Putt O'Nyos

in 140 characters or more

In Putt Ponders on December 13, 2012 at 7:38 pm

In the two months since I’ve joined Twitter, I’ve vented random frustrations and mocked trends I’ve observed whilst serving and drinking around NYC. I’ve also tweeted several ambiguous limericks, if only because the juxtaposition of antiquated English poetry and twenty-first century prattle makes me chuckle. Perhaps by limiting myself to such subjects of less-than-universal appeal I have dug my own grave of Twitter obscurity.

So be it.

But I feel that I’ve left my eighty (give or take) followers wanting more, so I’d like to take a moment to elaborate on several tweets. For if they have the attention span to read up to 140 characters at a time, surely they’ll enjoy this.

Cold, rainy night – how much zweigelt & poulsard I can slip past unimaginative drinkers clamoring for big, rich reds? #bartenderboredom

No, I’m not trying to trick you. But I do have to keep myself reasonably entertained at work, and as temperatures slowly drop Bartender Boredom quickly sets in. Too many people follow an unwritten and absurd rule: come December it is unacceptable to drink white wine.  Real people drink red – and big bruisers at that. How else can one stay warm in such harsh forty degree weather?

So forgive me if I’ve created a little game for myself. Instead of some negroamaro or uva di troia I’ll pour you a poulsard. Light & peppery with a good amount of acid – it’s not at all what you were asking for, but you’ll be pleasantly surprised. A challenge can be more rewarding than comfortable security. Plus, your mouth won’t be ripped to shreds by all those tannins. Now, may I interest you in some kadarka?

Non devi spiegarmi cos’è l’aglianico – già lo conosco bene. Bravo, hai fatto la figura di merda. #SurpriseIspeakItalianbetterthanyou.

(You needn’t explain what ‘aglianico’ is. I already know it well. Good job, you’ve made an ass of yourself.)

Lest you forget, this is New York – a city of over eight million people with incredibly diverse backgrounds. You probably shouldn’t assume that I can’t speak another language, and unless you’re confident in your proficiency I would not recommend rolling your r’s so flagrantly. It’s better to give me the benefit of the doubt rather than launch into a rehearsed and pathetic discourse on indigenous Italian varietals. Duh.

Sorry, but the “funk” that you call “cool” is just straight up Brett. Now I can only smell jasmine-crusted bandaids. Great suggestion.

Brettanomyces can be kind of “cool,” in the same way that your perpetually stoned & shower-phobic college friend – let’s call him Brett – is “cool.” Sure, every now and again he adds something mildly entertaining and different to the mix, but you don’t want him crashing on your couch for weeks and fouling up your whole place.

Sometimes a wine is faulty. Frustrating and sad though it may be, it’s not the end of the world. There are other wines out there, so let’s stop pretending that this barnyard funk gives this one character. If you’re content to drink it, by all means be my guest – but I’ll have something else.

Dear North Face clad 22 year olds: thanks for your patronage, but all your Malbec-guzzling makes us look bad. So stop. Sincerely Argentina.

If you’ve just graduated from college and moved to New York, don’t wear your North Face to the bar. The company may not have the monopoly on warm clothing, but they do on making you look like an insufferable dillhole.

North Face may have been the perfect all-purpose attire while you studied abroad in Argentina, but you’re not in Buenos Aires any more. Don’t you think it’s time you moved on and started wearing adult clothes and drinking something other than malbec?

Furthermore, no one should wear North Face while in a city, New York or otherwise. How’s this: if you wear North Face, I will card you. I don’t care if you are obviously thirty. You may say “there’s no way you could possibly think I’m under twenty-one,” to which I will promptly reply, “there’s no way you could possibly think that fleece was a good call, and yet here we both are, you in your modern day dunce cap, and I refusing to serve you.”

Way to put a muzzle on me, Twitter.

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