Greetings from Transilvania


dear bottle of wine,

why must you insist on staining my teeth and tongue red when I drink you? and why must you intoxicate me so? i thought we had an amicable relationship here, but all you ever do to me is make me fall over and look like i’ve been drinking blood.

if this kind of behavior continues, i will have no choice but to shack up with your bastard cousin – WHITE WINE.

if we can’t reconcile, i’ll have to leave you.



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