By Rachel Fogletto Don’t you hate it when you’re making a wine run and you’re faced with the dreaded pop-quiz question from your well-meaning wine sales clerk, “Are you looking for anything in particular?” First of all, no one in the liquor store scanning the price-tags is looking for anything
Wine is justifiable on any night when the bottle costs less than $5, and the modern cheap wine renaissance offers many outstanding varietals. “Varietals” is the word you use when you’re trying to make it sound like you care more about artisan wine snobbery than you care about getting drunk.
Step into a world of adventure with the San Francisco Beer Passport. There’s no better way to explore San Francisco than to literally drink it in. This passport is amazing! Each one contains 37 coupons to buy one beer, get a second beer FREE at 37 of the finest locally owned bars,
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
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 sentiment known as “love/hate” is one of the most ubiquitous yet enigmatic phenomenons in the human experience. I am certainly no stranger to its insidious, backhanded ways. Raw onions, ex-lovers, the mélange of scents permeating the city on a hot day, Peter Gabriel… you get the idea. For broke-ass
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
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