When I say 'wine fight' you might be thinking that I'm putting a spin on something, that it's goint to be a more boring event that I'm slyly twisting so I can call it a wine fight. Let's be clear: when I say 'we had a wine fight', I mean that Vegatrain, Meattrain and myself once found ourselves in the kitchen at our old house, covered in white wine and flinging more of the stuff around everywhere.
I've thought before that the house the three of us share (with Richard Melons, who keeps himself separate from such shenanigans) isn't really a grown-up's house. The central room is an entertainment centre that consists of three TVs, multiple gaming consoles, a few couches and a big ol' stack of beanbags*. As I have mentioned, the centrepiece is often a top hat that we keep filled with chupa-chups.
But then I realised, this is a grown-up's house. It's just for the type of grown-up every kid wants to be when they're older, rather than the type they actually turn into when they cave to pressure and start being sensible. And that's kind of a good analogy for the way we act most of the time.
Let me explain the wine fight.
To understand how it started, you have to have a basic grip on how much I love bargains. For those of you who don't know, I really like bargains. I like them more than a friend. If I see a really good bargain, I have to cash in on it. If it's something I can't possibly use, I will try and think of someone I can tell about it. I once called Vegatrain's sister-in-law from the shops because there was an amazing special on tuna and she was the only person I knew who eats it. When a bargain is that good, I must at the very least witness someone taking advantage of it. I call it 'Vicarious Bargain Joy'.
I was out searching for some specials when I found a really, really cheap cask of white wine. It even looked like reasonably decent wine, I guess, all things considered. I bought it, thinking I would drink it for sure. Naturally I had one glass and put it away when I realised just how awful it was. It sat on our kitchen table for some time.
Until one fateful day. Meattrain, bored and restless, sat down at the table and poured himself a full stein of the stuff. He proceeded to look at it like a drunk cowboy looks at a racial stereotype and skulled the whole thing in one move. It was pretty impressive.
I'm not sure who made the next move. It was either me or Vegatrain, but it was a long time ago and I don't quite remember. Whoever it was poured a proper glass of wine, looked at it nervously (neither of us can best our housemate in the being-a-man stakes) and promptly threw it all over Meattrain, who was still sitting at the kitchen table. From there, all bets were off. Several litres of wine were thrown, ending up all over the three of us and any surfaces or inanimate kitchen equipment that happened to be in the crossfire.
And no, it didn't feel that great to be covered head to toe in goon. But I have to say, it wasn't nearly as bad as the time the boys stuck a 1.25L Pepsi bottle upside-down in the back of my pants and then unscrewed the lid. Rotten boys.
-Smackie Onassis
*For awhile the beanbags were working as my chair in the study. When we set up the study, we had four desks but only three appropriate chairs so my section of the study became a pile of beanbags in the corner with my lapdesk/laptop combination. However, after a month or so I found a chair under a pile of laundry in my room (seriously) and now I can sit at a desk like a proper person.
P.S. I haven't updated in ages because I've been heaps sick and stuff. But I am feeling better now so it's all good :)
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