Desperate Housewife

The twins went to bed early tonight. Not by choice, but by necessity. You see, they were very fussy and the wife was at the end of her tether. Her sanity was eroding like a beach in a hurricane, and the only evacuation route was an early story time followed by the brushing of baby teeth and the safety and comfort of a bottle of wine.

But she was out of wine. Or was she? She remembered that she had bought a cheap bottle of red wine for cooking purposes which somehow still remained unopened. How cheap? How does two dollars and ninety-seven cents sound? Yes, amazingly enough, for less than a dollar a glass, Bay Bridge Vineyards produces a Californian Cabernet Sauvignon which they would have you believe is fit for human consumption. It was a chance she would have to take. After all, she was desperate.

She was three glasses deep when I came home and trying to convince me that this swill wasn't as bad as one might expect. So, reluctantly, I took her glass and decided to see for myself. The following is the first and only wine review I shall ever attempt...

The first thing that struck me about Bay Bridge's Cabernet Sauvignon is that there was no vintage printed on the label. I can't be sure, but I think this wine was bottled at least three to four weeks ago, and has aged like a two pack a day coal miner with tuberculosis ever since. It's color is anemic yet has an almost blood blister quality to it which is hard to describe in words. It has a nose like Jimmy Durante and legs like 40 weight Valvoline after three thousand miles at redline RPM. And the taste? Hints of Dogwood and Crabapple with a pronounced BermaShave note. Or is that Brylcreem? And it finishes like the Mojave desert only slightly more dry. It's a wonder how they can put all of this in a bottle at so little cost. Pairs nicely with a bologna sandwich, if the sandwich doesn't take too much offense.

So, before I go to bed tonight, I'll be a dear and lay out four aspirin, three Tums, and a gallon of water on her bedside table. And when I get up in the morning, maybe I'll drive down to the liquor store and buy her something nice to drink before the next toddler meltdown. God forbid she should have to drink the Listerine, although, quite frankly, it might be an improvement.