Today Is National Strawberry Rhubarb Wine Day But I Can't Figure Out How To Celebrate
They don't have any anywhere!
Happy weekend!
Today, according to the website I use to find all of the weird holidays I post about here, is Strawberry Rhubarb Wine Day. Very exciting, no? Because it’s the best pie and the best flavor of anything, and who wouldn’t want to give that a try? I like wine, I like pie, so bring it the fuck on, please!
Alas, I cannot find it anywhere, even at Binny’s. They have rhubarb wine, they have strawberry wine, and I guess I could mix them, but that seems likely to turn out like when I was a teenager and my friend and I made a concoction of an unnoticeable amount of booze from every bottle my parents had. It was not good! I hope you have better luck than I have, but for now, because it’s super appropriate/inappropriate, I will give to you … summer wine.
Honestly, even if Nancy Sinatra did scam him out of his “silver spurs, a dollar and a dime,” I’m gonna say that Lee Hazlewood got the better end of the deal there.
I was gonna be fairly predictable and post the Moira Rose fruit wine commercial from Schitt’s Creek and the Orson Welles Paul Masson wine outtakes it was inspired by, but then I came upon this magic. A wine cooler commercial featuring, um, Vincent Price wearing a polar bear costume with no explanation for why he is wearing a polar bear costume.
Maybe he had too many wine coolers?
Is it green? Or is just the bottle green?
And I’ll also give you this very weird wine cooler featuring Bruce Willis and Sharon Stone.
I did not know they actually served wine coolers in bars!
Apparently Bruce Willis was like, the actual spokesperson for Seagram’s Wine Coolers, which is hilarious.
I honestly have so many questions.
As a bonus, I would like you all to partake in my most recent retail victory. So, yesterday, I was killing time in Nordstrom before my nail appointment, when what do I see but a Chloë top that looks strikingly similar to the dress I was wearing. Except the Chloë top was $2150 and my dress was about $2.50 (possibly not even!) at the pay by the pound thrift shop.
I don’t even care that my hair is insane and I’m not wearing any makeup other than mascara, or that I had to breathe in a ridiculous amount of fire air or that I got caught in a very brief-but-nearly-torrential downpour or that my nails very much did not turn out great. Because I am a WINNER and a mothefucking FASHION ICON.
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Talk amongst yourselves!
I had a lovely nap yesterday evening. Like, probably 90 minutes or so. I think I had gotten a little overheated earlier yesterday, and I took my better half's rather pleading suggestion to surrender, get in bed and drift off to sleepytown.
As an old person who is rather new to napping, this was Bliss. Why am I only getting this now?
When I rose from my nap, I felt like a new hooman. I heated up a great home-cooked meal out of the freezer, hung out with the Tigger Kitteh out in the night air for a spell, watched a Joanna Lumley travel show, then got a good night's sleep. So when Tigger mao-wooed from another room and woke me at 5:30, I didn't mind.
I retired last year but really have not given myself enough permission to do things like take naps when I'm tired. There has always been a part of me that's hyper-alert, and I applied that daily for sometimes 12 hours a day during my working life.
Now I am certainly slowing down, especially cognitively. I have an MRI of my noggin scheduled next week to see what, if anything, is going on up there. Meantime, I will nap more.
So here's an alcohol story.
Acquaintance was a trucker. His route was Port of Baltimore to the Smirnoff distillery in Connecticut. His tanker's cargo: pure drinkin' alcohol.
He was allowed a certain amount of ullage (great word!), i.e., evaporation of the alcohol while in transit, as one would expect from a volatile cargo.
It took him not long at all to compute that if he drove like a bat on fire out of hell, and didn't stop for nuffin, that he would have a *substantial* amount of, err, ullage credit, so to speak.
Can't remember the amount, but with an 8,000 gallon tanker, what, 50 gallons of ullage? Wouldn't be more than a rounding error on the topline.
So 20 miles or so from the distillery, he would pull off and be met by his cadre with puh-lenty of 5 gallon containers. Glug glug glug!
Eventually, he was caught and lost his jerb. How'd he get caught? Same way most crims get caught: SOMEBODY BLABBED ABOUT IT.
Insert WWII Poster: "Be like Dad! Keep Mum"!