Jug Wine, Oh Jug Wine!

Oh Jug Wine... You will always hold a special place in my heart.

My first encounter with a Jug Wine, was, of course, the Carlo Rossi Rose wine. A sweet young thing, 'tis. Barely even alcoholic... Well, she has a cousin, my friends! A robust, Italian cousin named Sovini Rosso Costiera. This red Vino da Tavola is "obtained from several grapes with a pleasant dry and sapid flavour", and, like any true lady, is loathe to reveal her age. Ah yes, five liters of a thin red liquid that tastes like dirty water and cuts a fine figure in her thick glass, with the tiny, useless handle hanging uselessly as costume jewelry around the neck of this full figured woman.

And to think I hiked 20 minutes up hill to pick her up...
But I'm smarter than I look. Yes, yes - you see, my intentions were not entirely honorable. No, indeed. Because what I intend to do, is pass her around the table, like the whore she is, loosening tongues, and making me plenty of new friends, until she's all used up and ready to be filled up with something decent at the Count's winery for 3 euros!


Although, until that time comes, perhaps I ought to lay off the booze, because it would seem that I'm getting sick. Yes, I woke up this morning from unsettling dreams about baseball stadiums, old friends, and a boy named Damien whose namesake, I suspect, is Damien Rice (sorry Bryan), feeling worse then when I fell asleep. And I didn't go running. - Because Kevin says I'm too intense. So fine.

(alight, those weren't his exact words. what he sad was more like "you're very INTENSE - but I won't say anything more about that...")

I am too intense, aren't I?
I get that all the time.

fine.
okay.
i'll stop.