at Slide last night:
You are lucky I am not a violent person. Because after you hit my elbow, causing me to spill my Chardonnay in my face and all the way down the inside of my cowlneck sweater (yes, my bra was soaked), I wanted to destroy you. And all you said was, "Oh, sorry."
I would've loved to smack you and dig my nails into your eyeballs and dump an entire magnum of red wine (yes, red!) on you. But instead, this is what I wish for you:
May you be walking down the street, preferably in suede shoes or a suede jacket, and may some completely drunk person who just ate too much Mexican food throw up all over you. And may chunks get in your hair.
May the guy you have been eyeing all night at the party walk in on you in the bathroom and find you changing your tampon. And may he run away screaming.
May you break the heels on all your favorite shoes.
May you get dumped in public.
May you eat a spinach salad.
And you will not be alone in the hell I have in mind for you. There were so many drunken biznatches at last night's winetasting. You will have friends. You can all pose for the event photographer together in ridiculously short skirts. And then brazenly ask my friend Jenny's fiancé if you can sit in his lap -- while Jenny is right there next to him!
So awful. The one thing I really hate about wine is that it's a magnet for yuppie scum or wannabe yuppie scum. Good lord.
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