I am currently stocking up on wine for a large party that we are hosting in October. This is **way** more dangerous than buying Halloween candy too early. I better find a damn good hiding place.
…or were wondering where the fuck it came from, here’s a little history on the name, Foxy Wine Pocket. I’m either a creative genius or drunken fool. Maybe a little of both?
Luckily I don’t have to go on a scavenger hunt all over town for my school supplies. BevMo! has everything I need—and their 5 Cent Wine Sales are amazing. Think of all the money I’ll save.
Colin needed a new swimsuit so we headed over to Target. As we’re perusing the aisles, I stumble across these two gems:
One is just wrong, and one is the right amount of wrong. One makes me want to gag, and one makes me hopeful for our next day at the park. One seems like an abomination of all things good and holy, and the other just seems smart.
Can you guess which is which? Here, let me give you a hint:
I hope that was clear.
Granted, I’ve never actually tried either one of these so this may be the equivalent of judging a clown by his make-up (actually, all clowns are evil so nevermind), but I’m going on gut instinct here. I’ve consumed
a shit-ton an appropriately moderate amount of wine in my day and feel qualified to pre-judge in this case.
But feel free to bring some of each by my house and prove me wrong.
It’s all fun and games until you drop the champagne bottle (while pouring), and it smashes down on the champagne glass, which then breaks and spills champagne and shards of glass all over the table and the floor.
Yeah, then it’s not fun anymore.
Rather than drink the rest of the wine I was cooking with, I froze it for the next time I make that particular sauce. I don’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted with myself.
Now I can’t be certain—because I didn’t take French and all—but I’m pretty sure the instructions on this bottle of Folie à Deux Ménage à Trois say I’m supposed to have three glasses.
It’s definitely summer around here, folks.