Merlot: This is a smooth wine. Very few chunks. Lovely to give to your mom. What’s that T doing there, though, huh?
Cabernet: This is a rowdy wine. This wine is the equivalent of someone who has gotten a little bit fired for their actions at a company holiday party before. Like that wasn’t explicitly said, but you can’t ride the janitor’s cart in the buff trying to joust your boss with the broom. You just can’t.
Moscato: Mmmm Mama’s Special Juice ™. Seriously this tastes like juice. Exactly the kind of wine you “aren’t supposed to” give a toddler but which puts them right to sleep. Yummy. 5/5 stars.
Boxed Wine: You’re probably thinking “oh that’s not a type of wine.” Yes it fucking is. Everyone thinks they’re better than boxed wine. And they are not. When the clock strikes Wine O’clock and you don’t have a bottle, guess what? Boxed wine is about to be your friend. Or at the very least your acquaintance. Who even decided glass was a good idea around wine? From the people who thought up: “Why don’t we put pills inside fire???” and “What if cocaine came with a knife?”
Burgundy: This was named after Ron Burgundy. Just a little history for you. It’s also a color now. I think it was probably a color first.
Malbec: Good if you’re a “high- functioning alcoholic” like my dad.
Riesling: The only wine that’s trying to be German. How fucking misguided is that? Stay in your lane, wine. Be French. Be Italian. Fuck, be from Argentina. But not Germany. Germany is good at precision and beer and well. We all know the other thing. Wine is an imprecise thing. Perfect for cultures with romance languages and the gall to laud philandering politicians.
Sauvignon Blanc: It’s called that because the next morning your memory is going to be blank. (At least this was the result when we mixed it with tequila that one night back in ’02). Word to the wise: don’t pronounce any of the letters in the first word. They are all silent. Just say blanc.
Chardonnay: Good pairing with Poptarts and tears. Tastes velvety. Fuck it, skip buying the wine and just stick velvet in your mouth. Chew on velvet, you idiot. You don’t know the difference do ya?
Syrah: Just a misspelling of Sarah, or something more? Overtones of hot dog water. Like the water you used to cook hot dogs. That water. That’s basically what this wine tastes like.
Pinot Noir: lol penis noir. lol. More delicate than the male ego.
Zinfandel: Spicier than the affair you had last fall with the post-baby body bootcamp instructor you hired (even though you didn’t really have a baby). You lied. No one can fault you. He was a hunk. Even if he did shave his legs. This wine is nutty and trying too hard— also just like you. Janet get your absolute shit together.