Saturday, October 2, 2010

I will never be a wine wanker.

And it's a shame. I'm something of a pretentious, pseudo-intellectual twat, so I really feel like I should like wine. Then I could sip it thoughtfully, and murmur approvingly about its bold fruitiness. Or spit it back into the glass disparagingly, and ask in arch tones what vintage that cask purported to be.

But no. To my cultured palate, wine - ALL wine - tastes yuck. Yuck like brussel sprouts to a five year old. Or even wine to a five year old. It doesn't matter how good, or bad, the drop is supposed to be, to me they are all indistinguishable in their yuckness.

Which means there is nothing so boring as a wine-tasting tour for me. I get to watch all my friends enjoy themselves, while I twitch moodily in the background. And of course I'm ALWAYS the designated driver. The best time I ever had in a winery was when we'd come to it after a trip to a candy shop. I walked in gleefully nibbling on a huge stick of fairy floss, and relished the horror in the wine-slaves' eyes.

I'm not a big fan of alcohol in general. It all tastes gross, and my low alcohol tolerance means there's only about a five minute window of merriness before I cross into "want to vomit" territory. So I don't really drink. This causes people to feel sorry for me at social functions. But I find drunkenness quite distasteful, so it's really not a problem.

Maybe I should become a straight-edger. Although I don't know that I feel strongly enough for that kind of dedication. Plus, they might disapprove of me taking painkillers for headaches.

In fitting with my pretentious-wanker leanings, I also feel like I should be brilliant at chess. I'm not though. Maybe I'm really a jock? No, surely then I'd like beer? So confusing. I want a label!