The Wine Blog Award Nominees were announced last week, and my scary intern, Lo Hai Qu, is a little peeved that she wasn't nominated. The HoseMaster of Wine™ was nominated twice, but Lo was stiffed. She marched into my office and demanded the blog for this week's post. Oh, man, here we go...
OK, so this blows like narwhal 'ho's. It's like, last year I won a Wine Blog Award for Best Blog Post, which I totally deserved, especially since the other posts in my category were stupider than an episode of “Two Broke Girls.” But then this year, they just announced the finalists for the Wine Dog Awards and, fuckin' get this, no Lo contendre! Can you believe that? I’m like the defending champion, and I don’t even get a mention? What sort of incompetent judges did they have this year? Or, more likely, incontinent judges. I tried to find out who the judges were, but there wasn’t any list of them anywhere. I mean, I don’t blame them for being ashamed, being a judge for the Wine Slog Awards is harder than judging at the Bumfuck County Fair—you need to be able to tell one pig from another, only with wine bloggers all you can see is the slop they’re wallowin’ around in. OK, yeah, I’m bitter.
Loqueesha told me I should just chill, that it doesn’t matter. So I like punched her in the neck, right on her tattoo of Natalie MacLean humping a Methuselah, which makes her crazy. Natalie, not Loqueesha. Of course it matters! The Wine Pawg Awards are the most important awards there are for people who self-publish their worthless thoughts about wine. What are the chances these losers are ever going to get any other kind of award? Like there’s an organization that gives awards to people with hardly any talent who have the guts to display that all the time, I mean, aside from wine competitions. Wine bloggers need these awards.
But, so, like, there’s the irony. It’s not really an award. You win, and you don’t get snot. Not even a pat on the ass, and, believe me, these lonely bloggers really, really want a pat on the ass. You look at their photos and you know they haven’t been touched by another human being in a long time. Jameson Fink? OK, maybe Jameson Fink cuz, look at him, for sure he’s a ventriloquist dummy. There’s no money involved either. You’d think there’d be some money involved when you win an award, like maybe some Bitcoins or a bunch of lottery tickets anyway. Nope. Nada. Zip. Zero. Palate Press. The Wine Stroke Awards have all the value of back issues of Mutineer Magazine—pretty much you just get your ass wiped. Or you’d think you’d get some kind of trophy, or a plaque, or maybe commemorative nipple rings, like the ones I got from eating ten Grand Slam breakfasts at Denny’s without using utensils. Shit, maybe Loqueesha’s right, which would be a first, though she did say David Schildknecht was a robot. Maybe the Wine Splooge Awards don’t matter. I mean, look at who’s nominated, right?
So when I saw that I wasn’t even fuckin’ nominated, I made the mistake of looking at the blogs that were. Oh, fuck, really, don’t do this. I’m warning you, just don’t do it. OK, like, pretend this is just like some cool slasher flick where you want to shout at the stupid girl on the screen, “Don’t go into the dark cabin in the woods in only your panties!” because you know the bad guy is going to dismember her with a Ginzu knife and a weed whacker. I’m telling you, don’t go and read the nominees for Best Overall Wine Blog! Nothing good can come of it. What that bad guy does to the girl in panties, they’ve done to wine writing—taken a weed whacker to it.
I asked the HoseMaster, who’s whacked a few weeds, and himself, a lot, if those were really the Best Wine Blogs. “Sure,” he tells me, “which is what’s sad.” Oh, fuck him, I went and read them my own Lo self. Wow, in my really cute hind sight that was stupid, like going to the doctor and begging him to give you sleep apnea.
See, what the deal is, since I started as the HoseMaster’s intern, I’ve started really liking wine. I used to drink it before, but I just did it cuz it was there and it made me feel like shit. Then I started tasting the good stuff, and I started liking it, and it still made me feel like shit. Which is cool. It’s like when I started having sex, too. I just did it cuz it made me feel worthless, not cuz I enjoyed it. Now I enjoy it, and I still feel worthless, but it’s a good kind of worthless, so that’s also cool. Maybe those Best Overall Wine Bloggers are the same way. I mean, you read those blogs (NO, I’m beggin’ you, DON’T, and not in just your panties!) and you can tell they’re just going through the motions, like a date that just lays there, and they know what they’re writing is kinda worthless, but that’s all they need, that feeling of just doing it, even though it’s mostly empty. I mean, they write just about the same crap every post, which is like eating the same goddam thing for breakfast every morning. It's amazing that you never get sick of it.
And they’re all such kiss-asses. They make little drawings, and they love every winery and winemaker they meet, and all the other bloggers who love them are sooooo talented, and wine is so mystical and amazing and made them all better people, but not better writers, and they have so many important things to say if only they could think of them... It’s like one of those suckass sororities that wouldn’t have me. One big house full of people whose only claim to actual fame or talent is they’re in a big house full of boring people exactly like them. They don’t define their little wine blogs, their little wine blogs define them.
OK, so, yeah, I’m kinda bitter. I was sure I was going to get a nomination. I’ve been bragging about it, and now Shizzangela is ridin’ my ass, makin’ fun of me, tellin’ me I’m no Goode, that I got Wakawaka leaking from my bare root chakra, that I’m goin’ Doon on endless Poodle dick, and I bite worse than Enobytes--endless shit like that. Damn Shizzy. She crazy. I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not votin’ for anybody in the Wine Blog Awards. Not even for the HoseMaster. (Best Wine Reviews? Yeah, and Donald Sterling might get an award from the NAACP.) In fact, I think I’m going to return my Wine Blog Award from last year, fuck ‘em. Only how do you return nothing?