I have just returned from a week-long trip through Wine Country with my mom (Napa Valley, Sonoma Valley, and Alexander Valley, for you non-California noobs), and I am thusly ruined for cheap wine forever. Yes, I spent eight days learning about fruit and barrels and how long to let a new bottle warm up, so now I too can tell you that your fermented grape juice smells like blackberry jam, is low in tannins, and is too oaky for my palette. I have just become more annoying by an increment of 5.
However, spitting out fancy wine into silver buckets is not all we did. We embarked on many explorations of culinary and outdoorsy varieties, resulting in a happy tummy and some rather unique tan lines. However, the perfect end to our sojourn – the chocolate and white pepper finish, if you will – came last night. Long story short, I said all the right things, and we got yanked out of the stand-by line two minutes before curtain to get primo orchestra section seats to, holy shit, Eddie Izzard. On my mom’s birthday, no less. Epic win. I have been quoting this man since the age of 17, and seeing him live from the best seats I’ve ever had at a show ever was mindblowingly awesome. His new tour is called Stripped, it’s fabulous, it’s the best thing he’s done since Dress To Kill, and if it is in your city, you must go see it.
That said, I am wretchedly behind in comics, and The Dark Knight has been out for two days without my having seen it, which is criminal. This all needs to be remedied and blogged about post-haste, as I am taking off again on Saturday. Never fear, internets, I shall be swift.