Don’t make me blush

That night I had sat there with a glass of blush wine while contemplating whether I would just send it back and ask the waiter for a glass of Pinot Noir. How does this man continue to get it wrong? I was always getting a headache whenever I drank a glass or two of the blush wine, but then I finally realized that my date’s presence brought on the throbbing to my temples and not a bunch of innocent grapes. And then it happened – the waiter came over with a glass of glorious red wine and said that the gentleman at the bar had sent it over for me to enjoy. As I shoved the blush wine away, Javier Bardem asked if this seat was taken.

True Confession Time

I am rather embarrassed to admit this, but confession is good for the soul.

 I think last night I gave up my soul and saw a movie that was lewd, inane, gross, juvenile and with language that is not so easy on the ears.

But I laughed my butt off and in my defense, I did say over and over, "This is so stupid."

The movie is "The Candidate." It won't be getting any nomination for best movie, but it was 90 minutes of being in a loony bin with a one way ticket out.

 I am so ashamed of myself.

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