Big Time Wineo

Yeah, I'm talking about me. I scored 3 bottles of delicious-for-a-grocery-store-red-wine on super sale last week, and I've only cracked one bottle open so far. I thought, more than anything, these would so I could feel really smooth if I every actually had company over (imagine that, company) and I would, in a very adult way, offer some to my charming guests. So, tonight, I went to the gym and decided it's time to hit all those weight machines and remind my arms they once where not fat. I felt really good after, and extremely weak. I didn't push too hard, but hard enough to render my arms useless for any other work the rest of the night. So, after David, the hardworking champ passed out at 8:30 tonight, and I bored myself with every book I've been reading and poo-pooing around online for an hour, I decided I wanted a glass of delicious red wine. I went to the kitchen and got out the bottle, nearly full still that David was kind enough to re-cork for me.

Apparently, David-Michael, you have superhuman jumbo strength. Apparantly, you shoved this cork in for good to make sure it was going to stay closed. I found myself sitting on the floor in utter frustration, bottle between my thighs, giving it my all to pull this cork back out of a practically full jug 'o wine, as Elwood enthusiastically is rubbing all around me in big excited, loud, purry circles. Remember, MY ARMS DON'T WORK. I'd have trouble with this even if they did, but I felt so weak and pathetic with worn out muscles straining, and the full knowledge of my own clumbsiness, and I am scared that when I do pop this bad boy out, red wine is going to fly everywhere. I've done worse, it's horrible. I started laughing at myself out loud in the kitchen, with the cat going bizzerk all over me, with my rubber arms and this stupid $%&*@ bottle with sleepy-time elixer inside just beyond my handicapped reach.

I got that jerk open. It was awesome. I felt like I won a marathon. I'm going to be alseep in 10 gorgeous minutes, tops.