last night, i spent an hour de-corking a bottle of wine. because i wanted to drink it, and i wanted to drink it NOW. and i wasn't trying to share a bottle with my roommate (though she did generously offer) who had a twist-off cap, oh no. i needed the full bottle to myself, because last night was the only night off i'll have for the rest of eternity, and without another chance for debauchery and foolishness on the horizon, i needed to go out with a bang. so i was planning on making the most of it (judging by the fact that i woke up this morning with my sandals still on and my phone in my hand, mid-text (to a bff thank the LORD i wasn't doing any drunk sexting. nothing more embarrassing than waking up to that discovery), i'd say i succeeded). but, our cork screwer happened to be mysteriously missing. i shelby woo'd (anyone? anyone?) around the kitchen for a while, checking all the nooks and crannies, and growing exponentially more frustrated and more in need of the golden liquid that was so close and so far from my reach. so zANYWAYS, i finally give up in utter despair and am seriously contemplating slamming the neck of the bottle against the counter with a bucket underneath to catch that juicy nectar (um...unintentionally sounding like an erotic story and not hating it...uncomfortable). but then, i spotted this long, two-pronged gadget that i think may or may not be used for checking meat tenderness (erotic story alert, hi-yo!), and i had an idea. my resolve was set right then and there -- i was going to macguyver that bottle open if it killed me (which it almost did).

so i grab the two-pronger and i start chipping away at that shit like perez hilton on lindsay lohan. tiny bits of cork are flying this way and that. it's hard to really get more than slivers out at a time, but i'm not deterred. if anything, i'm insanely proud of my ingenuity. i finally get a few big (relative term) chunks out, and i'm digging around in there like one of my second graders in their nose. my roommate is watching with a unique combination of awe and disgust. i'm so dedicated to my craft (my craft obviously being alcoholism) that i don't even notice that i'm bleeding a little from an overeager prong-incident. (once i notice, of course, i spend five minutes thinking i'm going to develop rabies and die a very Dr. Quinn-esque death, have vivid images of foaming mouths flash through my mind, then get over it and band-aid my pinky. crisis averted).

so i'm working it for a good while when i start to think that i may have underestimated just how much cork is in there. because i've got a good little pile of woodchips beside me, and no wine to show for my efforts yet. i place my instruments down and regard my sly opponent for a red hot moment. and then, lightening strikes in the same place twice and my brain explodes with a Great Idea. the prongs are having difficulty reaching the remaining mangled cork, so i race my way into my room, pick up my scissors, and walk slowly back into the kitchen because one time i was seven and running with scissors despite my dad's frequent warnings otherwise, and i murdered the stuffed animal that was in my other hands. bloodbath. soooo, yeah.

i'm stabbing the scissors into the cork and am trying to keep my distance because i don't want the wine to explode into my face, but the teensy bit of cork that's a stubborn little bitch isn't moving, so i lean closer to get a better grip and inspect the situation. obviously, i wasn't thinking of the golden rule that every sitcom in existence has taught me -- as soon as you lean forward to get a closer look at something, it blows up in your face. LITERALLY. a straight shot of white wine to my eye. i was blinded both with pride and pain. SHIT that hurt! and, i had to re-do my eye make up. total lose/lose except it was an INSANE WIN because i could start drinking to medicate the pain immediately and also get adequately sloppy for the night. and, sir, i did. success was mine, and success was wine (pun alert), and it tasted sweet (and a little corky).