Last night, I learned once again that I have no head for wine. I went with some friends to a wine tasting and dinner at Barcelona.
The wine tasting was fun, but I always feel like a giant goober at those things. I like wine - all sorts of wine - but I'm definitely not a wine snob. I'll drink $6 bottles from Kroger just as happily as I'll drink anything else.
People at wine tastings fall into two categories: people like me who have no clue what they're doing and people who pretend like they do.
It's all so dramatic: the sniffing, the swirling, the spitting, the discussions of oaky vs. buttery. I was at a wine tasting once where the guy told us to slurp our wine to aerate it and enhance the flavor. Please, like I'm going to want to be slurping up wine with my dinner. That'd be an attractive thing to do on a date. Why don't I wipe my mouth with my sleeve while I'm at it?
What's Better Than Wine? A Trip To Vegas!
While we were at dinner, the group decided we all need to go to Las Vegas for Labor Day weekend. Since my birthday falls on Labor Day this year (woo hoo), I'm all about it. If I have to turn 32, it might as well be somewhere where it's socially acceptable to wear feathers.
The husbands were extra-pleased that it's going to be my birthday, so they decided they're taking me to see male strippers. (The husbands think I'm funny.) They claim it's out of the goodness of their hearts, but I suspect they're going to try to get me up on stage.
I actually think male strip shows are hilarious - it's great people-watching. The men are so cheesy and it's funny to watch grandmothers stuff wads of cash where the sun don't shine. However, I do not find male strippers attractive at all. I'm actually petrified of them (like I am of clowns): their oily pecs, sock-stuffed G-strings, butt-length hair styles and vibrating buttocks.
Keep the Fabios away from me, please!