A four-ring circus

Dozens of journalists tweeting about how gross their hotels are…

Kevin Bishop tweet

Mark MacKinnon tweet

Stacy St. Clair tweet

 

Vladimir Putin’s alleged extramarital partner bearing the torch

Photo by Alberto Pizzoli/AFP/Getty Images

Photo by Alberto Pizzoli/AFP/Getty Images

 

The fifth ring failing to deploy…

Fifth ring no goIt’s a four-ring circus, my fellow inebriates. I ask you, would this have happened if Russia hadn’t scared all its gay event planners into hiding? Certainly not.

I prefer a five-ring circus.

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WELCH’S GRAPE JUICE—What the hell is this??

The day my precious Canadian Cream got poured down the sink, something inside of me died.

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It’s been hard to get back on track, my fellow inebriates, especially with the thumb-equipped humans in the house preoccupied with NaNoWriMo and Candy Crush Saga respectively. So much so that booze has been forgotten. OMG! And that’s why today’s review is not of booze but of something that <*sniff*> could have been booze.

Yes, I found the wretched stuff on the counter beside a Webkinz dog painfully tethered to a paper-towel holder, hanging from which were two Chihuahuas. If you think that sounds like Miss V’s work, you’re correct.

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124So what’s the deal with WELCH’S GRAPE JUICE? It kind of looks like wine, especially when poured into a nice crystal glass. But it’s all a lie, MFI. V says it’s “yummy,” and perhaps it is if you’re six, but if you’re an eight-year-old alcoholic bear, it’s a little glass of torture. It’s everything that could have been…

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MONASTERIO DE LAS VINAS (2006)—Needs no elevator pitch

My dad is considering switching industries, which means he’s been paying some overdue attention to his business speak. It occurred to him this week that he doesn’t have an “elevator pitch.” If you don’t know what an elevator pitch* is, read on, my fellow inebriates, because everyone should have one. As I said tauntingly to my dad, even I have one:

drunken little bear

advising hedonism:

party on, people

He says this is actually a haiku, but whatever, people. My dad doesn’t have an elevator pitch at all. So today I learned how to write a proper one, because I love my dad, plus I want him to bring even more liquor money home, and a good elevator pitch will help. Herewith, the five steps to writing a good elevator pitch—in this case applied to a bottle of wine.

Monasterio de las Vinas

1. Who are you?

I’m MONASTERIO DE LAS VINAS RESERVA (2006), a Spanish blend of Garnacha, Tempranillo, and Carinena, aged 12 months in oak barrels.

2. What do you do?

I exude aromas of berry and spice while leering from the decanter in a purplish way while LB’s parents make him wait to sample me. On the palate I’m full-bodied and rich with earthy notes, firm tannins, and a long finish. I’m mature without having a musty Old World character, and you can’t really beat me for $14.95.

3. Who do you do it for?

I’d like to say I appeal to all drinkers, but I don’t think hard-core alcoholics (LB excepted) are buying me very often, as they gravitate toward massive jugs of vodka and giant boxes featuring marsupials. Basically, I’m here for everybody, but if you like to spread your $14.95 more economically, you might pass me by.

4. What do they want or need?

Most wine drinkers have no idea we have hit “peak wine,” and that global demand for  wine is outstripping supply. In other words, you might be drinking wine because everybody else is. Some wine drinkers choose wine because they think beer will make them get fat or watch hockey. Some wine drinkers follow Robert Parker, who gave me 90 points, although he probably only swished me around his gums for 30 seconds or so. Drinkers like LB are thoroughly indiscriminate, so who knows? I have no idea what people want.

5. How do they change as a result?

They often get really freaking plastered, especially if they have a bottle to themselves.

Okay, so this isn’t working out exactly as I thought it would. Maybe you need to be sentient, like we are, MFI. This last statement—and I hope you’ve been following along with your own notes for this exercise, my fellow inebriates—this last statement is supposed to be the key to YOU and what you bring to the table. If you answer the five questions, you should be able to take your answer to number five—and voila! There’s your elevator pitch.

I expect my dad will be so grateful for this that he’ll buy me another bottle.

 

*I found these five steps in a Tedx talk but then foolishly cleared my cache and couldn’t retrieve it from my history. The reason I cleared my cache is that I didn’t want my dad to know I was playing Candy Crush Saga on Facebook, especially since I’ve been dissing him for playing it. And then there was all the porn too, but whatever.