1. What are you wearing?
Shorts in a size I don't wanna be. And a shirt that narrowly escaped the latest Reflux Rage of the Incredible Spittling Infant.
2. What's the nature of today's hypochondria?
Sleep deprivation will lead to foolish errors in judgement which will imperil my life.
3. What was today's workout?
At least 7,000 paces through the Bronx Zoo.
4. How do you do what you do and stay so sweet?
You, dear reader, are all that stands between me and a bout of the nasties.
5. What's that burning smell?
The neighbors who never invite us over not for any reason not that we want to consort with them anyway are grilling something tasty again. Grrr.
6. If you were an animal, what kind would you be?
A maniacal kookaburra with a squirrel monkey for a pet.
7. What are you drinking, and why?
Shiraz from Australia. I tried Maker's Mark but it offended.
8. In what ways hast thou offended?
I dissed my home city of New Ro and for that I am sorely repentant. I started a big tire fire of controversy filled with slutty accessories and dollar store items!
9. What's the next big thing?
That's "things" plural, and the answer is my big boobies. They are bigger than you!
10. Music selection?
The Fix is in. Great soundtrack to a movie that doesn't exist yet!
Showing posts with label shiraz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shiraz. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
The Same 10 Questions I Always Ask Myself, III
1. What are you wearing?
A cheap faux ruby necklace from Annie SEZ that causes people to exclaim "Ooh, where did you get that cute piece of jewelry?"
2. What's the nature of today's hypochondria?
Asbestos poisoning from something foul I inhaled on the way home past a construction site.
3. What was today's workout?
A 45-minute jam-packed session at New York Sports Club (SoHo) with the goddess of Total Body Conditioning, Loi, who puts more into 45 minutes that one ever dreamed or dreaded. She hates "girlie pushups" and wimpy manuevers that avoid exertion, and she strides around the class, demanding "more energy, people!" Sometimes she claps her hands and shouts "I'm busy, people. Busy! Move it!" She is a 40+ beautiful black woman with a body better than a 21-year-old, and she likes to say things such as "When you do your squats, stick out your booty like Brad Pitt is right behind you!" This is better than a personal training session!
4. How do you do what you do and stay so sweet?
I offset my moral "carbon emissions" through well-placed prayer and random kindness to strangers.
5. What's that burning smell?
A smokie treat. Oh crap, when the nurse practitioner at my work health center reads this, her finger will start a-wagging.
6. If you were an animal, what kind would you be?
My old pet Dalmation, wearing a tutu that I used to tug on to her body with much protest and nipping.
7. What are you drinking, and why?
A full-bodied Aussie Shiraz, this one called "Mollydooker: The Boxer." A bit too thick and fruity for my tastes, but yummy all the same. Why? It warms me soul and pickles me heart.
8. In what ways hast thou offended?
I tossed an organically-raised white cabbage that might have turned the bend, but could have been salvaged with some careful pruning.
9. What's the next big thing?
Pigeons. They will appear on the menus of every fine restaurant in the form of "Pigeon Pie," "Squab Bundtcake," and "City Vermin Frisee with a Soot Demiglaze."
10. Music selection?
The Watson Twins, Southern Manners. Yes!
Gosh, why didn't I have a twin with whom I could record songs? Except that my twin would likely have been as tone-deaf as me. EXCEPT I do have the ability to sing single notes weirdly on pitch, note after note, when playing the guitar late at night. EXCEPT I have to have not smoked to accomplish this. Blast!
A cheap faux ruby necklace from Annie SEZ that causes people to exclaim "Ooh, where did you get that cute piece of jewelry?"
2. What's the nature of today's hypochondria?
Asbestos poisoning from something foul I inhaled on the way home past a construction site.
3. What was today's workout?
A 45-minute jam-packed session at New York Sports Club (SoHo) with the goddess of Total Body Conditioning, Loi, who puts more into 45 minutes that one ever dreamed or dreaded. She hates "girlie pushups" and wimpy manuevers that avoid exertion, and she strides around the class, demanding "more energy, people!" Sometimes she claps her hands and shouts "I'm busy, people. Busy! Move it!" She is a 40+ beautiful black woman with a body better than a 21-year-old, and she likes to say things such as "When you do your squats, stick out your booty like Brad Pitt is right behind you!" This is better than a personal training session!
4. How do you do what you do and stay so sweet?
I offset my moral "carbon emissions" through well-placed prayer and random kindness to strangers.
5. What's that burning smell?
A smokie treat. Oh crap, when the nurse practitioner at my work health center reads this, her finger will start a-wagging.
6. If you were an animal, what kind would you be?
My old pet Dalmation, wearing a tutu that I used to tug on to her body with much protest and nipping.
7. What are you drinking, and why?
A full-bodied Aussie Shiraz, this one called "Mollydooker: The Boxer." A bit too thick and fruity for my tastes, but yummy all the same. Why? It warms me soul and pickles me heart.
8. In what ways hast thou offended?
I tossed an organically-raised white cabbage that might have turned the bend, but could have been salvaged with some careful pruning.
9. What's the next big thing?
Pigeons. They will appear on the menus of every fine restaurant in the form of "Pigeon Pie," "Squab Bundtcake," and "City Vermin Frisee with a Soot Demiglaze."
10. Music selection?
The Watson Twins, Southern Manners. Yes!
Gosh, why didn't I have a twin with whom I could record songs? Except that my twin would likely have been as tone-deaf as me. EXCEPT I do have the ability to sing single notes weirdly on pitch, note after note, when playing the guitar late at night. EXCEPT I have to have not smoked to accomplish this. Blast!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
It's Magic! A Wine Recommendation
I used to be a drinker of "discount bin" wines, and even the occasional "box o' red" or "box o' white" (handy for canoe trips, as the wine bladder can be used for a lively game of "bladderball" when the wine is finished. Simply drain the wine into your tummy, then blow up the bag and engage in a spirited game of kick-the-bladder around the campfire. Also useful as a pillow once the gruesome truth of what you drank sinks in. And, you can burn the box in the fire!)
I can't do that anymore. It's not that I don't want to--I like a cheap discovery as much as the next person. But I have realized that drinking underpriced wine results in headaches, while drinking the pricier varieties is much more satisfactory. Could this be because one is aware that one is guzzling down 20s faster than one could burn 'em? Nah, it must be because of the quality of the bottle.
Here is a lovely shiraz that we have found that I must extol. It is riddled with virtue! It is, in fact, magic. So tasty is it that we bought not one, but two cases. And then a few random bottles. It is a full-bodied, rich red redolent with notes of "first love and pleather," not to mention blueberries, spice, and cream.
For those who are cringing at the price, don't. Just stop your cheap ass self right there! What are you going to do, drink Mad Dog? Night Train? That shit will rumble through your head in the morning as you stagger home from a disappointing one-night stand, wearing a rumpled prom dress (or worse, oversize sweats still stinking of the gym).
Of course, there is the "intermediate buy"--the ubiquitous $11 bottle. A category I have succumbed to on many occasions. It's a hit-or-miss proposition, that 'tween bottle. One could get lucky, or one could wind up with a mediocre stinker. Your miserable $10 would be better served by donating to a great cause rather than a cheap-ass lousy wine made from discontented grapes stompled by calloused, angry feet.
Feet. My college roomate had a fear and hatred of naked feet. What did this mean? I still wonder.
I can't do that anymore. It's not that I don't want to--I like a cheap discovery as much as the next person. But I have realized that drinking underpriced wine results in headaches, while drinking the pricier varieties is much more satisfactory. Could this be because one is aware that one is guzzling down 20s faster than one could burn 'em? Nah, it must be because of the quality of the bottle.
Here is a lovely shiraz that we have found that I must extol. It is riddled with virtue! It is, in fact, magic. So tasty is it that we bought not one, but two cases. And then a few random bottles. It is a full-bodied, rich red redolent with notes of "first love and pleather," not to mention blueberries, spice, and cream.
For those who are cringing at the price, don't. Just stop your cheap ass self right there! What are you going to do, drink Mad Dog? Night Train? That shit will rumble through your head in the morning as you stagger home from a disappointing one-night stand, wearing a rumpled prom dress (or worse, oversize sweats still stinking of the gym).
Of course, there is the "intermediate buy"--the ubiquitous $11 bottle. A category I have succumbed to on many occasions. It's a hit-or-miss proposition, that 'tween bottle. One could get lucky, or one could wind up with a mediocre stinker. Your miserable $10 would be better served by donating to a great cause rather than a cheap-ass lousy wine made from discontented grapes stompled by calloused, angry feet.
Feet. My college roomate had a fear and hatred of naked feet. What did this mean? I still wonder.
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