Wine in A Box

Wine in a box. Making a comeback? Perhaps.

Fish Eye is making a hard sell, touting it as the oak barrel of today. When I think about wine in a box, I think of 1983, hot tub parties, Virginia Slims and my mom. Yes, my mom. Who drank wine from a box, smoked Virginia Slims along with all her friends, in 1983, having hot tub parties.

Of course, right about now, you must be thinking my childhood was akin to that of a pre Jenna Jameson porn world where pizza and pool guys got lucky at the mere ring of the doorbell. But, alas, that's not true. Think more along the lines of tree hugging hippiedom and being one with nature.

So, back to wine in a box. Will it ever be cool? Hip? Trendy? Classy? I have read that screw top wine bottles are replacing the cork, as the screw top maintains a fresher wine. I can try wine in a box, but I draw the line at screw top a la Strawberry Hill, bottles. Which by the way, I know you have a story about , so you need to spill. My story is deeply disturbing and brings on my gag reflex, so I will save it for another day.

Where was I? Oh yes, boxes, wine, hippies. The point? None, I just wanted to see if you would buy it. So, would you?

For the record, my mom was only 25 in 1983, so cut her some slack will ya.

ANTM

I made a realization today while at the gym. I had forgotten my Ipod and only had headphones in my car, so I plugged into the T.V. so graciously provided by my friends at la gym.

The channel was Vh1, the show was America's Next Top Model, the trap was laid.

I became so engrossed in ANTM that I was on the treadmill for 30 extra minutes. Oh, the drama, oh, the fashion, oh, the....Tyra?

Much like a drug addiction begins, first socially, only with friends, then an aching need to get high, then sneaking around behind everyone's back to get your fix.

I figured I had better just come out now and say, "Hi, my name is Jayne, and I watch America's Next Top Model", before I found myself setting up the DVR to record every episode. (First run and repeats please)

My husband did stage an intervention as soon as I got home and told him about my new found euphoria with reality T.V. He immediately switched to "Dirty Jobs", oh, that Mike Rowe. I heart him.

I think I may have a problem.