the repeated corkscrew debacle

you would think i would learn. time after time it fools me. it looks at me with its curvy arms and tempting twirling curves and calls out to me. do you see me, it seems to say, sucking me in yet again. so i take a look at my pathetic, yet totally sufficient, collection of wines. i take the appropriate amount of time to decide between red or white (let's be honest, about 42 seconds) and the comdey of errors begins. i place the super-duper-fancy corkscrew in and inevetiably it shoves the cork down into the bottle, splashing wine all over my kitchen, and well, usually me. the dilema now comes in this form: do i drink a glass or two and let the rest turn to vinegar, or do i polish off the bottle and possibly end up on top of a barbed wire fence or roof in my head with em? oh corkswrew, how you hate me so.