She gulped the champagne. It tasted awful. It always did. She did not regret it. She had few regrets about her life, or her choices in alcohol. That was just how Jolene lived, or at least how she tried.
You know, I’ve never had champagne that I actually enjoyed. I don’t know if it’s because I’m really just not much of a drinker anyway or if the people who I’ve had it for didn’t choose a nice tasting champagne. Either way, I’ve just never found it appealing. There was a girl in my jr. high class that was named Champagne… she was nice.
He sat at the bar staring into his drink. It was a rusty brown, clear and acidic. He had seen this exact scenario in a hundred films, drinking away troubles. He felt out of place in his suit and fancy tie, but this was the cliche for his particular situation. As he stared into the drink, he recalled the last time he’d had alcohol. Champagne. It was New Years, and they had toasted to a prosperous new horizon ahead of them. The time before that had been the night after his wedding, they had toasted to love and magic and the sparkle in each other’s eyes. He supposed that in an alternate reality he would have been drinking champagne right now. In a reality where he had come home as the proud shareholder in the next big thing. Instead he came home with the news that they were penniless and future-less. He stared back into his drink before taking a large gulp. There was nothing left to toast.
trouble is just a bubble in a champagne glass. or so i’m told. i’m not sure what to think now whether to trust my instincts (which i can’t understand) or to follow my heart (which is currently at its peak). i need advice, advice from you about whether or not to love you, to fall for you, to let my heart be broken or to turn back now, although i fear i’ve already gone too far.
The thick lake water bubbled like brown champagne after I jumped off the dock. Summer sounds blared in my ears until I hit the water. Silence. Just a simple “bloop bloop” as I drift to the bottom. My feet touch the sand and I propel myself upwards towards the surface, breaking brown champagne bubbles.
He gave me the chapagne and I knew the night would end the way I wanted it. He would be mine if past drinks were any indication. Champagne always made me get what I wanted and i wanted him.
I was greeted under the chandelier with a tall glass, and while everyone else was bustling around telling me where they were going to put my various personal belongings, I took pleasure in sipping the drink I held before me, cherishing this moment of calm before people would start attacking my hair, my make up, and finally lacing me into my dress. This would be my last moment of silence until after the ceremony, when I would no longer be Miss any more, but Mrs, and there was no way I was letting it slip through my fingers that easily.
It was the end of the year, a New Year’s party with a guy I barely knew. He poured me champagne. I told him I wasn’t great with alcohol, he told me it was good to start with this type to ease myself into it. He smiled at me and felt more drunk than I did after I’d finished the drink.
Three… everyone called out.
Two… I locked eyes with him.
One.
HAPPY NEW YEAR.
I found him, but his eyes never met mine.
It sparkles, glinting in the fluorescent lights that hang above her. She sighs as she swirls the champagne in the glass, glancing around the too large room. The glass finds its way to her lips as the laughter swirls around her just as the champagne does.
Champagne – lovely color, ugly taste. Those bubbles and the sharpness are not my style. I like the sparkles, I like the color, ! like the lightness of being.
Tiny bubbles float away, make some people happy but not for me.
I am light and sparkly and bright and shiny like champagne.
pupils lingering like violin notes
simpering at the warm saltbuds
that perspire in languid cusps,
the yawning ivory kisses
against the idea of a tan neckline
anticipate
and fizz with romantic desperation,
still supple with inexperience.
My first sip of champagne was bubbly and sweet. Normally i hate alcohol’s dark and bitter taste but that little swallow of champagne tasted…. good. I must have very cultured tastes, right? That sweetness was a beautiful touch on my tongue and I felt elated for a moment… it’s odd, I remember being so happy that first time I tried champagne, and yet at the time the sensation was barely noticeable.
Popping bottles in the ice like a blizzard. When we drink we do it right getting slizzurd. Sipping sizzurp in my ride like a 3-6. Now I’m feeling so fly like a G6.
I don’t really know the lyrics. So hopefully those are kind of correct.
Catherine was still trying to figure out why this man continued hanging out with her. She had retired from the dance floor more than two hours ago, and had strode over to the balcony with a glass of champagne for some fresh air when he came up to her side and started striking up a one-sided conversation.
Catherine kept a tight smile on her lips the whole time, mentally willing this stranger – she still hadn’t gotten his name yet! – to leave and let her be. But it seemed that he wasn’t getting the message.
“Woo!” Noelle screamed, topping off the bottle of champagne letting it spill over his bandmates and crew. Rory dancing beside his friend and running off as Bel snarled over the mishap. Alice standing dumfounded and giggling, trying to wipe off the alcohol from her skirt.
It was a night for celebration, no doubt about it. They had just received a gold record.
Patricia drunkenly walked through the kitchen with the champagne bottle in her hand. “Fabian!” she slurred as she saw the young boy getting a snack. “You should talk to me.”
Fabian rolled his eyes at her. “Drunk again aren’t you, Patricia?” he asked the girl.
“You bet,” she answered. She walked closer to him and suddenly fell into his arms. “Oh whoops!” she squealed. “Sorry ’bout that.”
Champagne is the classy alcohol. You see it at parties. You’re so fancy because you drink fucking champagne. Good for you and your sparkling shit. Happy new year. I hope you have a freaking fantastic night. Ooh, I’m drunk, but it’s champagne, so I’m still classy as shit. No you’re not. Go home.
Patricia grabbed the bottle of champagne and walked over to Fabian who was sitting in the kitchen. “You want some?” she asked him simply.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I might as well,” he answered to her.
Patricia popped the lid off and poured the champagne into a glass. “Here you go,” she said passing it to Fabian.
“Thanks,” he said.
Champagne is the classy alcohol. You see it at parties. You’re so fancy because you drink fucking champagne. Good for you and your sparkling shit. Happy new year. I hope you have a freaking fantastic night.
Pop! Kelsey giggles as warm suds sliip down the neck of the elegant bottle, dripping on her hands. “Happy new year everyone!” she cries. Everyone around her, her family, closest friends, all cheer to ring in the new year. She sighs and pours herself some of the fizzling drink. A great new year it will be!
I remember a lot of things you probably forgot, things you tossed away like Monday mornings, loose change, and pocket lint. They taste burns in the back of my throat, like champagne and dirt. I don’t have the courage to say the things I used to; to spit out the wishes and secrets my heart is screaming. I can feel them twisting behind my teeth to find their way out, pounding like a heartbeat in my temples, clawing at the path once ridden on.
I’ve been working on the cocktail, but I figure I’ll try foraging. Doing yourself is the new trend, you know. And foraging is the root of that (ha, the root), certainly. All the best do it, from the chefs to the great cooks on the rocky shores of Northern Europe. And all I have is this home soda maker, this sprig of rosemary, this bit of refined sugar, and this instant-boil pot, as I pretend that, I too, am of the earth.
Its a drink and its red a lot of the time. You see it a lot in movies and a lot of rich and bigtime people drink it. People drink it a lot at night time at dinner or afterwards.
If you blow champagne up, what comes out?
Brain, lucid, sparkly and dewy.
And the lights, and the slither, and the slithering dancer
In the middle.
It all comes out.
Jake took another sip from the glass of champagne on the table. The pretty red-head peered at him curiously.
“Your life isn’t going well, is it, Mr. Paddingfoot?” she asked. Jake looked up at her in surprise, and she smile softly.
“You’re twenty five, and your daughter is seven,” she pointed out. Jake flushed.
“You don’t know me,” he muttered. Sophie’s teacher passed him a card.
“Perhaps not,” she said quietly. “But I will if you want me to.” Jake looked down as she swept away.
“Dotty Orace,” he muttered aloud. “Hm.”
“You, bring the champagne over here right now!” A strong female voice commanded. Jensen could hear bottle clinking as the case of magnums was hauled across the barn floor.
But his mind was on the clinking of the irons in the fire, not the champagne.
The champagne twirled around the glass like a whirl pool. The colour of it was so beautiful, with all the bubbles it had. When she sipped it, the bubbles had tickled her nose, making her sneeze, having everyone look at her.
champagne is awesome. I don’t know why, but it just is. It might be becuase of it’s awesome taste, and how it looks. I know that sounds weird, but oh well. I don’t really care. It is cool. I like champagne. Champagne sounds like a cool word. It is a cool word. Ha. Champagne has bubbles and that’s what makes it taste good (:
Champagne. I wonder what origin the word is from… sounds french, right? I’m pretty sure etymology is what a linguistics student studies, do they not? It’s one of my options for a college degree.. actually, speaking of, I should be studying for my exams, shouldn’t I? Better get on that. I think I’ve typed more on here than I have in my entire essay. 1200 words to go, wonderful.
La chamapaña estaba abierta, su burbujeante sonido me lo decía
Extendí los brazos y me le acerque
Su pelo liso y negro me dio un escalofrio
Era simplemente bellisima
Tome una copa y se la entregue
Chocamos las copas, ambos compartiendo una amplia sonrisa
El sonido agudo de las copas sonó y luego todo se desvaneció
Ya todo había terminado entre nosotros
She gulped the champagne. It tasted awful. It always did. She did not regret it. She had few regrets about her life, or her choices in alcohol. That was just how Jolene lived, or at least how she tried.
You know, I’ve never had champagne that I actually enjoyed. I don’t know if it’s because I’m really just not much of a drinker anyway or if the people who I’ve had it for didn’t choose a nice tasting champagne. Either way, I’ve just never found it appealing. There was a girl in my jr. high class that was named Champagne… she was nice.
He sat at the bar staring into his drink. It was a rusty brown, clear and acidic. He had seen this exact scenario in a hundred films, drinking away troubles. He felt out of place in his suit and fancy tie, but this was the cliche for his particular situation. As he stared into the drink, he recalled the last time he’d had alcohol. Champagne. It was New Years, and they had toasted to a prosperous new horizon ahead of them. The time before that had been the night after his wedding, they had toasted to love and magic and the sparkle in each other’s eyes. He supposed that in an alternate reality he would have been drinking champagne right now. In a reality where he had come home as the proud shareholder in the next big thing. Instead he came home with the news that they were penniless and future-less. He stared back into his drink before taking a large gulp. There was nothing left to toast.
trouble is just a bubble in a champagne glass. or so i’m told. i’m not sure what to think now whether to trust my instincts (which i can’t understand) or to follow my heart (which is currently at its peak). i need advice, advice from you about whether or not to love you, to fall for you, to let my heart be broken or to turn back now, although i fear i’ve already gone too far.
The thick lake water bubbled like brown champagne after I jumped off the dock. Summer sounds blared in my ears until I hit the water. Silence. Just a simple “bloop bloop” as I drift to the bottom. My feet touch the sand and I propel myself upwards towards the surface, breaking brown champagne bubbles.
He gave me the chapagne and I knew the night would end the way I wanted it. He would be mine if past drinks were any indication. Champagne always made me get what I wanted and i wanted him.
i tasted genuine champagne at my friend’s place. it tasted fantastic. the taste of genuine one. i learned what it means to be genuine.
I was greeted under the chandelier with a tall glass, and while everyone else was bustling around telling me where they were going to put my various personal belongings, I took pleasure in sipping the drink I held before me, cherishing this moment of calm before people would start attacking my hair, my make up, and finally lacing me into my dress. This would be my last moment of silence until after the ceremony, when I would no longer be Miss any more, but Mrs, and there was no way I was letting it slip through my fingers that easily.
It was the end of the year, a New Year’s party with a guy I barely knew. He poured me champagne. I told him I wasn’t great with alcohol, he told me it was good to start with this type to ease myself into it. He smiled at me and felt more drunk than I did after I’d finished the drink.
Three… everyone called out.
Two… I locked eyes with him.
One.
HAPPY NEW YEAR.
I found him, but his eyes never met mine.
It sparkles, glinting in the fluorescent lights that hang above her. She sighs as she swirls the champagne in the glass, glancing around the too large room. The glass finds its way to her lips as the laughter swirls around her just as the champagne does.
Champagne – lovely color, ugly taste. Those bubbles and the sharpness are not my style. I like the sparkles, I like the color, ! like the lightness of being.
Tiny bubbles float away, make some people happy but not for me.
I am light and sparkly and bright and shiny like champagne.
pupils lingering like violin notes
simpering at the warm saltbuds
that perspire in languid cusps,
the yawning ivory kisses
against the idea of a tan neckline
anticipate
and fizz with romantic desperation,
still supple with inexperience.
a drink,
varied in color,
the taste,
i am not sure,
for i am only two
My first sip of champagne was bubbly and sweet. Normally i hate alcohol’s dark and bitter taste but that little swallow of champagne tasted…. good. I must have very cultured tastes, right? That sweetness was a beautiful touch on my tongue and I felt elated for a moment… it’s odd, I remember being so happy that first time I tried champagne, and yet at the time the sensation was barely noticeable.
Popping bottles in the ice like a blizzard. When we drink we do it right getting slizzurd. Sipping sizzurp in my ride like a 3-6. Now I’m feeling so fly like a G6.
I don’t really know the lyrics. So hopefully those are kind of correct.
“A toast to you, my lovely lady.”
Catherine was still trying to figure out why this man continued hanging out with her. She had retired from the dance floor more than two hours ago, and had strode over to the balcony with a glass of champagne for some fresh air when he came up to her side and started striking up a one-sided conversation.
Catherine kept a tight smile on her lips the whole time, mentally willing this stranger – she still hadn’t gotten his name yet! – to leave and let her be. But it seemed that he wasn’t getting the message.
fizzy, bubbly, tickles my throat as it moves down my mouth.We laugh with delight and joy at the new year as the ball falls toward the ground.
“Woo!” Noelle screamed, topping off the bottle of champagne letting it spill over his bandmates and crew. Rory dancing beside his friend and running off as Bel snarled over the mishap. Alice standing dumfounded and giggling, trying to wipe off the alcohol from her skirt.
It was a night for celebration, no doubt about it. They had just received a gold record.
Patricia drunkenly walked through the kitchen with the champagne bottle in her hand. “Fabian!” she slurred as she saw the young boy getting a snack. “You should talk to me.”
Fabian rolled his eyes at her. “Drunk again aren’t you, Patricia?” he asked the girl.
“You bet,” she answered. She walked closer to him and suddenly fell into his arms. “Oh whoops!” she squealed. “Sorry ’bout that.”
He shrugged. “It’s alright I guess.”
Champagne is the classy alcohol. You see it at parties. You’re so fancy because you drink fucking champagne. Good for you and your sparkling shit. Happy new year. I hope you have a freaking fantastic night. Ooh, I’m drunk, but it’s champagne, so I’m still classy as shit. No you’re not. Go home.
Patricia grabbed the bottle of champagne and walked over to Fabian who was sitting in the kitchen. “You want some?” she asked him simply.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I might as well,” he answered to her.
Patricia popped the lid off and poured the champagne into a glass. “Here you go,” she said passing it to Fabian.
“Thanks,” he said.
Champagne is the classy alcohol. You see it at parties. You’re so fancy because you drink fucking champagne. Good for you and your sparkling shit. Happy new year. I hope you have a freaking fantastic night.
toast the new year, and down the champagne.
and secretly remember that nothing will change.
He walked towards her with a bottle in one had and two glasses in the other. He set it down on the table in front of her and she smiled.
He smirked in return and leaned down. He carefully took the top off the drink and poured the liquid into the glasses.
“Happy New Year, love,” he says to her.
“Yes, it is.” And then she captures his lips in a kiss as the clock strikes twelve.
Live life at its fullest. Drink champagne!
Pop! Kelsey giggles as warm suds sliip down the neck of the elegant bottle, dripping on her hands. “Happy new year everyone!” she cries. Everyone around her, her family, closest friends, all cheer to ring in the new year. She sighs and pours herself some of the fizzling drink. A great new year it will be!
my champagne is for whomever the LORD puts in the white house.
I remember a lot of things you probably forgot, things you tossed away like Monday mornings, loose change, and pocket lint. They taste burns in the back of my throat, like champagne and dirt. I don’t have the courage to say the things I used to; to spit out the wishes and secrets my heart is screaming. I can feel them twisting behind my teeth to find their way out, pounding like a heartbeat in my temples, clawing at the path once ridden on.
A nice bubbly glass of champagne in the evening would be nice. Preferably Moscato…(My Mind is blank today) See Ya!
What people drink at New Year’s Eve. Also a colour – not such a nice one, if you ask me. :)
I’ve been working on the cocktail, but I figure I’ll try foraging. Doing yourself is the new trend, you know. And foraging is the root of that (ha, the root), certainly. All the best do it, from the chefs to the great cooks on the rocky shores of Northern Europe. And all I have is this home soda maker, this sprig of rosemary, this bit of refined sugar, and this instant-boil pot, as I pretend that, I too, am of the earth.
Its a drink and its red a lot of the time. You see it a lot in movies and a lot of rich and bigtime people drink it. People drink it a lot at night time at dinner or afterwards.
If you blow champagne up, what comes out?
Brain, lucid, sparkly and dewy.
And the lights, and the slither, and the slithering dancer
In the middle.
It all comes out.
Jake took another sip from the glass of champagne on the table. The pretty red-head peered at him curiously.
“Your life isn’t going well, is it, Mr. Paddingfoot?” she asked. Jake looked up at her in surprise, and she smile softly.
“You’re twenty five, and your daughter is seven,” she pointed out. Jake flushed.
“You don’t know me,” he muttered. Sophie’s teacher passed him a card.
“Perhaps not,” she said quietly. “But I will if you want me to.” Jake looked down as she swept away.
“Dotty Orace,” he muttered aloud. “Hm.”
“You, bring the champagne over here right now!” A strong female voice commanded. Jensen could hear bottle clinking as the case of magnums was hauled across the barn floor.
But his mind was on the clinking of the irons in the fire, not the champagne.
The champagne twirled around the glass like a whirl pool. The colour of it was so beautiful, with all the bubbles it had. When she sipped it, the bubbles had tickled her nose, making her sneeze, having everyone look at her.
And razor blades. The music heals me, it makes me feel something worth living for instead of tracing the blade over my skin.
I’d never have the courage to press it down anyway.
champagne is awesome. I don’t know why, but it just is. It might be becuase of it’s awesome taste, and how it looks. I know that sounds weird, but oh well. I don’t really care. It is cool. I like champagne. Champagne sounds like a cool word. It is a cool word. Ha. Champagne has bubbles and that’s what makes it taste good (:
Champagne. I wonder what origin the word is from… sounds french, right? I’m pretty sure etymology is what a linguistics student studies, do they not? It’s one of my options for a college degree.. actually, speaking of, I should be studying for my exams, shouldn’t I? Better get on that. I think I’ve typed more on here than I have in my entire essay. 1200 words to go, wonderful.
La chamapaña estaba abierta, su burbujeante sonido me lo decía
Extendí los brazos y me le acerque
Su pelo liso y negro me dio un escalofrio
Era simplemente bellisima
Tome una copa y se la entregue
Chocamos las copas, ambos compartiendo una amplia sonrisa
El sonido agudo de las copas sonó y luego todo se desvaneció
Ya todo había terminado entre nosotros