Thursday, February 26, 2004

bad decisions

The rehydration process is going slower than expected, thanks to drastic markdowns on some rapidly disintegrating Sardon de Duero. Still, I feel lucky compared to our anonymous coreligionist:
Our time-tested method of killing our previous hangover through a process of reimbibification was actually rather successful last evening, up until about 10:30, when we crossed over the line that separates drinking to feel better and drinking to, you know, get drunk.
The worst decision of the day, however, goes to Harold Bloom:
Ms. Wolf's recollection of the night in 1983 when she and Mr. Bloom allegedly got drunk on Amontillado and he made an invasive pass at her was the first part of the story.
Amontillado ? I'm not passing judgment one way or another, because all you english majors look the same to me, but what the fuck are they reading in those Yale lit. classes? [NYO via the hag; also, slate]


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