The 52 Year Old Virgin

My wife.

So tonight was the company Christmas Party. Connie decided to have her hair done, and drove into Bend to have our lovely belly dancer friend Cindy do it. She'd never tried Cindy before, but everyone said Cindy is "da bomb".

Connie's never had her hair colored before, and when Cindy found out she called Connie the "52 year old virgin". Ha ha.

I gotta say, Cindy is da bomb. Connie's hair looks great. I'm married to Heather Locklear.

Those of you who've met me know I dress casual. Black jeans, black tennis shoes and a polo shirt and I'm good to go. Tonight, alas, I wore dress slacks and a nice shirt and a tie. Tim the Marketing Guy said, "Wow, look at you." I guess he didn't notice my tennis shoes.

Someone at the table made a toast...

The best years of my life,
Were spent in the lap of another man's wife...
My mother's.

As you can see, there was an open bar.

As I was leaving, dressed in a full-length black coat and my black fedora, Mark the Production Guy with the London accent thought I looked sharp, and especially liked the hat. Looking at my coat, he asked if I was carrying a gun underneath it. I laughed and said, "Not yet." He said that some of the other guys like to go target shooting, and I asked if he ever did that. "No, I'm English," he said. heh. Does he realize he's in Oregon now?

There were less than three dozen of us at the party, yet I met at least two real estate agents. I was chatting with a plus-one and I used the word "house" in a sentence and it was like I'd flipped a switch. "Are you looking for a house? I'm a real estate agent!" she said, suddenly alert like a cat that's spotted something small and furry twitching its nose.

A couple of days ago it was unseasonably warm, and tonight we drove home from the Christmas Party in a blizzard, with near-whiteout conditions. When I drive like that, with the view through the windshield just a stream of white streaks emanating from the middle, it was like flying through hyperspace.

Connie wore her contact lenses tonight. She's farsighted. The problem is, after she she's removed the first one, she can't see to remove the other one. Tonight I reached into my wife's eye and squeezed. It didn't feel like I'd gotten anything, but when my fingers came away, there was a big floppy contact lens between them. euwww. I think I'll stick to my hard lenses, thankyouverymuch.


Posted by Dave    Blog Tag: Chatter Comments