Sondra and fucking xxxjoel showed up here last weekend. They were supposed to be here at noon for some wine tasting. I get a call from Sondra at 11:40, saying Joel's drunk out of his mind, up all night crashing about, and he's in the shower trying to figure out which one is the hot water faucet. I hear a blood-curdling scream in the background. Sondra says they'll be here in a while. I do a quick check to make sure the ice machine's full, the liquor bin is fully stocked and that the beer's cold and on tap. A two hour quality control session confirms the beer is cold.

2pm. Sondra's car pulls into the driveway. Joel falls out of the car before it comes to a full stop. I realize why he wears a leather jacket. Joel tumbles the last 5 or 6 feet, and lands on his feet, clutching what appears to be a quart-sized cup containing some type of cola beverage. Noting the glazed look in his eyes, I realize the cup is merely a clever camouflage device for what is more likely a 50/50 mixture of cola and Brown Liquor. Fully appropriate. Big hug with Sondra, who is wearing the shortest pair of shorts I've seen in months (considering that it's winter and raining). S decides to "change" while Joel and I head off to the wine cellar to more closely examine the production end of Il Vino Schizophreno Winery. A quick trip to the gun room allows us to select and conceal some protective devices in case we are accosted by any undesirables, or anyone who happens to draw our wrath. Kate and Sondra make it down the steps, and it's off to the "Big Wineries."

Clos du Val offered up a couple of Chardonnays, a Merlot and a couple of Cabs. Joel starts mumbling variously about asshuffing tourists taking up all the bar space, where the fuck are the barstools and titty dancers, cheap ass bar, half glasses of wine and no CD-juke box. The "hospitality host" begins to eye us warily. Always a good sign. We head for another winery, this time ZD Cellars. Big fountain in front. Inside are more wines, of acceptable quality. Joel examining one of the 30 liter displays, and asks how the fuck are we gonna get out of the tasting room with the bottle under his coat. We briefly discuss taking the bottle hostage, demanding barrel tasting with the winemaker, and consider the potential ramifications of an armed siege, albeit with limited ammo. Gal behind the bar watching us nervously, whispering to her fellow hospitality hosts. Time to go. Outside, we examine the fountain and notice the foam on the surface of the water. Joel pulls out his choad and proceeds to add to the foam. A quick stop at Mumm's Napa (Champagne Cellar), thinking the carbonation in the wine will simulate beer. Joel feeling much better now ("Strong fucking beer, tastes like shit.")

We head for the nearest brewpub, Calistoga Inn, (Napa Valley Brewing Co.) and start drinking Barley Wine, liberally alternating with Wheat/Red/Brown Ales. Still raining like a bastard outside, what better place to drink than in a bar? Joel now wandering about aimlessly, stumbles into a group of tourists, offers a couple of women an opportunity to smoke his choad. The bartender, hearing the word "smoke" advises that its a "non-smoking" establishment. Joel tells the barkeep to "Smoke This," and reveals the magnum held firmly in the under-the-arm holster. The bar gets uncomfortably quiet. I flash my State Bar card and advise the bartender that "It's OK, he's an undercover officer with the Oklahoma State Bureau of Narcotics Investigation," and he barely relaxes. Joel turns on me: "You fucking bastard! You blew my cover! I oughtta waste your sorry fucking shyster ass right here!" I smile. "You'd be on the floor leaking beer before you'd get the gun out of that fucking holster, Pig. You think it's worth the paperwork?" The tension level in the room goes up to 10, and a couple of dodgy-looking patrons start to edge sideways for the door. Joel suddenly notices the dartboards and asks for the darts ("Gimme a handful of needles. I feel like shooting something."). Bartender stammers out something like "They're all in the shop for repairs, sir, let me buy you and your friends another round, instead," hoping to force Joel back to the table where Sondra had previously had him wedged into the corner for support. Joel: "Why don't you buy a round for the house, ya cheap bastard." A few murmurs of assent from a couple of the remaining patrons, along with a number of nervous glances in our general direction. We down the beers and head for the car.

Sondra driving now, still raining like shit. We head south, for home. A couple of miles down the road, and flashing blue and red lights appear in FRONT of us. Thinking it's a squadron of sheriffs waiting for us with a roadblock, we do a four-wheel drift onto one of the little cross valley roads, heading east, giving them the slip. We can always double back cross valley in a couple of miles. At the double back, Sondra swerves off the road, narrowly missing a couple of huge trees, and brings the car to a sliding stop inches from an irrigation ditch, and declares it's time for a rest from driving. Sondra rumbling around in the trunk (boot), comes up with a 5th of Gin ("emergency supplies," she notes) which gets passed around. Standing outside in a downpour, swilling gin, we're soaked. Back onto the road, and to Il Vino Schizophreno without further major incident.

Ever done a Bar-B-Que in the rain? Nothing like a huge slab of charred beef to spur on consumption of alcohol. Pull the cork on a couple of wines, more beer, and what's this? A 1.75 of Volganaya (mmmmmm, smooth). Joel and Sondra now doing Volga shots, I'm pouring Bourbon directly into cans of Coke (to hell with ice and a glass, the Coke's cold enough), Kate realizes she has to be at work in a couple of hours and heads off in the direction of the crib. We head into the office to get in a few drunken phone calls. Still waiting on the phone bill to see who we called. My accountant has assured me that the calls are fully deductible. Memory hazy at this point.

Monday morning, ST. PADDY'S DAY! Get the corned beef and roots into the crockpot, need a few pints of ESB for liquid. Oh, yeah, better add some of this to the corny. Sondra and Joel ready to go. Hey, we forgot to take pictures. Easily remedied. Green Beer, anyone?

-Sully