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  1. #28126
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    Nov 2005
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    Down In A Hole, Up in the Sky
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    24,999
    Thanks!
    However, cleaning thousands of links of chain and greasy cogs got to be...







    Annoying
    StokePimpin' ain't easy

  2. #28127
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    Sep 2001
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    First, the internet ruined wine: all those tasty drams that could be had for a song 15 years ago are now 10-20 times as expensive. In 1990, a bottle of DRC La Tache was $100, now it's $4000.
    Second, the states realized that they were missing out on sales tax and started to randomly institute insane mechanisms for recovering internet sales tax. Now enforcement is rearing it's head after years of everyone ignoring the restriction.s
    Third, retailers, in particular wine retailers, have given up shipping to WA because the regulations are so onerous and complex with tax varying from county to county as well as within counties (e.g. King)

    Zeroth whirled proplemz, I know, I know. I'm just an ahso, so get off my pinot.
    Merde De Glace On the Freak When Ski
    >>>200 cm Black Bamboo Sidewalled DPS Lotus 120 : Best Skis Ever <<<

  3. #28128
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    Dec 2009
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    Joisey
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    I saw this coming 30 years ago and that's why I never nurtured a taste for wine. Boones Farm works just as well as the good guy. I be smart/

  4. #28129
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    Quote Originally Posted by JongDoe View Post
    I saw this coming 30 years ago and that's why I never nurtured a taste for wine. Boones Farm works just as well as the good guy. I be smart/
    Vulgar philistine, you are wrong and may you suffer the cringes of oversized foam shoes.

    But I too saw it coming. And stockpiled.
    Merde De Glace On the Freak When Ski
    >>>200 cm Black Bamboo Sidewalled DPS Lotus 120 : Best Skis Ever <<<

  5. #28130
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    Dec 2009
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    Shoulda known i couldn't outsmart the dentists.

  6. #28131
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    Feb 2005
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    11,502
    I bought a verry verry special 2 bottles of wine in Argentina that I planed to save for me and my wife to be on my wedding.

    I had first tried it 10 years earlier, and yes, I am a wine guy. It was the best bottle of wine I had ever quaffed. So the next time I went to Argentina, I bought two, waiting for that day when I could crack them with said future bride.

    9 years and a lot of pain later, no bride, lots of mental scars, and I fear that those nuptual bottles are passed their prime.

    That pisses me off. In more ways then one. That was 2 decades of discovery, planning, living.

    And here I am holding my dick with 2 insane bottles of wine that are probably done. And I don't have the heart to pop them. No one would even appreciate them. It's like the fucking Christopher Walken's watch. They feel like an anchor. 2 bottles of 19 year old wine, that was only made once with a collaboration, waiting for a collaboration between male and female, stored for half of my life, now, just wasted.

  7. #28132
    Join Date
    Sep 2001
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    The Cone of Uncertainty
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    46,864
    Time to find the fuck out right now I say.

  8. #28133
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    Feb 2005
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    11,502
    But they hold a memory of the perfect bottle. It's like I waited too long, and the memory of what it could have been is way better than what the wine could ever be.

  9. #28134
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    What good is the imagination if it doesn't attempt to come to fruition? Challenge yourself.
    Merde De Glace On the Freak When Ski
    >>>200 cm Black Bamboo Sidewalled DPS Lotus 120 : Best Skis Ever <<<

  10. #28135
    Join Date
    Dec 2005
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    Central OR
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    ^^^ Stop dwelling in the past, and open a bottle You can’t go back, so go forward with confidence.

  11. #28136
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    Feb 2005
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    Menu suggestions?

  12. #28137
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    Yeah, c'mon, beer here now and all that.
    Merde De Glace On the Freak When Ski
    >>>200 cm Black Bamboo Sidewalled DPS Lotus 120 : Best Skis Ever <<<

  13. #28138
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    Feb 2005
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    So elk backstrap?

  14. #28139
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    Quote Originally Posted by MakersTeleMark View Post
    Menu suggestions?
    Charcuterie: braesolae, speck, elk jerky. Bread. Apples.
    Merde De Glace On the Freak When Ski
    >>>200 cm Black Bamboo Sidewalled DPS Lotus 120 : Best Skis Ever <<<

  15. #28140
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    Dec 2005
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    Central OR
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    I’m assuming Malbec? Definitely rare longhorn beef.

  16. #28141
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    Malbec ages forever.
    Merde De Glace On the Freak When Ski
    >>>200 cm Black Bamboo Sidewalled DPS Lotus 120 : Best Skis Ever <<<

  17. #28142
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    Feb 2005
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    11,502
    Malbec/Cab F. Those fucking 2 bottles:



    https://www.cellartracker.com/wine.asp?iWine=102606

  18. #28143
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    Sep 2005
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    C, you have TWO bottles. Meaning even if you "waste" one you still have another. Open. Drink.
    "fuck off you asshat gaper shit for brains fucktard wanker." - Jesus Christ
    "She was tossing her bean salad with the vigor of a Drunken Pop princess so I walked out of the corner and said.... "need a hand?"" - Odin

  19. #28144
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    Sep 2006
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    3,780
    Well and then there’s the whole part where you quit drinking, colluding the affair.

  20. #28145
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    Feb 2005
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    In 2000, I took a 2 hour bus ride from Mendoza central to visit Trapiche. I had met a worker from there who freelanced as a rugby official. I met him at the airport when I landed with one set of clothes and a small backpack that now would be the size of a camelback. He put me in touch with their international sales rep, Maria.

    This was before Argentina or I had cell phones, so i used the old rotary from the Mendoza hostel and got in touch with her which took 3 days of notes passed between the clerk and me and Maria. I arranged a time to meet her because they stopped doing tours of the vineyard and production facilities a couple years ago.

    I got up early, and the bus broke down. It took 3 hours and I was 2 hours late. But, well, the A factor.

    I walked 2 miles down a dirt road during harvest season. I only passed horses and donkeys, but got to the gate. I spoke my Spanish to the guard, we shared a camel cigarette, and Maria got escorted to pick me up.

    What happened after that was life changing. Those next 3 hours. 3 solo hours with glorious Maria, at Trapiche, the super private tour changed everything I thought I knew about wine. The facilities and history was massive. Standing in a 10k sq.ft. wooden wine storage structure from the 1800's and more. The grounds, the fields, everything was like ... booom, mind blow ing/

    At the very end, we went to the HQ, which was this open air office/barn, about 4000 sq/ft. She asked if I desired to taste anything, and I said please, yes, the one, the Iscay. She said, no, no we cannot do that. I begged. She said she would leave for awhile and try to ask.

    She came back in 20 minutes and everyone in the building got up and walked towards me. We all entered a stainless steel tasting room with perfect air and vacuum sealed, it was a lab for chirisssake.

    The entire building was in there with me and her. She produced the bottle of Iscay and lined up big nosey glasses for everyone. This took almost an hour. Very formal. She uncorked it poured me a taste, then filled everyone's glass. We spun, smelled, and tasted, then ... everyone, everyone, including Maria, just melted with a ahhhhhhooo. We all smiled at each other. It was orgasmic. They had never had it.

    After collecting glasses, Maria asked if I would sign the big binded leather guest book. Of course! What a gift. Please let me give you a hug.

    The last name before mine to have visited was Robert Mondavi, CA, USA. And I was the last tour guest at Trapiche.

    Try their wines. They are good. Trust me, like I trusted them.

  21. #28146
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    That was really good stuff. I could feel the awe.
    StokePimpin' ain't easy

  22. #28147
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    awesome story.

    And yes, Trapiche makes good wine. I took a wine tasting class in Durango in the mid-90s, and the teacher was all about turning us onto value wines (because who in Durango at the time could afford more). Trapiche was one of the wineries she specifically mentioned.
    "fuck off you asshat gaper shit for brains fucktard wanker." - Jesus Christ
    "She was tossing her bean salad with the vigor of a Drunken Pop princess so I walked out of the corner and said.... "need a hand?"" - Odin

  23. #28148
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    Feb 2005
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    11,502
    It's funny you posted, because believe it or not, you are part of that story. I'll spell it out on the prequel.

  24. #28149
    Join Date
    Feb 2005
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    11,502
    Holy shit, finals day. If you aren't familiar, law school is not a participatory experience. Your entire grade for any class comes down to one final. One the at the end of the class. Ace it and you won't be that crying little daddy child who paid tuition to give you a shot at the top 10%. Don't show up and you're a nerd who jerks off to case books, thumbs up. One test.

    Now take 4 of those. That is finals week; and the social folks have "study groups" and crap where they gather on couches and debate holdings and how many colored highlighters could glean truth from fiction on 200 years of random case law and doctrines that produce no binary line between right, wrong, and economics. Yet alone generational politics.

    So, me, Danno, Stupendous Man, and the Weissassin a/k/a Weisslitz, get out of our last final and everyone is headed somewhere on the end of our brain wracking formality that is a pathetic ritual to train future lawyers.

    Given that of course we are very balanced individuals, we decide to convene in our usual spot to play a gentleman's' game of pool, which of course requires that the winner always commandeers the juke box for the next round. Me: c'mon now, sinatra, Weiss: Cash, Danno: talking heads.

    Games go as quick as the beers. We all suck, but equally, it's closing time, gotta get out.

    Oh no, not me, I'm not done, just got that fresh passport, took that photo at the shop on Pearl St. mailed it in and have a ticket to Ar gen tina!

    Also. I'm hungry.

    So it's almost 3. I made it halfway up the hill and got a double feelawful with humus for the next 4 blocks. Doing my best eating pace, entering the frat zone of the hill, and there is this chick sitting on the curb crying, pretty torn up, and obviously not having the wonderful experience of padding her belly with transplanted culinary delights of absorption.

    Are you OK? Hello? Are you alright? Do you know where home is?

    Pout pout cry cry, she's 19 ferchirssakes. NOOOO, my friends left me. Help.

    I will save you brethren and sisters from the next 3 hours. Walking every block from Broadway to 9th street in circles. What? 10 laps? Her 140 pounds across my neck and back, weaving pulling me from one side of the streets to another the entire time. Me screaming, "is this it? is this your place?". It was so much more painful because I walked by my comfy little basement illegal apartment as many times and I just wanted to crash.

    Finally, I got a stern Dad voice and said, "Fuck this shit, I'm over you, sit the fuck down and give me your purse!!!".

    She was so tired, wasted, and who the fuck knows, she collapsed backwards on the grass. I grabbed her purse, opened her wallet and pulled out her ID. FKNA. I looked at her address and we had walked by that every single lap. Bitch.

    Picked her up, and said, I need you stand the fuck up and walk. Straight as you can. I'm getting you home. OOOOOh KKKay. It was 1 block away. I marched her up the giant front stairs and banged on the door like the pissed of guy I was. Finally a girl in PJ's came down and answered. This is your problem now, I said. I'm just doing the right thing.

    My legs and brain are shot at this point, from the finals, the drinking, the hiking, the food coma, everything.

    Stumbled down the stairs to my bed, to the 100' sq feet of sanity and passed the fuck out glad to survive my first year.

    But, oh shit, I have to go to Argentina. But I never thought of that. Or packing, or getting to DIA, or any possible helpful logistic besides getting that drunk girl out of the rape zone.

    I was fucked. But I didn't get fucked. I fucked myself. Not good, but I didn't realize that until I got up to piss. Which was at 6, which was exactly 1 hour before my flight to Ar gen tina took off at DIA, which is about a morning's hour away from downtown Boulder, with a recommended 2 hour please arrive by, coupled by being international.

    I fucking shit. Literally. I sat on the shitter, and shit. I saved as much as I could that year to buy that ticket and saw it coming out of my ass. And I shit, which was good.

    I called the local cab company and said I need a ride to DIA. The bus was not an option at that point. That's a big bite in my travel budget for the trip right there, but I figured if I couldn't get there, then who cares. I'm fucked.

    They said they didn't have any cabs, but they could send "a driver". I said dooo it, fast.

    I wiped my ass, threw a fleece and a camera in a daypack, grabbed my wallet and newly minted passport and went outside.

    Holy shit, there is limo pulling up. A fucking stretch limo. He rolls down the window, a huge cloud of weed smoke wafts out and there is this blonde dreaded guy asking if I was going to DIA. Fuck yeah I am.

    I said, what is your name? Corey. I said, Corey, I need something from you, and it's not weed. I need you to do something very special. What is it he says? I need you to get me to DIA. Yeah, that's what they told me. Corey, listen, I need you to get me to DIA in 30 minutes.

    Whoaa. Corey. I have a hundred dollar bill here if you can get me, us, this limo, to DIA, in 30 minutes. Can you do that Corey?

    Fuck yeah I can. Hold on.

    And so, that began the most dangerous, hung over, close to death, contact high, ride from Boulder to DIA that could exist in history. Ending with screeching tires at the departure gate, me throwing the hundo, running down the stairs, cutting the full maze, jumping right in front of security with everyone screaming, and the gates closing on my flight to Ar gen tina.

  25. #28150
    Join Date
    Feb 2004
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    driving past the Stop and Shop
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    2,896
    A great tale! Get your old buds from law school (Danno, etc.). And tell stories while quaffing those two bottles of Argentinian grape juice. If they’ve gone south it’ll just add to the saga.
    Damn, we're in a tight spot!

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