My Fellow Inebriates,
Here’s your booze horoscope.
Aries, your house is looking blah. You have a lot of boring colors on the walls—it’s time to go wild with paint. But how will you choose which colors? For starters, you’ll need some gin. Slosh it into a glass with an equal quantity of cheap white wine, then about half that much triple sec. Do not add club soda! You need to get away from your pastel sensibilities and into some harsh, jarring flavors. That will inspire you. Now…get a sober friend to drive you to Home Depot. Choose your paint. Shoo the sober friend away once you’re back at home and start painting. Yay! You will totally love waking up and discovering your new decor. Trust me.
Taurus, it’s time to switch gears and do something exciting. Make sure to visit bars every day after work (during, if you can get away with it). Then reel over to the all-night gym and don your spandex. Even though you’d be amazed how common acid reflux is when you’re attempting a heavy bent-over row after pounding a jug of Tequila, OJ, and Blue Curacao, it really is a good idea to get some exercise. Trust me. Any friends you lose this week due to (your) erratic behavior weren’t very good friends to start with.
Gemini, this week is all about meeting new people and widening your circles. But you’re not feeling open minded, so perhaps you’ll need to soften yourself up with some kind of gin-and-rum concoction. Once you do, you’ll have all kinds of adventures, especially on Friday/Saturday. Trust me. And take your toothbrush with you just in case you get arrested.
Cancer, this week you’ll meet someone from another planet, or at least someone claiming extraterrestrial origins. How cool is that? Try to get hold of whatever chemicals this person is enjoying. Failing that, be sure to up-end a big bottle of cheap sherry—close enough, right? A very sordid (and obviously not reality-based) relationship will ensue, with a dramatic break-up in August. And then, you’ll get a random phone call from a friend who was dying and isn’t now. How cool is that????
Leo, an old disagreement with a good friend is festering—why not fix it up this week? Once you realize how silly the whole thing was, you can go back to business as usual: i.e., drinking vats of brandy, blue curacao, and white creme de cacao (equal parts) with cream and lemon juice (trust me—also equal parts) over ice. But the two of you will have to talk first, so try to do that before you get the cocktail shaker out.
Virgo, if you’re in a helping profession, the stars forecast good times ahead. Yes, people will keep bugging you for stuff, and yes, you’ll still be underpaid. But other things—tangential things—will be good. For instance, you’ll gain a secret admirer (okay, this could be a stalker). You’ll also have a nutty yuccaflux party for all your co-workers. So find a bunch of fruit and invite everybody to bring whatever…brandy, rum, whisky, Benedictine…Trust me, yuccaflux is best with no rules.
After some drunken soul-searching you’ll discover you dislike your job, Libra. Like, a lot. In fact, you’re doing a lot of shit you never had any intention of doing. Start putting out feelers before you go apeshit; it’s far easier to get a job when you have a job. If you have a LinkedIn profile, perhaps you should tidy it up and make it more professional. If, for instance, you type a blog for a drunken bear but also want to be hired for serious freelance jobs, perhaps you shouldn’t mention that blog. Trust me. As for booze? The stars have you mixing equal parts Bushmill’s Irish Whisky and Bailey’s Irish Cream. What could go wrong?
No more relaxing, Scorpio. Key words are consolidation, responsibility, and accountability. Clear up old projects and hide any past f#ck-ups. Strive single-mindedly at least until August. Keep your buzz minimal and tone down that boozy aura by adding filling mixers like cream to your rum. Remember: If you put it in a coffee, you’re still ready for work. Trust me.
The next few months mark an exploration of your spiritual side, Sagittarius, unless of course you are an atheist, in which case you will have to stick with the (ha!) merely numinous or wig out watching reruns of Cosmos. Try not to get into any interviews with Wolf Blitzer; he will ask you why you’re not engaged in God-bothering when you’re busy trying to get the vodka/vermouth balance exactly right and debating olive vs twist.
It’s time to make a change, Capricorn, but it has to be a quick change. No thinking is called for. This is an excellent time to take over unceremoniously, insisting your instincts are bang-on and that qualifications are for pussies. You’ll exude so much energy and confidence that your whole team will applaud your coup d’etat and commence serving you elaborate drinks such as this one:
- 4 oz Bacardi 151
- 3 oz creme de coconut (the very stuff of a good dictatorship)
- 3 oz Kahlua
- 3 oz white creme de cacao
- 3 oz cream
Yeah, they want you to pass out so things can go back to normal.
Aquarius, you’re in for a remarkable week. Constellations are swirling into place and granting you extra powers. You’ll have radar for scammers and stamina when the shit starts hitting the fan (Tuesday). Do your best to keep self-doubt at bay, Aquarius; in August you’ll realize you were right about everything. You’ll also get lucky this week. So start pouring Benedictine and brandy, because that’s what the stars say to do. And how could insensate balls of fiery gas know that? Trust me, they know somehow.
Pisces, you’re starting to feel as though you share a brain with your co-workers; that’s how tickety-boo everything is going. This isn’t like you, Pisces; of all the signs you are the Master of the Cardboard Box, but hang with it because it seems to be working. You might even persuade deadbeats who owe you money to send a cheque. That would be awesome because then you could buy two different varieties of brandy plus some Bitters. Yeah! A proper bar at last. You deserve it, Pisces.
Today Mum decided to cook with wine. My long-term fellow inebriates will know how offensive this is and maybe offer some sympathy. Cooking! Seriously. That’s not what we do with wine.
So. So then. Let’s alleviate the despair with a video. If you have a two-year-old or have ever been bound from head to toe in a tensor bandage by one, you’ll probably like this.
My Fellow Inebriates,
The head-lice notice came home from school AGAIN today. This time a kid in Miss V’s class has bugs, so my dad spent 15 minutes this evening combing through both girls’ hair to make sure LBHQ hadn’t been infested.
Despite her habit of bestowing hugs upon and sharing hats with every friend she has, P was relaxed during the inspection. V was freaking, though. Every few weeks one classmate or another has been positive for lice, and V is a natural pessimist, so she was probably thinking her number had come up.
Phew. No lice.
And that’s how the kids felt. Read this (from HealthLinkBC) and you’ll get a sense of how I felt.
Anything that can’t be washed (i.e., Blankets, coats, headwear, stuffed toys [italics mine]) can be treated by: placing in a closed plastic bag for 10 days or putting in a hot dryer for 20 minutes or putting in the freezer for 48 hours or ironing it.
The choices, again:
- Cooking/suffocation with motion sickness as a side bonus
- Cryonic stasis (beside meat, probably)
- Flattening and hot-branding
I repeat, OMFG, people. I need a drink stat. And the kids need to shave their heads. But FIRST I NEED A DRINK.
BEAR FLAG DARK RED BLEND to the rescue. Christine left this $13 bottle of unpretentious California vino when she visited last week, along with a sweater I’ve been using as a blanket. You should never really share sweaters if you’re concerned about lice, but we had no idea we’d be on Yellow Alert about lice, and I don’t think Christine meant to leave her sweater, especially since she could have predicted that I’d fetishize it. She did mean to leave the wine, because Christine is wonderful and genuinely cares about my alcohol supply.
BEAR FLAG DARK RED BLEND bills itself as a “big, bold blend” of dark varietals (Zinfandel, Petite Sirah, Alicante Bouschet, Petit Verdot, and Tempranillo—a veritable Heinz-57 mixture). Compare the “DARK RED” with BEAR FLAG’s three other products (SMOOTH RED, SOFT WHITE, and BRIGHT WHITE) and you can see this outfit is all about sloshing as much into the vat as possible and seeing what comes out. Slap a hideous label on it and voila! Low expectations.
Promised tasting notes include chocolate, coffee, and blueberries accompanied by low tannins—an easy-drinker you could stuff under your arm and take to a casual barbeque. Let’s pour it.
Yes, it is a dark red wine, but not to the point of opacity. If anything it’s ruby-garnet and very agreeable to contemplate as it opens up. First aromas: earth, tobacco, stone fruit, and a slight 28-day wine kit–like backnote. First sips are pleasant, although I beg to differ with BEAR FLAG’s own marketing copy on boldness. This is a medium-bodied, fruit-forward wine with some sharp notes that mosh a little roughly with the rest of their tasting-note compadres.
BEAR FLAG reminds me a lot of Granny (my dead Granny, that is) because she probably would have liked it. Granny wasn’t an asshole about wine the way my parents are; she didn’t require a jammy explosion, and she probably would have enjoyed BEAR FLAG for what it is: an uncomplicated and totally drinkable blend. And if Granny hadn’t been too nice to say so, perhaps she would have told my parents off for being wine dickheads. Perhaps she would have told them they need to actually know something about wine to diss it credibly. And then she and I would have taken the bottle outside and downed it while she had a smoke.
Which is to say, I like BEAR FLAG. It’s not my favorite $13 wine, nor is it the most interesting wine in its price range. But it has a wacky, freaky label, especially if you like weird art, and—for you solid food fans—it probably would go pretty well with, um, what’s a solid food you would barbeque? How about a hamburger? I bet solid-food eaters would love BEAR FLAG with a hamburger. But they’d probably be freaked out when they opened the freezer to take the meat out and there was this frozen alcoholic bear beside it staring at them accusingly.
Luckily that won’t happen because the kids don’t have lice. This time.