I was in the cab on the way to Sutton Place for the Wines of Argentina tasting yesterday and my friend Faye says to me “Can you believe this is our life? Do you ever feel like an imposter?”. We had a great laugh, cause being in the wine industry is a little like that sometimes. Pretend you belong and you’ll fit right in, especially for a couple of dorky kids like us.

But really I have the most kick ass job on earth. I work in a wine store with what are now four of my best friends (my boss included), and get paid to go to tastings, eat delicious food, drink live and breathe wine; there’s a reason I start my Level 2 WSET in advanced wine knowledge at the Art Institute this Tuesday. It’s my passion.

The day started pretty  normally for a Thursday, with two wine reps coming in to sample us on some product (there’s an unspoken no spit bucket rule at our store mwah ah ah ), and then my boss was feeling a little tired so she sent me and my best friend Faye to the tasting instead, and what a tasting it was. 70% of these wines were unavailable in Canada and need some serious representation, which does us no good in the store, but we found some beautiful Malbec and Torrontes gems and left there a little red in the face to say the least. I went back to the store to relieve my poor stranded co-worker, and to close up shop and realized that there was also a Port and Chocolate tasting at the Vancouver Rowing Club right after work as well. Our reps love us for the geeks we are and often get us tickets to these events. So there I was, barely sobering up after one tasting, on my way to another. Yeesh.

Can we talk about the dream that IS port and chocolate together. Lazy Sundays when I lived in Montreal were defined by the two delicious treats, and I also ended up trying a beautiful Madeira, a different kind of appertif that went FANTASTICALLY with this milk chocolate that was infused with masala, the indian spice. Anyways, I hope your mouth is watering cause I just made a puddle.

Downstairs to the rowing club for a pint of guiness after the tasting before we got a call from our boss telling us she was now officially ready to get her Thursday on. I had done a week’s work of tasting in just five short hours and NOW she was ready for a drink?? Into the cab, off to Chill Winston for a delicious extra wet double twist bombay martini (if you EVER want to buy me a drink you now know what to get me), a few Ephemere’s and a plate of olives, surely the night is done?  Le sigh. Now it’s time for a dance and a few gins at the bourbon I’m told. Blast Ramp at the Bourbon featuring the endlessly talented and Vancouver icon My!Gay!Husband!, is a b-lasty people. Attend and dance to some great music.

I catch myself at 2am boppin’ to Michael Jackson yelling at my boss “I cannot be dancing to Beat It at 2 and be lunching with my Mother at Shangri-La by noon!!”, to which she replied “OF COURSE YOU CAN!” and then did some scissor move with her legs. Ridick. I thought it might be a good idea to get some air and walk home until I realized after 10 minutes I was headed in the wrong direction and was standing back outside Chill Winston. No no no no no. A phonecall went out to my husband who was clearly sleeping and did not pick up, a second phonecall went out to Patrick who picked up (the saint of saints) and talked me through gastown until I felt my way back up to Yaletown.

What’s the lesson if you’re still reading this? God there is none. I think I’m called The Indulgent One for a reason? And yes, I made it to Shangri-La by noon with bells on only to dive into a half litre of Cedar Creek Ehrenfelser. Nothing like a little hair of the poodle.

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