If you live in Pennsylvania you know that there are all sorts of whacked out rules and regulations about buying booze and you can't buy liquor and beer at the same place and you can't buy six packs at the beer distributors and you can't buy more than 24 beers from a deli and you can't buy beer at the grocery store and all the liquor stores are owned by the state because they like to tax you out of the arse.
But despite the fact that all state-owned Wine and Spirits Shoppes look exactly the same, I still enjoy my visits so much that I could spend an entire afternoon perusing the aisles. I love the smell of the liquor store. I love the way the bottles look lined up in neat little rows organized by country. I love the feeling of potential I get every time I step inside. Like maybe I'll discover a fantastic new wine I've never tasted before. Maybe I'll find a $50 bottle on sale for $12.99. Maybe they'll be giving out free samples again today.
And just like potato chips, I can never get just one bottle of wine. And in our house, B usually pays for the groceries and I pay for the wine, which just about evens out every week. So, naturally, yesterday when I walked back into the house after my trip to the liquor store B was all how many bottles did you buy this time? And it was considered a considerable success in personal restraint that I only came home with three.
ANYWAY. Not only was last night's party a fantastic idea because it gave me an opportunity to buy and drink wine, but also to spend an entire evening
And now it's time for some Yellaphant math. As we've already learned, eight girls + eight bottles of wine + a table of food = an inarguable and inevitable night spent gabbing about hoohas. With some other pressing issues sprinkled in there like Old Bay on top of a plate of crabettes. And that's what we call therapy. Which may or may not have resulted in eight empty wine bottles and someone on their back on the kitchen floor. Naturally. Tweet