Monday, November 26, 2007
At midnight she turned into Gene Simmons
I yawned as we pulled out of the rink parking lot Saturday evening. B and I had just played hockey, changed into demure party clothes in the locker rooms, and were on our way to his company Christmas party at a swank golf club.
"Don't worry Sweetie, we don't have to stay long. We'll just make a little small talk to my bosses, compliment their spouses' outfits, eat dinner and get outta there by 9:30."
"I hate it when when I can't remember their names. When I give you that pained look, it's your signal to say, 'So-and-so, have you met my wife?'"
"Sure. Thanks for being a trooper, I realize my company party is an ordeal. You only meet these folks once a year, they'll talk shop, and you have to sit through speeches and the President's report on our yearly corporate profits. I promise we'll leave as soon as we decently can."
Later, at about 12:00:
That's me on the left.
As I sat down, sweating from my Kiss performance, B said: "O.K. Sweetie, it's really time to go home now."
Then the D.J. cued up the song "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy." I dragged B to the dance floor as his eyes rolled.
We closed down the party. Yippie Yi Yay.