The nose is sharp, like road work in mid July amid a salty sweat. Instead of a nurtured fruit, the first impression upon the tip of my tongue is an angry, vengeful epoch of Apocalyptic caliber as I almost felt read more...assaulted as it hit mid tongue and circled to my gums. My Gums!
What happened to these poor lost souls of horticultural zymurgy?

Read more: http://www.snooth.com/wine/dancing-b...#ixzz0yp2n0BGz

OMG!

That tone and style is vaguely reminiscent.
Has somebody playing savior of the palate today?
funnierNshit!
:rofl: