I'm gonna guess it tasted like a young merlot.
“This wine tastes like hobo balls,” I said, loud enough for the entire room to hear. Even as the words left my mouth, I knew that it was a horrible, horrible mistake. It’s not the sort of observation that a civilized person should make, and certainly not while partaking in a posh wine tasting.

If I was smart, I would’ve kept my trap shut after finishing my third bottle. I would have just nodded thoughtfully, crinkling my nose as if carefully pondering the wine’s essence. If I felt compelled to speak, I should have repeated what the other more knowledgeable (and less obviously blasted) people were saying. “Yes, yes, I agree. This wine is very young. It still has too many tannins.” But no, that would’ve been too easy. I just had to bring up hobo balls.

In my defense, the wine did taste a little of scrotum. I may have been exaggerating slightly to suggest that it had a hearty hobo flavor, but there was definitely something testicley about it.

Here are a few other things that, as I soon discovered, it isn’t appropriate to say during a wine tasting:

“This wine tastes so good, I’d drink it through the ass crack of a dead hooker.”

“You know how I figured out that this wine isn’t from France? It hasn’t surrendered to the Nazis.”

“Does all wine contain the Blood of Christ or just certain varietals?”

“You know what’d go well with this wine? A microwave burrito and a fistful of Pop Tarts.”

“I fucking love you, man.”
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 30 May 2008, 19:14, Reply)