If I could only stop wining

They say that fear of public speaking is the most common phobia of all. Not the case. If you’ve ever seen “Dr. Phil” or “Judge Judy,” it’s obvious that the people who should fear public speaking the most, don’t.

Public speaking is way down on my list of common fears — the fear that a day will go by without news of Tom, Katie and Suri is near the top; the fear that my doctor will prescribe diet and exercise for my condition instead of easy-to-swallow pills and bed rest pops up often; the fear that a lower-paid immigrant writer will take my job keeps me up at night.

But the No. 1 fear on my list is having to buy wine to take to a dinner party. It makes me crazy.

“Is $3 a bottle too little? Is $6 a bottle too much?” I ask. Sue consequently gives me the “I could have married someone so much better” look.

Here’s a look at the wine-to-dinner price-ratio.

“How much would it cost us to eat dinner in a restaurant tonight?”

“Forty, 50 bucks.”

“Then that’s what you’re going to spend on the wine.”

“I’ll go up to 10 bucks. That’s it. It’s the Fergusons. They don’t know any more about wine than we do.”

Why me? I never feel comfortable in the liquor store. It’s not that I’m ashamed of my drinking. It’s just that you get a discount by the case.

“Gee, Jim, that’s a lot of vodka you’ve got there. Are you sure two cases is enough?”

“Ahhhh, I’m giving a party.”

“And you didn’t invite me?”

“It’s for the children.”

“You’re serving vodka to children?”

“Oh, no. I meant a fundraiser for the children.”

“For what children. ‘The Children of Alcoholic Parents?’ Shouldn’t you be serving club soda?”

The thing that always surprises me about liquor stores is how much of the stuff is made for “younger drinkers.” It’s the first thing you see when you walk in the store. To get to the wine section you have to walk past rows of “My First Schnapps,” “Britney Spears’ Tween Tequila” and “Whiskey me Elmo.”

I haven’t got a clue what kind of wine to pick. My copy of this month’s “Boxed Varietals Monthly” magazine must have gotten lost in the mail. I’ll have judge by the labels. Here’s one. It’s got a bull on it. What has a bull got to do with wine? Here’s one with a woodchuck. Nothing says “quality” vino like a woodchuck. Hmmm.

There’s an entire shelf of wine with one name funnier than the next. Is that the main thing people look for in a wine? Comedy? I passed on bottles of “Creepy Old Wino,” “Kiss My Cask,” and “The Red Stain.”

There seems to be another whole category of wines that cost double what the comedy wines cost. They have names that mean something to the owner of the wine company, but to no one else. “Frog’s Landing” “Copper Key.” “Cloven Hoof.” It’s like paying more for refrigerator poetry.

Then there is celebrity wine. Golfer Greg Norman, Director Francis Ford Coppola and the man who played Davy Crockett, actor Fess Parker, are all said to make fine wines. But do the Fergusons know that? Or will Bob look at my bottle of Coppola and say, “I hope it’s better than ‘Godfather III.'”

Jim Mullen is the author of “It Takes a Village Idiot: Complicating the Simple Life” and “Baby’s First Tattoo.” You can reach him at [email protected].