I'm not talking about my whine.
Because ya'll, I can shove it and leave that for the birds.
Or can I?
I am talking about my wine.
Where does it go?
Stored in my vintage wine rack?
In the fridge for cooling before uncorking?
Nope.
It goes to my thighs.
My ass.
My waist.
Boy does it.
Even with all the running I've been doing.
The tubage of wine fat won't freaking go away.
The fine commentary on Yahoo! this morning just depressed me beyond belief.
I mean, we all know wine is loaded with sugar.
But, the French drink it and swear it's good for their health.
Doesn't red wine help with cardiovascular diseases?
Can I get an Amen for antioxidants?
Brother, please!
But to compare my beloved Blood of Christ to sugar donut holes.
Well, that just about put me over the top.
So now I'm whining.
And by the way, I haven't had a donut in effing YEARS.
Years people.
I gave that shit up like a whore gave up her virginity.
