white wine at Petaluma Cheese Factory

Let me start by saying that about only half of this bottle was consumed, however the entire bottle was thoroughly emptied.
It's mid-Summer and the countryside is humming with insects and drying grass. My boyfriend, Jason and I drive out to the Cheese Factory for a small picnic to celebrate a luna-versary. We first go inside, sample some cheese, grab a cheap bottle of wine, grab some olives and small sandwiches, and then come outside to eat and imbibe.
The food was consumed lackadaisically, the olive pits were spitted and the birds were fed by extra bread. I tasted the wine, which was a pinot grigio by a winery I don't know of, that you can always find for a very good, too good of a price at the Cheese Factory. I think it was mis-stored, mishandled, or just neglected. It was sour. Just for their sake, it was the first bad bottle I've ever had there. However it was hot, I don't like to waste food and I was thirsty, so I kept drinking. So did Jason, but not for very long, since he is more honest with himself. It was bad, so he stopped drinking. But not before he got overly silly by the wine.
I feel something cold on my shoulder, I looked over to see that he is pouring wine, drop by drop, on my shoulder. I immediately tried to make him stop but I suddenly felt the urge to do it too; I wanted revenge. I caught him off-gaurd and spilled some on his foot. In a flurry, some ended up in my ear and then all over his shorts and by the time this story comes to a climax, the wine is shooting up my nose thanks to some fabulous angle he had on me. We were both laughing our faces off, but I started to mix laughing with semi-crying and snorting sounds, while trying to work the wine out of my sinuses.
Let me just tell you: eye-balls don't react to wine all that pleasantly. Suddenly my eyes are watery, my nose is running with pinot grigio and I have the bottle in my hand with about 1/4 cup of wine left. He tried to talk me down, and as our laughs subsided to cautious sounds of turning tables, I felt foolish and sat there, telling him how I didn't appreciate "all of this because I don't like to waste wine" and then some reality check hit me and I thought: this wine really isn't good, Anne, just finish it off and enjoy the wine more by not drinking it at all. Before I could finish the thought, I was more than convinced, and, looking hypocritical, the wine was already flying out of my cup and smacking him straight in the face at point-blank. I tried to get the "up the nose" angle that he got on me, but that didn't work. My aim was pretty good though, and we were both sweating wine out of our pores by the end of the picnic.
I really truly enjoyed the wine. I just don't think it tasted good at all.