You know you’re having a post-grad panic attack when you wake up your dog at 5am to ask him how he has his life so together. Lowest of lows.

the wine tasting

Lately I’ve been crossing things off of my own list of Duke “graduation requirements.” The only real unofficial graduation requirement I ever fulfilled was driving  the opposite direction around traffic circle —hardcore I know. But venturing to Asheville was a personal requirement I wasn’t going to give up on, and so three of my closest friends and I made a weekend of it.

Along the way we stopped for caffeine and snacks and ended up being mocked by Quickie Mart workers. I’m sorry gas station employees but what was so funny about me wanting to pay with coinage?  It’s currency is it not? And yes, the four of us may have been a bit giddy at the sight of a gorgeous man popping out of the bathroom, but how many times does Prince Charming pop out of the rest stop toilette and then help you find the Red Bull? That’s what I thought.

Asheville itself definitely made up for the less than fabulous pit stop.The views around that place are gorgeous—it’s just trees and blue mountains everywhere you look—so stunning. What’s so cool about Asheville is that it’s a town, and a city all at the same time. It feels cozy, like you might run into people you know while out walking, but there still seems to be a lot to do with galleries and cafes all over the place. The eclectic population certainly makes it whimsical as well. Everywhere you look there’s an amalgamation of super artsy folk, granola people, and then those people who just seem incredibly cool….how do they do that…how are they alternative hipsters?

Day two it was off to the Biltmore Estate where we did a wine tasting. We were especially looking forward to this as we often purchase our favorite Rose, a Biltmore White Zinfandel, at Target for $5.98.  We’re so fancy I know. The tasting had sounded like a great idea until we got there and I realized I was mortified. I felt like such a poser. I don’t know how to twirl, sniff, and taste wine like a real wino, AND they carded us! That’s never that bad if you’re going to a club or something, but I was on a wine tasting. Please people I’m trying to act cultured, allow me my dignity.

My wine observations are usually one of two things: “yummy,” or “it burns my throat.” Once we finally made it to the bar I started seriously overcompensating for the fact that I didn’t know anything technical about this process. When I sensed that one of my friends was gettin’ a little happy, I immediately started speaking to John, our server, in my “professional voice.”

We wanted to try the Rose we normally buy, you know, cause we knew we liked it, but after scanning the menu we realized they don’t actually serve the $5.98 bottles at the winery. Those bottles are so “select” that they reserve them for highbrow establishments such as Target.  In an effort to find the next best bottle we tried every single wine on the list. About an hour later we began to realize that all the people who had entered the tasting room at the same times as us had moved on to purchase bottles while we were still having John pour our free samples. Shameless.  At one point John asked us: “Will this be your last glass for the afternoon?” My friend simply replied “No,” and asked him to re-pour her favorite “to make sure.”  As I’m sitting here re-living this I’m wondering why I was even embarrassed…you’ve got to take advantage of the free things in life. Oh, the fragile pride of a 21 year old who clearly takes herself too seriously.

I did learn a lot from that wine tasting though. For example, though I can’t quite detect the notes of vanilla in the aftertaste of the Riesling, I learned the swirl, sniff, and sip technique just well enough to make people across the bar think I’m detecting something. Truth.

That sad moment when you pack up all your stuff for a few hours of quality paper writing in the library…..and you forget your charger

Just stopped following @nycmarketingjobs on Twitter AND IT FEELS SO GOOD! LA I’m all yours! 13 days……

Who was I kidding? I get cold in 60 degree weather, and I miss home!

AND I’m sick of having to re-teach my grandparents how to use Skype every time they want to see me (as opposed to being constantly, but lovingly, stalked by them while in LA county).