I’m about to offer hard evidence proving why I shouldn’t be allowed out in public without my children. It could also be known as….

Wally and I had a business banquet to attend on Saturday night. After you’ve been married as long as we have, business banquet translates into…

I’m realizing it is somewhat sad that a business banquet constitutes a hot date night for us, but there it is. Somehow I doubt Wally and me are alone in this.

The King and I are rarely sans children, so when it actually happens, I forget how an adult is to behave. It seems that instead of me keeping the kids in line while out in public, they are actually the reason I stay in line. Funny.

The evening started off innocent enough.

The King graciously suffered through fifteen minutes of me trying on my dress with two different sets of Spanxs and control top pantyhose. Nothing gets a man soft like watching his wife squish herself into various pairs of Spanxs.

But Wally diplomatically danced his way through telling me which of the Spanx/pantyhose combinations held in the hip and tummy jiggle the best.

Honestly, how many men can have that conversation with their wife and leave her not only not feeling fat, but feeling pretty darn sexy? He’s not just the King because I’m the Queen. His kingliness stands on its own.

On top of finding the right Spanxs/hose combo, I also had a good hair night.

Wheee!

Everything is still looking innocent and appropriate.

We leave for the office pre-party party (hey, Wally’s company knows how to have a good time) and that’s where things begin to go awry.

I was quite aware that the theme for the banquet was “The 80′s” and people were to dress in 80′s style.

Well, you know how I feel about rules. No? You don’t know how I feel? Read my quote of the moment and you’ll understand.

The 80′s were a very ugly time in my life. Very, very ugly. I have no wish to relive it, so I didn’t dress accordingly. There I stood, feeling all above the 1980′s in my very 2008 dress when Magnum PI walked in.

Suddenly I was transported back to my pre-pubescent and puberty days in the 80′s when I was very confused over the new feelings Magnum PI brought up in my body.

How did I deal with this crack in my facade of being sooo over the 80′s?

Shit people, how do I deal with any crack in my facade? Mr. Al Key Hall!

Utilizing that form of denial at this particular juncture may have been a mistake. While it may have continued my belief that I was soooo over the 80′s, it also lowered my inhibitions. Considering I don’t have many to start with….

Uh huh.

I remember there was some dancing.

Given that Mr. Al Key Hall is an unreliable dance partner, I remember some of that dancing being uncoordinated.

If I’m going to suffer through Spanks/pantyhose combo, I could have at least gotten a fake tan out of it.

I vaguely recall butt-bumping my husband’s boss and conversing with him about the length of nipples.

I’m so classy.

I also vaguely recall initiating a hug with my husband’s boss’ boss, aka president of the company; the appropriateness or inappropriateness of the hug I choose to not remember.

I recently wondered what happened to my ability to act like an idiot. Well, now we know what happened to it. Absolutely nothing. I still got it.

I also think I may have mentioned on my blog that I will tell anyone anything in the world with the help of Mr. Al Key Hall.

I carried on many, many conversations with all different sorts of people, including who had the hottest juicy butt at the banquet, gynecologist recommendations, episiotomies, and squirting various men in the eye with breast milk. And those are only the ones I can recall.

The DJ also played each and every one of my song request and I do not believe any of the credit is owed to my push up bra and low cut dress.

He probably was blinded by those fucking pantyhose and he would tell me whatever just to save his eyesight.

So after several glasses of wine, the boss man butt-bumping, talk of nipple yardage, cleavage for music, and possible inappropriate hugs, what did I have to lose?

Not my dignity!

I decided to approach Magnum PI. (Who is also my husband’s co-worker.)

People, learn from me.

This is what happens when you go out in public without children only three times a year. The probability of overcompensating due to a fun deficiency is very high and you tend to forget how to behave.

Please tell Wally he must take me out more than three times a year so we can avoid this in the future.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 25th, 2008 at 5:50 am and is filed under Immature Shallow Me, Marital Bon Mot. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.