I gotta move to a bigger city
This is a random sort of story, but I thought I'd share it anyway.
In a previous blog entry, I mentioned that I spent the night at a friend's house a couple weeks ago. Being the generous sort of friend that I am, I stopped to buy a bottle of wine todrink myself share. On my way to pick up the kid, I pulled up at a liquor store that is near her school (I know everyone around here does it, but I just can't bring myself to take my child into chez de la booze - I stop on the way like the fine, upstanding parent I am).
As I stepped into the store, I noticed a man standing behind a table near the entrance. On the table sat a small metal tub with a few beers in it. There was a whiteboard next to him that bore some sort of announcement about "Belgian Beer Tasting with Ralph!" His name may not have been Ralph. I might be making that part up. But it was definitely beer and definitely Belgian.
He smiled at me as I walked by and said, "Hey, would you like to sample a Belgian beer?"
"Ah, no thanks," I replied. "I'm more of a wine girl."
Just then, the owner of the liquor store breezed through behind me, carrying a case of something or other. "Oh," he said to Ralph, "She likes Riesling!"
Oh no he di-int.
Undeterred, Ralph called me over and insisted I try a sample of beer. "You probably won't even think it tastes like beer!" he exclaimed. He poured me a wee plastic cup full of brown liquid. I stood there and sipped it delicately, like the girlie wine drinker I am.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"Well . . . " I paused. "It tastes every bit like beer."
Ralph was itching to tell me about the fermentation process and whatever else happens to beer before it becomes the undrinkable shit that it is. The thing is, though, I couldn't help but like Ralph. He was tall and had blue eyes and disheveled grayish-brown hair. He was just so darned enthusiastic about the beer that I had no choice but to stand there and sip the bitter swill.
Finally, I choked down the last sip, thanked Ralph, and headed to "my" aisle. Just to throw the store owner off the trail, I bought a bottle of apple wine. Take THAT, Mr. I-know-what-you-drink!
Now, I think it's clear that I need to choose another liquor store. I don't want to be like Norm on Cheers when I walk into a booze shop. In fact, I should probably move to another town altogether. Hmph!
In a previous blog entry, I mentioned that I spent the night at a friend's house a couple weeks ago. Being the generous sort of friend that I am, I stopped to buy a bottle of wine to
As I stepped into the store, I noticed a man standing behind a table near the entrance. On the table sat a small metal tub with a few beers in it. There was a whiteboard next to him that bore some sort of announcement about "Belgian Beer Tasting with Ralph!" His name may not have been Ralph. I might be making that part up. But it was definitely beer and definitely Belgian.
He smiled at me as I walked by and said, "Hey, would you like to sample a Belgian beer?"
"Ah, no thanks," I replied. "I'm more of a wine girl."
Just then, the owner of the liquor store breezed through behind me, carrying a case of something or other. "Oh," he said to Ralph, "She likes Riesling!"
Oh no he di-int.
Undeterred, Ralph called me over and insisted I try a sample of beer. "You probably won't even think it tastes like beer!" he exclaimed. He poured me a wee plastic cup full of brown liquid. I stood there and sipped it delicately, like the girlie wine drinker I am.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"Well . . . " I paused. "It tastes every bit like beer."
Ralph was itching to tell me about the fermentation process and whatever else happens to beer before it becomes the undrinkable shit that it is. The thing is, though, I couldn't help but like Ralph. He was tall and had blue eyes and disheveled grayish-brown hair. He was just so darned enthusiastic about the beer that I had no choice but to stand there and sip the bitter swill.
Finally, I choked down the last sip, thanked Ralph, and headed to "my" aisle. Just to throw the store owner off the trail, I bought a bottle of apple wine. Take THAT, Mr. I-know-what-you-drink!
Now, I think it's clear that I need to choose another liquor store. I don't want to be like Norm on Cheers when I walk into a booze shop. In fact, I should probably move to another town altogether. Hmph!
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