Birthday Bubbly

  
You don’t need money

I mean, you do need to be a baller

as in you need to enter pie contests

then at that there contest you befriend the dude serving pie to the general Los Angeles NPR-listening public next to you. it turns out he is a graphic designer who is a judge for the labels portion of the San Francisco International Wine Competition and gets to bring home 8 boxes of wine entered in the contest.

he ends up being the co-host of many pie parties with you and your friend Alice

he brings home a 450 dollar bottle of fine champagne from being a judge at the wine competition and deems your birthday worthy of opening said bottle

so no one paid for that Armand de Brignac Ace of Spades, a fine brut rosé bubbly

but it got sipped straight down your greedy throat

THAT is how you ball it up in Lalaland.

It was good.

But you guys the bottle.

I mean.

Does it matter? I mean yes, it IS very good. it WAS real champagne.

Its bubbles were more velvety and refined and effervescent and transcendent and je ne said quoi than the average pedestrian sparkly vino. The toasty taste was lilting and pleasant. The fruit is there but not too much. Maybe cherry and roasted apple if I strain my ears. Which is saying something, considering I use my tongue to taste, generally. But this is some refined shit.

For a rosé champagne that is supposedly a fave of Jay-Z’s it is oh so restrained in taste. Surprising. Until you remember the bottle. YOU GUYS the bottle. O. M. G.

Would I pay 450 dollars for it? No. Would I deem myself worthy of opening this refined, velvety, the-universe-in-my-mouth wine?

Fuck.

Yes.