Smell the cork
We had a nice dinner with the parents here in the state of NC Friday night. The restaurant was one of those could be upper scale chain restaurants, but I believe this is the only location.
My story is about the bottle of wine we ordered.

Let me say that I don't want to come off as a snot nosed brat here.

It was a Shiraz from Penfolds. The waitress took our order kind of clumsily (she meant well, but..) and then sent out someone to do that awkward wine opening dance that everyone so despises and cringes at.
Or at least I do.

The guy was real goofy and cheerful and showed me the bottle with great fanfare.
"Um, I'm not going to send this back, but the menu said it was a 2002 Shiraz/Merot combination - where as this is a 2004 Shiraz/Cabarenet combo. You need to correct the menu I suppose."

He says he'll check into that.
He then pops the cork. This is where the hilarity ensued. The next thing I know he is holding the corkscrew *with* the cork on it and it's heading towards my face.
Aiyee! Someone is trying to murder me!*

I falter and he says, "You must smell the cork" - and I pull back and then notice that it's actually not a 'cork' cork, but one of the synthetic corks.
"It's actually not a real cork, so..", I say.

"Yes, but its part of the experience!" he cheerfully replies.

I take the corkscrew from the guy and twist the cork off and place it on the table.

Afterwards, Mrs. Robot said sarcastically, "Why don't you go blog that" - so as not to disappoint her, there it is.

For my meal, my recovering vegetarian ass ordered a steak - medium rare. I think our waitress wrote down "extremely rare" which is how it came.
The manager stopped by our table and noticed the color (after I had eaten a good bit of it - the edges were tasty) and was a little concerned.
I told it was on the far-side of medium rare. She offered to re-do it, but I was already full of raw meat so I just thanked her for the offer.

Damn Blogs
It is kind of frustrating when you have an online thing like we all do. I don't have a lot of people reading this - but enough people who are related to me or work with me do.
So I can't ever mention the time I held a little bag of cocaine in my hand or the group sex thing.
Stupid blogs-o-sphere.

* I like to imagine that I am so important to someone that I could be the target of an assasination attempt.
With a corkscrew.

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