Wine Review

I stole this wine.

Actually, WE stole this wine and I drank it. I would feel bad about this normally, but because the members of the lab I co-stole it with [from a prospective candidate event, don't worry] know that I am good for anything having to do with wine, I think this is okay.

So as I dragged this wine out of my car this evening, after it had been aging and stuff in the back seat, I felt the warmness of the bottle and thought... Well, whatever, it's just red wine, right?

And that is when I started to feel like a hipster. With my hand wrapped around that warm bottle. Typical.

Whatevs. Here's the bottle.
It is called "Adegaborba.pt." And I'll admit I have named some PowerPoint presentations in a far lamer fashion. But because this wine is like a lobotomized hipster, I will say it again-- whatevs.

This wine nullified my ability to taste. Was it because the wine itself was the antithesis of everything, or was my palate just failing? I sighed, had another sip, and decided it was the prior. This whine, excuse me, wine had its' own boring agenda. So I put on my boots sans socks and headed to the fire escape to better understand this beverage.

And I thought, I really did, that the best way to get along with this wine was to be as obnoxious as it was-- I was going to evade everything, well, with the exception of rust. I wanted some kind of tang, because this wine-- and I am not joking-- literally has zero start or finishing tastes. Whatevs.
No seriously, whatevs.
And then my other senses kicked in, perhaps heightened due to the residual depletion of my sense of taste, and I realized I was cold. It is March. I should be in bed. So I put on some Suburban Kids with Biblical Names and felt a lot better than anyone else. In the World.