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napa and a sour grape or two.

Went to Napa last weekend. Napa, for those of you that have lived your entire lives under a rock, or grew up in Upstate New York, is wine country.

Young people who get paid a lot of money because they can figure out how to use a mouse beyond AODrool and searching for porn go up there all the time to sip wine, eat well, and generally have a nice relaxing time and chat and sometimes come up with pretty decent ideas. Mainly, though, they go to drink wine.

I'm not that young anymore, but J and PaulJack let me come with them anyway. I think its because Greg was there, too.

As a side affect of being a place where people go to spend money, Napa is pricey and a little snooty.

We get into town at about 1 and need to eat. J knows about ths place called Mustards, we get there and apparently everyone knows about this place. The wait - 55 minutes.

That is, untill Greg "Marlboro Man" Barber trells the hostess shes beautiful. Wait time - now 15 minutes.

As J puts it: Ladies, He is Single!

Through the magis that id Greg we get seated faster than I can drink a beer and smoke a butt (outside) and our waiter comes up.

First sign that I live in Northern California:

Our waiter, Don, asks us "Would you like Tap or bottled water?"
Excuse me? tap or bottled?

J alomst said bottled but then realised it would add $12 to our bill. She did manage to get her answer out before I could say "Could you please just slap some ice in a glass and run it under the goddamn faucet?"

Don brings out tap water (i think i saw the other staffers sneering at him for even having to stoop to carry it) and then he tells us about the specials for the day. One of them is a soup. A soup that is chicken based but "you'll notice a slight touch of ham hock.

Second sign that I live in Northern California:

The game "Is our waiter gay?" is tossed aside for "Let's see just how gay our waiter is!".
Don, however, is not exceedingly gay as he manages to pull off saying the words slight touch of ham hock without a lisp.

none of us order the ham hock soup, but it gave us a good laugh.

Drinks are brought, food is eaten, J and paul are getting drunk, and much fun is had. I spent most of the time listening to this older guy try to impress whatever poor woman was with him by talking about...

Third sign that I live in Northern California:


Sir if you're reading this: Kiss My Ass.
The ONLY reason you're not on the list is because i dont have your name and don't wanna put

"Fat old guy with bad haircut at Mustards in Napa"
on there.
We get to our first winery and suddenly all the booze we drank at Mustards needs to get out.


We go to the bathroom and in a flash of impishness, I drag J in there with me - those of you that read the page know where i'm going and I thought "Hey, we could turn it into our very own nasty litle tradition"

First sign that the honeymoon is basically over:

Instead of actually playing around, we decide it's more prudent to pee and get back to drinking.
of course, we rush back to Greg & and Paul to tell them this - mainly to horrify Paul and hopefully make Greg think i'm cool.

More wine is drank, J gets drunk, much fun is had. We go home.

Thats about it.

Not that exciting, thouhg i am Horrifyingly Aware that:
A) This is turning into another fucking journal site
B) I used the word "impush"


Second sign that the honeymoon is basically over:

The love of my life just walked into the room, my heart fulttered, and i saw her:
in a mud mask
yeap. I'm a lucky guy.

Real World Time!

Slap Out

19 Oct 99

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