A grape walks into a bar...
In a rare case of foresight and readiness, I am typing this post in hopes to quell the uprising that will occur when both of my readers (Collin and Derek) have seen that I have not posted anything this week.
I'm busy this week. And while I'd rather be blogging about wine tasting or smoked meats, I can't. Instead, I'm relegated to shitty technical writing about printers, scanners, processors, and technologies.
I digress.
It's been a slow run for creative projects lately...it's starting to wear me out, can't you tell?
Anyhow...what better way to curb the appetitie for complaining about lack of posts than to post photos?
And now, without further ado, here's some pics from the wine trip:
-This is the first winery. The time? Around noon - the perfect time to start drinking femented grape juice. You'll notice everyone is still happy and smiling. This is key.
-This is the fourth winery. You can tell because 1: SockMama (in the center) is bending down, obviously hyper-aware of her immense height and need to be in a chorus line, 2: The guy next to her is having trouble straightening his knees, and 3: The first instance of "Rabbit Ears" has made its way into photos.
- Winery numero sies. Or siete, I'm not sure. It's kind of a blur at that point. See that large pallet of wine there? That's ours.
Not really. Although this place did have awesome wine. In fact, it was the best winery of the day, a fitting conclusion to a day of drinking grape squeezins'. As exemplified by this shot:
- Again, notice the rabbit ears and the giant grins; this is obviously deep in the day. Also, you'll notice the small dwarf in the front there? That's Amy. The designated driver. Look closely - she's on the verge of manslaughter.
After the last winery, we made our way to a brewpub closeby. After all, what's a day of drinking without capping it off with more drinking? This is what transpired in the van on the way there:
- The agape jaws and squinty eyes pretty much say it all
- Yes. That's me there in the back, baguette in hand, listening to a friend of mine spell out the virtures of physical therapy and kittens. I didn't ask, so you can't either.
- The parking lot of the brewpub. I'm not sure when exactly the women in the group decided to start feeling each other's breasts, but it was probably right before this shot.
- Obviously, wine is a very intellectual drink, a concoction that should only be enjoyed when one has the cerebral capacity to overtly express the intracacies and delacacies of the grape itself. I'm sorry, what? Pass me that bottle, would you?
I'm busy this week. And while I'd rather be blogging about wine tasting or smoked meats, I can't. Instead, I'm relegated to shitty technical writing about printers, scanners, processors, and technologies.
I digress.
It's been a slow run for creative projects lately...it's starting to wear me out, can't you tell?
Anyhow...what better way to curb the appetitie for complaining about lack of posts than to post photos?
And now, without further ado, here's some pics from the wine trip:
-This is the first winery. The time? Around noon - the perfect time to start drinking femented grape juice. You'll notice everyone is still happy and smiling. This is key.
-This is the fourth winery. You can tell because 1: SockMama (in the center) is bending down, obviously hyper-aware of her immense height and need to be in a chorus line, 2: The guy next to her is having trouble straightening his knees, and 3: The first instance of "Rabbit Ears" has made its way into photos.
- Winery numero sies. Or siete, I'm not sure. It's kind of a blur at that point. See that large pallet of wine there? That's ours.
Not really. Although this place did have awesome wine. In fact, it was the best winery of the day, a fitting conclusion to a day of drinking grape squeezins'. As exemplified by this shot:
- Again, notice the rabbit ears and the giant grins; this is obviously deep in the day. Also, you'll notice the small dwarf in the front there? That's Amy. The designated driver. Look closely - she's on the verge of manslaughter.
After the last winery, we made our way to a brewpub closeby. After all, what's a day of drinking without capping it off with more drinking? This is what transpired in the van on the way there:
- The agape jaws and squinty eyes pretty much say it all
- Yes. That's me there in the back, baguette in hand, listening to a friend of mine spell out the virtures of physical therapy and kittens. I didn't ask, so you can't either.
- The parking lot of the brewpub. I'm not sure when exactly the women in the group decided to start feeling each other's breasts, but it was probably right before this shot.
- Obviously, wine is a very intellectual drink, a concoction that should only be enjoyed when one has the cerebral capacity to overtly express the intracacies and delacacies of the grape itself. I'm sorry, what? Pass me that bottle, would you?
posted by The Haiku Review at 8:07 AM
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