Wine Time

Sometimes the typing digits are just alive with pleasure (even better than a particular brand of smokes) and the keypads just need to be struck.
I have been having a truly swell evening and was wondering, if you put ice cubes in wine does that make it a wine cooler?
Nope just makes it even nastier.
Drinking wine is lame the drunk is good, but it automatically makes you pretentious. Five minutes ago I was wearing sweats and a hoody, now an ascot... I don't even own a fucking ascot and wear did this cumber bun come from?
How droll!
I may start regaling you with tales of my conquests at Yale or my rowing prowess.
What the fuck?
What is the vintage of this Bordeaux; mmm earthy with a hint of sandalwood.
Seriously this is the wine talking.
There is a refridgerator full of that pedestrian beverage the heathens call beer.
Jazz is deliscious and I simply adore the prophetic stylings of Mr. Josh Groban.
My Love of 60's French cinema is only surpassed by my adulation of Nitzsche.
Maybe tomorrow we should go to the cafe and have cappucino, but only before ten... no one drinks cappucino after the settling of the mid morning dew.
If one were to suppose his place in the universe were merely more than a fragmentation of time would you consider him to be a visionary or your standard philosophy professor?
It is true what they say you know? our perceived role within our own peer group is a reflection of our own infantile wanton need for acceptance within the sub draconian layers of self guilt passed to us by the diffusion of said memes.
Time to let the wine breath!