the managers sat to my left and ordered up some white
wine, and as I was dining on my mound of mussels, clams, scallops, shrimp,
and lobster, I filled my glass with an Albarino that gently held the hand of
concluded with a WinoStuff planning meeting at JR as the year is closing
faster than an ass of a young boy seeing Michael Jackson coming his way.
It is time for the debate to begin and my time of contemplation,
education and frustration as I toil over the task of selecting the Grape of
the Year for 2004. Please note
that if the December 2004 issue of Spectator has the same grape posted, then
it’s true they have listening devices planted on my phone and are
monitoring the reams of documents that I flood to WJ as I justify my
selection. This year the
process has not gotten any easier and WJ laid out the criteria I need to use
to ensure a sound decision. I will be sequestered for the next several days drinking,
hanging a dollar between my thumb and index finger in hopes of two
I mean, I
will be alone, drinking, tasting, touching, feeling, and
visualizing.....sorry. Hey, I
got two weeks to drink my ass off and figure this thing out.
Agro de Bazan Granbazan-Amber $ (14.99)
A great companion to the seafood world, as one might find this sleek
bottle netted along with the bottle nose dolphin as the Spanish fishing
fleet trawls the Atlantic. Crisp,
clean and flavorful with the right balance to heighten the flavors of sea
bass or shellfish.
Chateau St Jean Cabernet Sauvignon $$
This wine has great black cherry, and cassis with a finish of toasted
oak, but comes up a bit short on the body and feel for a Cab.
Good, but not one to rave about.
weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful...
No actually, the evening with wine, words, food and friends was delightful.
It is a shame that we cannot get together more frequently, due to the
fact that Wino Lou and Wino Bruce have real jobs.
Wino Bruce is a famous museum photographer who’s been to the most
remote parts of the world photographing artwork and artifacts that date back
to the beginning of… well, artifacts.
Wino Lou is
one of those super smart scientist guys that has invented several of these
pills Medicare is making a ton of money on by selling to older people and
stuff. He actually wears a
headband so his brain doesn’t ooze out of his cranium.
And then in
between their discussions of the latest art show opening, or the newest drug
to cure something, I could only interject a sentence or two like, “Wino
Lou, will this new medicine give me an oily discharge?”
Hey, don’t be so quick to judge my stupidity. Did you ever
read the warning on those fat reducing potato chips?
The food was great and the conversation was fun and since I could not
add much to the intelligent conversation, I made up for it by bringing over
a decent bottle of wine. I was
able to hang with a conversation on TCA until Mrs. Wino Lou started drawing
the chemical formula on a napkin and explaining the microbiological reaction
between the bacteria and the orgasmatron and then started speaking in Latin
for the elements. Boy, did I
waste my years in college learning neat stuff.
Though it did allow me to build up a tolerance to alcohol and
heightened my desire to pursue a career in drinking.
If I only figured out then that I could have studied wine in college,
I could have been somebody, instead of a stick figure on a web site.
By the end
of the third bottle of wine, I forgot to write down what Wino Lou had
brought. I know it was a South African; I could taste the Paarl soil
and the balmy ocean influence. Actually,
I got a quick glance of the label and saw it was a Glen Carlou.
After all, it’s all about me anyway…
And to the delight of the crowd, I did keep my ball sack well
Qupe Syrah $
This is a wine I would drink everyday if I could.
Bob Lindquist is noted as one of CA’s original Rhone Rangers and
puts out a quality wine with generous fruit and a classy spice with
consistency and count-on quality.
Clos du Val Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve (my
first good wine to cellar from WJ)
1994 was a year to appreciate and this crafted wine offers a treat as
it unveils plenty of mouthwatering black cheery and hints of green olives.
A finish that offers one the hint that this is just starting to
disclose its grace and elegance.
Warming Protest against chemical manufacturers of CFCs has been cancelled
due to SNOW!!!!!! Hey Al Gore,
its only December 6th and I am shoveling 11 inches of freshly
McRae, I cannot believe that winter has paid us a visit so early this year.
Snow has only one positive effect, the hectic schedule of the
neighborhood grinds to a snail’s pace and the hunter’s get a day to
gather on the corner over the roar of snow blowers to ask the question,
“Who’s house tonight?” Tradition
has sprouted from necessity and each winter after the first major snowfall,
we do a potluck dinner and wine evening at a volunteer’s home.
The holiday decorations, the crackle of a fire, and the warm friendly
conversation over a cornucopia of food items and a well supplied wine flow
make this a treat. It is almost
a Hallmark commercial.
while I was blowing the walk ( that is not a phrase I will use again) a
synapse fired that had been charging over the past two years.
Summer wine nights on the porch were commonplace for the neighbors,
but the past two years we have not been able to connect.
Through the past two years, the winter gathering started.
So my mind raced with reasons why our time together with food/wine-loving
good friends has shifted. Forget
the obvious crazy schedule answer, I ruled that out last year since we did
have a few dates that would have work, but didn’t.
Then, while changing out of my wet clothes from blowing, my
reflection in the bathroom mirror brought everything into focus.
Winter is cold. Therefore, I must wear long pants, bulky
sweaters and a jacket. But in
the summer, I usually wear baggy shorts, t-shirt and no underwear.
I must have let my saggy, saltwater taffy sack swing too freely the
last hot humid night on the porch. Maybe
one of the neighbor’s kids has been scarred for life after Mr. Potato Head
showed his bald spot. Yes, in the winter, Mr. Potato Head hibernates. To
Wino Lou, Wino Bruce and Wino Chris, please extend my apologies to your
families. I will make up for it
in wine and will be wearing an extra pair of under shorts tonight.
Let the fun begin. (Editor's note:
back to wine, I did get to see the Spectator’s Top 100 and I will not
spend much time commenting on it since Wino John and Wino Wally are much
more capable. I just have one
thing to say: A Merlot? Are you mad, woman? A friggin
Boy, did my
extended weekend end in a bust. The
dreaded common cold took away my ability to taste, smell and enjoy wine so
the remains of the poor wine I picked for Thanksgiving is my last memory of
the beverage. However, all was not lost, as a means of sleeping well last
night to be refreshed and ready to tackle the morning, I grabbed a bottle of
Vicks Nyquil. Mother of God,
did this knock me out, but one or two more nights of this and my buds should
be back in working condition.