Spanish wine tastes like: a brown outfit from WalMart being run over by a muddy army tank. a bad reproduction of Guernica painted on cardboard and soaked in Pabst. Woodpeckers preserved and ground to a powder dusting an old man’s cane. A Cyclops dumbly mashing its head against a bull. I sanitize my wounds with … More An Ode to Spanish Wine
(You can read Part I here.) He led me to the Alsace section–all of five or six bottles. It is one of my favorite regions for wine, yet I have tasted relatively little, because it doesn’t get as much exposure as Bordeaux or Napa, or even the Loire. No one seems to ever have more … More Poor Girl in a Wine Store: Part II
(I realize it’s been months since I wrote the other two parts. I just got inspired to write other things, and never finished this. So here it is! You can read Part I here, and Part II here.) After finishing our dinner, we proceeded to speedwalk to the ArcLight Hollywood for “A Most Wanted Man,”–we … More Friday Night, Thirty-Four Years Old: Part III
Dear Universe, How much cleaning do I need to do to be a real woman? Television depicts squeaky clean, cute homes where dishes never seem to need washing. Women’s magazines showcase dust-free living rooms with perfectly up-to-date furniture. Nobody ever has clutter or an unmade bed—ever. I have understood since I was a child that … More How Much Cleaning Do I Need to Do to Be a Real Woman?
Nose: fruit leather, Dr. Pepper, red bell pepper, kebab meat Palate: anise, lollipop, black olive, balsamic vinegar Cost: $6 at Ralph’s
See Part I here. We got to the restaurant, and a happy surprise awaited us—hardly any customers. Peace and quiet! Music to the ears of two unhip Gen Xers who hear quite enough screeching in the classroom on a daily basis. The hostess sported a designer black dress and long, blond, ironed hair. She had … More Friday Night, Thirty-four Years Old: Part II
I walked into the tiny wine shop from the pouring rain, soaked from head to toe. My three-year old jacket and grubby shoes let the two clerks know immediately that I was there to spend $12 and $12 only, and thus, they left me alone. The two men busied themselves instead with helping a rich … More Poor Girl in a Wine Store: Part I
