"Comedy is an escape, not from truth but from despair; a narrow escape into faith."--Christopher Fry
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Lo Hai Qu Joins Geekhole.Com
My somewhat deranged intern Lo Hai Qu showed up more hungover than usual the other day, and when I asked her what she’d been up to, she said she had been conducting a social experiment with her girlfriends, and asked if she could publish some of the results on HoseMaster of Wine™. I have no idea what she meant, but I told her she could write about it here. I’m going to regret this, but here she is, the inimitable Lo Hai Qu:
So me and my friends joined this wine expert dating site, Geekholes.com, cuz we’re all like sick of the dickwads who hit on us at wine bars. Like this one guy comes up to us and says, “Hey, sexy, if you got a split, I’ve got just the magnum that will fit.” I thought Loqueesha was gonna hurl her Prosecco at him. Not the glass, she was just going to hurl. She crazy. But I just gave the wad my Lo-cut dressing down look and told his sorry ass, “If I wanted to screw a loser, I’d buy a bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.” Another time me and Shizzangela was gettin’ our drink on, Shizzy all upset because Dr. Conti dumped her for some white chick with an M.W. (Massive Wormhole), and this dildo walks up, can’t he see we’re drowning our sorrows in Moscato, and says to her, “You’re so beautiful, I’ll bet your tears taste salty like great Manzanilla.” Which Shizzy thought “Manzanilla” was that big dinosaur that ate Tokyo so she goes, “How’d you like me to teach you how to detect sulfur by shoving your head up your ass?” So we decided we’d sign up for Geekholes.com and see if we could find us some maybe older guys who’d buy us really good Champagne, like Veulva Clicquot or one of those expensive new Growler Champagnes, though why the fuck you’d put Champagne in a bucket I don’t know. Anyways, I like beer in a bucket cuz I prefer a pail ale, but Champagne? I want to try that!
Geekholes.com is kinda like one of those wine chat rooms, you know, those wine chat rooms where there’s hardly any women so the boys can break out their wine hardons and wave them around like they’re playing Dungeons and Dragons with their meat thiefs. I was looking at one of those stupid chat rooms, like it was called winebazookas or something, and it was such a waste of time. Like there’s a million posts, but only three different topics. “Hey, the new BlowJob releases are out! Who gets to taste them first?” And, “Last night I drank a wine that got a bunch of points and you didn’t, Tiny Balls.” And, of course, “Anyone here ever had sex with a woman that you didn’t fold up and put back in the bag after?” Fuck, are those guys for real? I guess you get old and if you know a lot about wine being on those chat rooms, it’s basically just like strokin’ it to online porn, only when you finally let the gunk fly, you’re saying your own name outloud.
So I sign up for Geekholes.com just for laughs. Lo doesn’t have any problems getting dates. I get hit on more than one of that asshole rapper Chris Brown’s girls. And like I got so many Friends with Benefits I could start my own Blue Cross—I issue ‘em cards and sign ‘em all up for Lobamacare. Lobamacare is just like Obamacare--we’re all gonna get fucked. But I thought it would be hilarious to date some wine experts, like, just sit there on a date and see the looks on their faces when they’re sitting across from an actual woman. Well, me and my girls, we thought it was a good idea at the time. But it sucked like wine-by-the-glass at a Chinese restaurant. Dating wine experts is like reading those fancyass wine descriptions that those shithead wine writers crank out—their words always make them sound good, but you put ‘em in your mouth and there’s just nothin’ there.
About ten seconds after I put my profile on Geekholes I had like fifty date requests. Loqueesha had about a thousand, but that’s because under “Likes” she put “AC/DC” thinkin’ that was what they call those French appellation laws. I told her that’s “AOC” but she says that’s stupid, “AOC” is the beginning words to the “Star Spangled Banner.” She always trying to sound smart about wine, but she don’t know Riesling from Ryan Gosling. Anyhow, I was trolling through my date requests and see this kinda cute sommelier who’s asking to take me out for coffee. Like I’m gonna get all Tête du Cuvée’d up for a cheapass date at Starbuck’s—I’ve got better Têtes than that. And he’s not that cute, he’s just sommelier cute, which is like being Lite beer. It’s not really beer, but there’s nothing else to call it. So I tell him if he wants a date with Lo, go big or join the Go Fuck Yourself Club™. Man, is that Club getting full. I’m going to have to start a waiting list for new members, especially with the new Poodle Awards coming soon.
I never dated a somm before. Turns out “somm” is short for Sominex. This dude was talking about wine nonstop and I was about to pass out into my bean burrito. Yeah, that’s right, he takes me to a Mexican restaurant. Asshole. He asks me before the date if I like salsa, right, and I think he means dancing, so I get all excited. I should have known--somms can’t dance. All they can do is curate. He tells me he spends a lot of time curating his wine list, like he’s running a fuckin’ museum. Yeah, MOMA. Museum of Modern Assholes. So this somm is so dull he makes those Sister Karen MacNeil videos seem hilarious. Which they are if you’re wasted from huffin’ Private Preserve, which is a great high, and you’re still fresh in the morning, but otherwise those might be the lamest wine shit on the Internet since that Suckling dude doing his best Phillip Seymour Hoffman self-destruct act rating wines. Every Go Fuck Yourself Club™ needs a Suckling member. If you get my drift.
The HoseMaster told me I shouldn’t date somms, and he would know. Well, his poor wife would know. It’s an obsession being a somm, like the most important thing in the world is wine, like how many "unicorns" you drank last week. Yeah, like little girls, somms chase unicorns. It also explains why most of them are virgins. Not that they care. Wine they can put in little compartments, like that one’s “natural,” or that one is made from Nebbiolo, or that one is “Grand Cru.” You do that with people, and, well, your life is gonna get tough. So they don’t bother with people. They hang around with other Geekholes, bragging about their wine knowledge, and never really wonderin’ if that’s the way to spend your life, tasting wine instead of people. I kinda feel sorry for them. No, not really, that’s not how Lo rolls. Some people think knowing a lot about wine is something to be proud of. Well, that and Boner In a Can® will get you laid.
After 19 years as a Sommelier in Los Angeles, twice named Sommelier of the Year by the Southern California Restaurant Writers' Association, I moved to Sonoma County to explore the other aspects of the wine business. I've spent, OK wasted, 35 years learning about and teaching about and swallowing wine. I am also a judge at the Sonoma Harvest Fair, San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition and the San Francisco International Wine Competition--so I can spit like a rabid llama. I know more about wine than David Sedaris and I'm funnier than James Laube. Stay tuned for an informed but jaded view of everything wine and everything else.
I'm living proof that alcohol kills brain cells.
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