Friday, April 9, 2010


So yesterday I went to the grocery store on my lunch break to buy kitty litter and wine. My all time favorite combination to walk up to the register with, especially when I haven't showered and am wearing the rattiest most cat covered sweater I own because I don't feel like finding my coat from that small dark corner I threw it in the minute the sun came out.

You know how you wander around the Giant Eagle wine selection, and of course it isn't about what brand of wine you want, since this is a grocery store, but what kind. Do you want a shiraz? A riesling? A cheap moscato that tastes like lemonade Koolaid? Well, what I wanted more than anything was a grenache. But there were NONE. I stayed in that wine section way longer than humanly decent looking for one, and nothing.

I did however see this:

So I decide to get it, thinking why not, since I can't find what I want. Then I turn it around and read the back. It's a grenache. Of course it is.

Later that night The Boy called the 1-800 number on the back of the label. It said "Welcome to Great Palate Imports, home of the bacon of the month club".


  1. I've had that wine- got it for Christmas ;) It's not terrible.

  2. Not terrible is the best way to describe it.

  3. I was just looking at that stuff yesterday! You freaky mind reader...

    Someone searched for "glitter flakes in bitch wine." Sounds like a good party, right?

  4. That sounds like every night I ever spent as an underage fat girl in a gay club.


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