Saturday's Storyteller: "My dream job is to be the person who writes elaborate descriptions on the backs of wine bottles." - The SEQUEL!
by Belinda Roddie
My dream job is to be the person who writes elaborate descriptions on the backs of wine bottles. That hasn't changed for the past two years. I mean, c'mon, the stuff you read on those things? It just keeps getting better and better. The dramatic language. The insane nitpicking of flavors. The incessant use of a thesaurus, most likely, to detail the aromas of your alcohol! When truly, all I taste is some variety of fermented grape.
Now, I haven't got any bite from the winemakers here, and frankly, I don't know why. Perhaps it's more they want. More chutzpah, more shazam, more shine, they say? Well, I'm ready to provide it - alliteration and all. Don't back down from the best wine bottle label writer in town. Give me a chance, my boozed up bros!
So here we go. Part Two. Deuxième partie. Let's do this. You ready? I'm ready.
Debauchery (Red Blend)
Debauchery Red is an outright detonation of gargantuan fruit flavors and staggering aromas of blackberries, black cherries, black raspberries, and a little bit of black magic. Huge. For the crude crusader in all of us. Perfect for different meats that you just can't fucking find in a regular American grocery store - like rattlesnake sausage, rhino steak, and of course, the classic angry anteater tenderloin.
Sally Strange and Her Ex-Wife (Sauvignon Blanc)
Sally Strange and Her Ex-Wife's wine simply sparkles with aromas of tangerine, disappointment, and the mown lawn of the house that you just can't split between you. Round, bold palate pleasers rise to the post-marital challenge, practically erupting with temperamental screams of citrus, peach, and passionfruit (a different kind of passion, not the kind that Sally gets with her new girlfriend who knows how to stimulate her properly). Brought to you from vineyards which revenue shouldn't be included in the alimony, right, Sally? ...Right, Sally?
Oh, and this wine is from New Zealand. Yeah. Take that, U.S. of Assholes!
Not Again (2017 Cabernet Sauvignon)
Why are we doing this? Why are we still here? What's our purpose? Are we really just meant to harvest grapes all year? I could have become a lawyer or a doctor! But no, here I am, watching all the other vineyards burn to the ground thanks to goddamn wildfires exacerbated by goddamn climate change. Am I proud? Not really! I have my father to thank for this bullshit. Masterpiece? Pffft. I'll masterpiece your face, Dad. Black fruit concentrate and spice? Are you kidding me? Luxury and grace in a bottle? What are we, a fucking fashion runway? The wine tastes like dirt. Dirt. Four generations producing stuff like tastes like dirt. Fucking dirt, Dad!
Mah Disco (Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc; yes, another one)
A fragrance of lemon trees in a rich man's orchard. Crushed nectarine like Zeus has stomped a fuckton of citrus beneath his sandaled feet. In the woods and forests, fairies come to drink and dance. And they dance to disco, baby. Don't ask questions, and I'll tell you no lies: I'ma groove to the mood and the 'tude and the dude who buys this shit for fifteen bucks because he doesn't know any fucking better. New Zealand, bitches!
Also, the fuck does, "knotted string of full-bodied, intense acid" mean? Are we upsetting our pH? Is it tripping time?!
Phallus Avenue (Chardonnay)
Don't. Just...don't, okay. Like, don't...ask. My uncle, he's...he is a seriously broken man. Okay? Like, stupid IT tech bleating, "Have you tried turning it off and on again?" broken. Look, I'm doing my best with him, but he's not changing nothing. He's into penis jokes, and capitalism is a bitch.
He doesn't even drink the stuff, either. He's a bourbon boy, all right? A sad, pathetic, beer-bellied bourbon boy who's gone gray before fifty and still doesn't know where the clitoris is.
This stuff's got pineapple in it, though. Ya like pineapple?!
New Leaf (Malbec)
Nonononono-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO. NO. NEVER AGAIN. NEVER. AGAIN. OKAY, SHEILA? OKAY?! SHEILA?! YOU GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE AND MAKE A NAME FOR YOURSELF. NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY! OKAY? OUT. OUT. OOOOOUUUUUUT.
Stellar with steak, pork, and lamb shanks. Yum, yum!
Hire me. Right the fuck now.
Yes, everyone: For the first time ever (not including the series I write like John and Aaron or Granny and Branson), I have written a sequel to a Storyteller! My parents, wife, and I tasted some wines for my sister and bro-in-law's upcoming California party celebrating their wedding, and the descriptions on the bottles...again, just brilliant. I got a lot of inspiration and just went to town and had a lot of fun. So I hoped you liked!
My dream job is to be the person who writes elaborate descriptions on the backs of wine bottles. That hasn't changed for the past two years. I mean, c'mon, the stuff you read on those things? It just keeps getting better and better. The dramatic language. The insane nitpicking of flavors. The incessant use of a thesaurus, most likely, to detail the aromas of your alcohol! When truly, all I taste is some variety of fermented grape.
Now, I haven't got any bite from the winemakers here, and frankly, I don't know why. Perhaps it's more they want. More chutzpah, more shazam, more shine, they say? Well, I'm ready to provide it - alliteration and all. Don't back down from the best wine bottle label writer in town. Give me a chance, my boozed up bros!
So here we go. Part Two. Deuxième partie. Let's do this. You ready? I'm ready.
Debauchery (Red Blend)
Debauchery Red is an outright detonation of gargantuan fruit flavors and staggering aromas of blackberries, black cherries, black raspberries, and a little bit of black magic. Huge. For the crude crusader in all of us. Perfect for different meats that you just can't fucking find in a regular American grocery store - like rattlesnake sausage, rhino steak, and of course, the classic angry anteater tenderloin.
Sally Strange and Her Ex-Wife (Sauvignon Blanc)
Sally Strange and Her Ex-Wife's wine simply sparkles with aromas of tangerine, disappointment, and the mown lawn of the house that you just can't split between you. Round, bold palate pleasers rise to the post-marital challenge, practically erupting with temperamental screams of citrus, peach, and passionfruit (a different kind of passion, not the kind that Sally gets with her new girlfriend who knows how to stimulate her properly). Brought to you from vineyards which revenue shouldn't be included in the alimony, right, Sally? ...Right, Sally?
Oh, and this wine is from New Zealand. Yeah. Take that, U.S. of Assholes!
Not Again (2017 Cabernet Sauvignon)
Why are we doing this? Why are we still here? What's our purpose? Are we really just meant to harvest grapes all year? I could have become a lawyer or a doctor! But no, here I am, watching all the other vineyards burn to the ground thanks to goddamn wildfires exacerbated by goddamn climate change. Am I proud? Not really! I have my father to thank for this bullshit. Masterpiece? Pffft. I'll masterpiece your face, Dad. Black fruit concentrate and spice? Are you kidding me? Luxury and grace in a bottle? What are we, a fucking fashion runway? The wine tastes like dirt. Dirt. Four generations producing stuff like tastes like dirt. Fucking dirt, Dad!
Mah Disco (Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc; yes, another one)
A fragrance of lemon trees in a rich man's orchard. Crushed nectarine like Zeus has stomped a fuckton of citrus beneath his sandaled feet. In the woods and forests, fairies come to drink and dance. And they dance to disco, baby. Don't ask questions, and I'll tell you no lies: I'ma groove to the mood and the 'tude and the dude who buys this shit for fifteen bucks because he doesn't know any fucking better. New Zealand, bitches!
Also, the fuck does, "knotted string of full-bodied, intense acid" mean? Are we upsetting our pH? Is it tripping time?!
Phallus Avenue (Chardonnay)
Don't. Just...don't, okay. Like, don't...ask. My uncle, he's...he is a seriously broken man. Okay? Like, stupid IT tech bleating, "Have you tried turning it off and on again?" broken. Look, I'm doing my best with him, but he's not changing nothing. He's into penis jokes, and capitalism is a bitch.
He doesn't even drink the stuff, either. He's a bourbon boy, all right? A sad, pathetic, beer-bellied bourbon boy who's gone gray before fifty and still doesn't know where the clitoris is.
This stuff's got pineapple in it, though. Ya like pineapple?!
New Leaf (Malbec)
Nonononono-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO. NO. NEVER AGAIN. NEVER. AGAIN. OKAY, SHEILA? OKAY?! SHEILA?! YOU GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE AND MAKE A NAME FOR YOURSELF. NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY! OKAY? OUT. OUT. OOOOOUUUUUUT.
Stellar with steak, pork, and lamb shanks. Yum, yum!
Hire me. Right the fuck now.
Yes, everyone: For the first time ever (not including the series I write like John and Aaron or Granny and Branson), I have written a sequel to a Storyteller! My parents, wife, and I tasted some wines for my sister and bro-in-law's upcoming California party celebrating their wedding, and the descriptions on the bottles...again, just brilliant. I got a lot of inspiration and just went to town and had a lot of fun. So I hoped you liked!
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