I need to validate my sense of humor, here, because apparently my fiancee doesn’t think I’m funny.
So: you can buy a wine called “Cat’s Pee On A Gooseberry Bush”, so named because that is the classic description of the aroma of a good Sauvignon Blanc. Arlene and I had nice meal a few days ago, part of which was this very acceptable wine. We’re always excited to find a wine we both like, so later on, we had a conversation about it, and she wondered if it possibly came in a red.
I replied “Could be, but I don’t know too many people who’d want to punch cats in the kidneys for a living.”
Now, let me be clear about one thing, here: I think I’m hilarious. I am hurting myself laughing at this point, I can barely keep the car I’m driving on the road, because this joke I’ve told myself is so awesome. Because all I can see is a pair of moustachioed, beret’d frenchmen saying
“Pierre, eet eez ze long day today, n’est pas?”
“Mais oui!” thud! mreowr! “Back in zee field, you!” (fling) “Gaston, hand me another.”
According to my deluded fiancee, this is not at all funny, and I’m somehow broken for even thinking it might be.