My roommate and I are both people who dig the English language. Since we appreciate it, it gives us license to butcher it on occasion.

Given the fact that going to the liquor store in our neighborhood led to an impromptu wine tasting (and conversation with a wine expert who was speaking a language I simply do not understand), the following transpired at our apartment:

Michelle: …because you are hellbent on making me actually blush at your words?
Michelle: OK, that was for real the last reference (Ed. note: referring to me accidentally sticking my foot in my mouth earlier in the evening).
Victoria: You don’t merlot that.
Michelle: But chardonnay! Er…sure do?
Victoria: Chianti see it? It would be magical.
Michelle: Ah shraz do!

And now I’m sipping my lambic as the snow comes down. I kind of love my life.