Ugh, rich people. They’re always making us regular Joes feel so goddamn… poor. They drive around in their fancy-schmancy white stretch limos, eating caviar and endangered, baby mammals with their pinky sticking out, all while perpetually drowning in a sea of diamonds and mink stoles (paws still attached, of course).

So, it’s Valentine’s week (Yes, it’s an entire week now. Sorry.) and I don’t care if you’re fully ball-n-chained or single and swinging that thang all over the city, one thing V-day evokes in every last warm-blooded human being is the desire to get… some. You know what I’m talking about,

It’s good to be young, broke, and beautiful Dear Two Buck Chick, I’m going to Thanksgiving dinner at (insert friend/family member)’s house and I need to bring some wine. WTF should I bring? P.S. I’m broke. You came to the right column, my (completely fictitious) friend! So you ain’t got

The other day I was thinking about a wine question that my dear friend, Ilene, emailed me a few years ago. I tried to dig it up out of the Gmail abyss so I could share it in raw form, but all I came up with was a copy of this

Hey kids! I thought we might have a little heart to heart before you go out and paint the town red this weekend. It’ll only take a minute, I promise. I want to talk to you about … well, butt chugging. Specifically, butt chugging wine. Apparently, it’s popular with you young

When I was younger, my mom really loved fruit punch.  Everywhere we went — soccer games, my middle school orchestra concerts, Applebee’s — there my mom would be with her plastic to-go cups bought in bulk from Costco (née Price Club) filled with extremely pungent, blood-red juice. OR SO I