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ASTROLIQUOR for August 17-23—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

As an Aries you sometimes have difficulty maintaining civilized relationships, and this week it gets worse. Your psyche splits in half, freaking out friends and family. One minute you’re barring the door and ignoring your phone. Next minute you’re streaking around the block in a thong. This latter behavior is just a cover-up for the tender, squishy interior you’ve been hiding. Loosen it up with some vodka.

Taurus, one of your friends is into you—and very suddenly. You, however, have your eye on someone else. You could keep your options open just in case the latter fails to notice you. Then again, your admirer could well be a stalker who drinks all your Hennessy while you’re in the shower. It’s potentially a shit scenario, but you can’t very well hide from the world. The stars say go with your gut.

You’ll meet a flirt this week, Gemini, which could make for rocky times if you already have a steady squeeze. But you’re generally lucky, so you can get away with a fair bit. Whether you take the plunge has a lot to do with how much Captain Morgan’s in your bloodstream. Your best risk-taking days are Monday through Wednesday, but don’t look at me for answers on Thursday. 😦

An old photograph or video reminds you of an old friend, Cancer. Being naturally sentimental, you sail down memory lane, lamenting your lost relationship and wishing you’d had as much sense as you do now. Don’t start freaking out about your age, though. If you get even the slightest urge to go for Botox, break out the vodka and Southern Comfort. Even if booze doesn’t shake the impulse, no doctor will inject you when you’re hammered, although you might find a tattoo artist who’s willing.

Leo, your general health is improving. You feel stronger and more competitive. You’re sleeping better and managing stress in healthy ways. You’re waking up early and going for nature walks. OMG, how did this happen? Has your bartender started watering down your Jagermeister? Better find out—it’s not normal to feel this good.

Whatever people advise, you tend to do the opposite, Virgo. You lose patience for rules and order as the stars urge you toward peach schnapps, vodka, and Hypnotiq. Depending on your baseline level of introversion, this is either good or bad. (Ain’t it great how horoscopes are correct no matter what?)

Libra, you frequently feel insecure or even embarrassed about your physique. Pasty and sallow, you get your carbohydrates from Sprite and your other macronutrients from gin, hoping like hell juniper contains some vitamins. Wallowing in shame won’t help you, Libra. Not as much as much as wallowing in a nice bath with candles and more gin.

Your third eye is very acute this week, Scorpio. You’re seeing and hearing things that aren’t actually there. Lots of people—astrologers, for example—would consider this a gift, but you are a little weirded out. So intuitive are you that you make a sordid discovery about your own private life. Any Scorpio worth his/her salt loves going down this type of bizarre rabbit hole, so pop the champagne cork and celebrate! But do it after Sunday, because the stars say you’ll end up being designated driver all weekend.

Sagittarius, you’re mowing through your finances again, with no thought for the morrow. Your bar friends love you for this, but look out—everything comes to a screeching halt in October, and the money situation won’t look up until at least December. Not only that—you’re juggling multiple projects and not finishing anything. Try ratcheting back the Kahlua in your breakfast flask.

Relationships test your mettle this week, Capricorn. You may even be forced to choose between two people—a painful decision that calls for a rational mind. This you don’t have—not with your neurons swimming in rum and triple sec—and you could end up regretting your choice in December. Try not to jettison friendships, even if you have to tell some lies. This might mean capping that rum consumption so you can keep track of what you’ve said…can you do it?

Aquarius, cool your jets, there’s nothing that can’t wait a while. Where did this crazy sense of urgency come from? The world won’t stop if you slow down. Relax; try being late occasionally; ditch an AA meeting. Bet your workplace has enough type-A personalities, at least for this week. The recipe? Two ounces amaretto, two ounces coffee liqueur, in your morning Starbucks.

Pisces, lose the keyboard and go outside. Real people are more interesting in real life, and some of them have been trying to catch your eye for a while. Even if you think nature walks are for douchebags, you can make them work for you. What about a lovely picnic in a pastoral setting with a two-liter Fresca bottle and some Crown Royal?

THE WOLFTRAP VIOGNIER CHENIN BLANC GRENACHE BLANC (2011)—Another one Dad missed out on

My mother and I made twin (fraternal, not identical) realizations this week.

Hers: When we buy gin we drink it all. We mustn’t buy gin.

Mine: When we buy gin we drink it all. We must buy in bulk. We must get more samples. We must take our gin consumption to the next level.

These complementary insights aside, it was a good week for drinking. We moved house, which involved a lot of beer, and my dad went on another golf-tourney-calling-itself-a-business trip, which always means white wine. You see, my fellow inebriates, my dad isn’t a fan of white wine, so whenever he goes away, we buy it. For several reasons:

We deserve it. We are doing all bedtimes, all meals, all playdates, all the time. We need it.

We are afraid. We don’t know yet if Fluffy left his paranormal squatter at the old townhouse or if he moved with us. And since this house, being older, naturally goes bump in the night, we won’t know for a while if Fluffy is still haunted. So we need something at night to take the edge off while Dad’s away.

My dad is useless about white wine. He doesn’t get it at all. So we break it out when he leaves town.

This time we chose THE WOLFTRAP VIOGNIER CHENIN BLANC GRENACHE BLANC (2011). We hadn’t been disappointed by this much-lauded South African winery before, and we had $15 bucks (and not much else) left over after paying the movers, which amounted to a hell yes.

The only downside to drinking white wine are the tall glasses. I have to stand on my toes to get any—you’ll have to believe me because my mum wouldn’t take a picture (she said I was a narcissist). Although we have a set of Reidel stemless red wine glasses, we’ve resisted buying their white counterparts—because why would you want to get your sweaty paws all over your lovely chilled glass? Whether the glass shape makes a perceptible difference…I defer to The Dogs of Beer.

After a long day of unpacking (one of us) and observing the unpacking (the one without thumbs), THE WOLFTRAP was exactly the wine we needed. French oak-matured, this intriguing blend features 57% Viognier, 32% Chenin Blanc, and 11% Grenache Blanc. It wafts scented pear and grapefruit peel with ripe peaches behind—all items bears crave and would root through someone’s garbage for. But unlike my friend Scarybear’s Ideal Lunch, these aromas are zesty and fresh, with satisfying follow-through on the palate. The mouthfeel is generous and layered, almost buttery yet zingy with hints of vanilla and hazelnut, lingering much longer than I had any business expecting.

This intriguing white blend is a find for under $15—well worth having again, even if my dad’s home, which he is now. Did I mention he won a bike at his company’s golf tournament? Not bad, Dad! But he forgot to wear sunblock, so now he looks like a lobster.

Why August is the best month to be a “freegan”

No doubt about it, August is the best month to practice freeganism. Sure, any time of year you can help yourself to the odd morsel of unlucky roadside raccoon (extra points if you bag-and-barbecue the one that clawed its way through our neighbor’s swimming pool). But even better than already-dead varmints are yummy blackberries.

Not even hard-drinking bears who eschew solid food can resist blackberries. The way they burst forth every August with their ravishing aroma…free for the taking for anyone willing to piss off a few spiders—ahhhhhh!

My cheap-ass mother swears things taste better when they’re free, and she might be right about blackberries, if not raccoons.

The berries are calling out to be taken. Today the kids put up with a whole 15 minutes of picking before crying boredom, which gave us (as it happened) half a liquor-store shopping bag of the wondrous little fruits. What shall we do with them, my fellow inebriates?

Citrus Blackberry Collins

We need citrus vodka and blackberry liqueur for this concoction. Odds my parents will do it? 4,143:1 against

Blackberry Crush

Once again, this calls for vodka. Odds? 853:1 against

Blackberry Cocktail

Photo: Jim Franco
Styling: Scott Martin

This calls for gin, which we have, although my mum is causing it to disappear. Even if there is any left by the time we get mixing, the recipe’s weirder ingredients (cucumber with mint) may freak my unadventurous parents out. Odds? 548:1 against

Blackberry Caipirinha

A long time ago a liquor representative emailed a tantalizing invitation to taste Cachaca, one of this recipe’s main ingredients. By all means, send it, I said, but alas, it’s not simple to send booze to Canada, and the hooch never materialized. Odds? Sigh.

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Screw it. My mum can make muffins or whatever the hell she wants to throw those blackberries into, and I’ll have a gin & tonic (before she takes it all).