Jillfish is (not) out of water
This morning I made pancakes without setting off my smoke detector (hallelujah!) and ran off to have a hot mid-morning date with my good friends MegaJill at the local wine warehouse. As far as Saturday mornings go, this is the paragon. Certainly way more awesome that the barre class I cancelled, even if you haters would classify it as less healthy and probably indicative of nascent alcoholism.
(By the way, MegaJill is like Brangelina but way cooler because it's Jill and Megan AND because it sounds like something that would totally rampage Tokyo alongside Mothra, but probably with a lot more pinkies up.)
Anyway, it's the Jillfish's big birthday and we knew that the best way to ring it in would be to put her in a classy sash and help her fill a cart full of delightful fermented beverages. And cigars, we decided we all needed cigars. AND because it's super lame that they won't do wine tastings until after noon, that immediately afterwards we should taste test all the canned wines on the market except ManCan. Because science.
(As the sole representative from the man delegation last year at my Delta Banjo Birthday Weekend, Phil taste tested the ManCan white and he gave it all the thumbs down. It's not delightful and we all suspect it's probably one of the reasons (besides not knowing that the throttle went THAT way) why he hit a dock with our rented boat.)
For our test we selected a line of House Wines: a rose with bubbles, a chardonnay, and a pinot. Along side that, we were very exclusive, grabbing any single craft beer and/or cider with a cool label.
Megan models the house wine
Following several rounds of tasting, a few red solo cups, a battle with two very large black spiders, us planning how our camping rigs might stand up against the zombie apocalypse, and some stinky, wet canopy cord in our palate cleansing salsa, we decided that several wines were far from good but probably "camping acceptable," and that the fonts on the cans made them well worth our time. The second part of our test involved a rousing game of bean bag toss, which might have been partially recorded but will probably not be released due to explicit language.
For science... because California... and it's JILLFISH'S birthday!
Having exhausted all tests, we now have conclusive evidence that canned wine leads to consumption of more canned wine, hot dogs, sending Marco Polos to the wrong people, and possibly one player yelling "Sack up, ladies!" loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.
I'm waiting for the hot rollers to get hot, so I can make myself presentable enough to eat all the beignets and test all of the gin mixology at Jillfish's birthday dinner, so this post is kind of incomplete... but I think it achieved the goal of wanting to pop off a HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my friend of almost 30 years. I figure this is at least as good as a birthday card.
Now I have to go argue with Phil about my artfully ripped jeans and how they're just as good to wear to dinner as shorts that can be used to store fishing tackle.
