Juiced

Soooooo taking a trip to the winery is like going to Disneyland when you're five. Actually, it's like being told that you can live in Disneyland if you want to. And then being told that actually, Disneyworld wants me to live at its palace instead and I will be a princess. It's super, awesome, happy day. And my boyfriend gets to be my DD.
This is me and my DD in my car:

We always go to the same winery. Konzelmann Estate Winery, it's called. We love Konzelmann. Well, I love Konzelmann. I am the queen of Konzelmann. I know exactly what to taste test when I get there. My favorite wine is Baco Noir. But you have to pretend like you don't know what it is. You have to be all "oooh, I don't know, they all look so good" and then they give you a lot of stuff to taste and then you can be all "hey, what's this Baco Noir one?" and make sure to pretend like it's hard to pronounce french words because they pour more in the glass if they think you're a retard.

By the fifth or so tasting, the bartenders are on to what I'm up to. But by that time, they feel stupid that it took so long to figure it out, and it's a posh place, so they don't cut me off or anything. It's not like I spill too much wine.



I am a great salesperson at Konzelmann. I drink, therefore I get super social. I am good at drawing an audience (the best ones are the people that come off tour busses) with my rants and advice, especially when they probably feel sorry for me and my problem. I tell my audience how good the wine is, and then taste test along with them so I can explain the process of the experience. I'm proud to say that I've sold 6 bottles.



Then my boyfriend magically reappears again just in time to save the bartenders from having to detach my elbow from the bar table. And then he buys the wine bottles I picked out and have been protecting, because a lady simply never has cash on hand. I promise him that we will go home and drink our lovely new wines. But then I fall asleep in the car. And get a hangover before dinner.