The question of the day today was: does going to a Wellness Expo with a hangover make me well rounded or merely hypocritical?
It began last nite when I met some friends out to see that band again. (no free crap since the first CD. That ended rather quickly) Anyway, I was all set to go with my extra special party shirt from the Elton John store in Las Vegas. A lovely shade of green with the glittery phrase "the BITCH is back" emblased across the front. A nice conversation piece. A bit of a joke. And when you are not walking hand in hand with your friend of the opposite sex (as I was the last time I wore it) an apparent open invitation for excitable guys to stare at your chest. Must think about wardrobe choice in more detail next time.
I am floored --FLOORED -- by the number of people who did not get the joke. Seriously. "Why would you call yourself a bitch? You look like a nice person." Is this what the choices are when you reach your late 30's and are not married? Come on, its Elton John! I'm even more floored that NOBODY got my joke following the song "Crazy Bitch", a crowd favorite and I now know, the last song in the second set for this band every time. Sample lyrics from this song: "You're a crazy bitch but you f**k so good I'm on top of it". No lie. The set ends and I tell a table full of people: "You know, I don't think I understand that song, Crazy Bitch. Could somebody please explain its subtle nuances, because I think they are over my head." Nine blank faces stare back at me until somebody mumbles "Um, its about sex." Gee, thanks. I know I'm not Will Ferrell or anything, but I think I could have gotten at least one smile out of that one.
Most of all, I'm pretty sure I need to print up some rules of etiquitte, laminate them into handy reference cards, and hand them out to anyone expressing the slightest bit of interest in me.
Rule #1: On the dance floor, there shall be absolutely no genital to ass contact. I met you 20 minutes ago. I have no idea where your genitals have been. I know where my ass has been...over the toilet, most likely. I know there are at least 2 layers of denim and one layer of super thick white cotton granny panties between said body parts, but that's not enough. I need some actual air in between, as well. Its just common courtesy.
Rule #2: If, at the end of the night, you decide you are interested in me, please do not express your interest by shoving your tongue in my mouth. I like a good slip of the tongue as much as the next person, but again, usually from somebody I have know for more than 24 hours and certainly from somebody whose last name I know. Furthermore, I would hope that the somebody truly understands that the tongue has more nerve endings per square millimeter than any other part of the human body. Translation, it should have a bit more finesse than a floundering fish just pulled from the sea. And a please would be nice.
Rule #3: If you don not get cultural references to the year 1986, instant buzz off.
Rule #4: Thou shall not insult Van Halen in my presence.
Rule #5: Calling me "adorable" gets you no brownie points whatsoever. That's like calling Danny DeVito short. Duh.
I'm pretty sure if I actually did that, nobody would ask about the shirt. And it wouldn't be so much of a joke, but more of an irony.
I finally extricated myself from the groping hands, the too close crotches, the wayward tongues and the explicit lyrics and went to bed about 2 am. Only to remember as I was drifting off to sleep that I had promised to meet my coworker at the wellness expo at 9 am.
To my credit, I made it there early. To everyone else's detriment, I was cranky and snapped at aromatherapists and breast cancer survivors all day. And it briefly entered my mind that a holistic health expo may be a better place to meet guys, until I realized that 99% of the people there are women. And the men are henpecked husbands dragged along by their wives, gay, or of such a sensitive nature that my laminated card would cause a breakdown requiring several sessions of regression therapy.
Thank goodness tonite I'm doing something I know will not disappoint me. Cozy flannel sheets, here I come!