Somewhere between the "How Well Do You Know Your Fiance?" game and the Hungarian's arrival, we had an [olive] oil spill and 1.5 head-to-wall collisions. Angie #2 downed a quart of vodka. Maggie spilled cranberry juice on her white pants. I stopped counting the number of Victoria's Secret bags when I got to 7.
The tanned, waxed Hungarian "Firefighter" got down to his spiderman thong. Personally, I preferred the clothes-on version. Or at least the non-defilement of superheros version. He provided the soundtrack. The rest of us provided the gawking. Eventually it wore off.
What do you do when nobody is interested in watching the stripper anymore? Ask him to leave? Offer him chips and salsa? Make the oil slick kitchen floor into a slip n' slide? We all slowly returned to our previous conversations and helped him gather up his dollar bills. Because it would've been totally degrading to make him get them himself.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Small world! Great job at the improv session tonight in the class at the U. It was fun to see your humor in person (in addition to the humor I enjoy by reading your blog). Say hi to Matt for me!
I stumbled across this blog a couple weeks ago. I thought to myself, "This girl is pretty funny. And she does things I like to do." And then today I read that someone else who reads your blog mention improv, and I realize that I KNOW you. Hey you- How's it going?
Jennifer: thank you for being our first/best/most awesomely smiley volunteer last night. Serendipitous, no?
Karine! The Karine Nelson?! Hello! (Unless you're not Karine Nelson, but another Karine I know, in which case...um...hi. Sorry I mistook you.)
Post a Comment