You know those times when you come home and suddenly that bottle of wine on your counter starts talking to you?
No? Just me?
This afternoon, I left work early to go to the Seattle Cider Summit. Doesn’t that sound fancy?? I mean, it’s sort of fancy. Cider is basically the thing you drink when you’re like “today I’m feeling fancy and want something other than beer, but I’m not fancy enough for champagne.” That’s exactly what it’s like. Seriously.
[The point is, it wasn’t really a “summit” because that is an important meeting between heads of state or something, and this was more just a bunch of casual Seattle folk getting drunk on cider.]
Disirregardless, it was super fun, and it was a damn good excuse to leave my office at 3pm. So I drank a bunch of cider. Here is a bullet-point recap:
- Apple cider is far better than pear cider. I have done the testing. Trust me.
- Sometimes brewing cider with hops makes it taste super duper amazing.
- Dry cider is always the better choice.
- If you can barrel-age your cider, you probably should do that. (OMG bourbon)
- Some men who make hard cider are incredibly attractive.
- People from Alberta, Canada are really awesome.
- I love dogs.
I tried 8 ciders, I bought 1 bottle, and then I came home and planned to do very little with my evening. Some leftovers for dinner, maybe a beer, watch The Daily Show…
And then the wine started talking.
What do I do??
I cannot possibly resist its advances. It’s basically the most effective pickup line on earth. And by “it” I mean the wine itself. By simply being the wine, it is automatically more successful than pretty much any pickup line I have ever heard.
(Note to all men: If you want to succeed at picking me up, become a bottle of wine. OR make me lamb chops and enjoy my use of the word “segue.”)
The point is, I am immune to many things. Especially horrific pickup lines (like the one where the guy saw me texting at a party and asked me if I could recommend a service provider to him…worst ice-breaker in history).
BUT. I am not immune to wine. Nope. The wine on my counter looked at me, and in the sultriest voice an inanimate object can muster, it said “Hey baby. I’ve been sitting here for 2 days. There’s only a few glasses left in me. Liberate me, baby. I know you want to.”
Yeah. That’s right. I just got turned on by that bottle of wine. It fucking worked.
And now I’m drunk. And it’s awesome.
Happy Friday ❤