Ye Olde Boomer
Well-known member
After the most mindlessly boring winter and spring and early summer of our lives, my wife and I actually attended a small party Saturday night.
Our hostess hired a six-piece band to play for about ten people. That's how desperate she was for a little social fun.
We wore masks at first, but one can't eat or drink through a mask. Or sing. Or blow a horn.
My wife and I actually danced. I haven't danced with my wife--or anybody else--since our daughter's wedding about a million and a half years ago.
We ate, we drank, we laughed, we danced...a gaggle of geriatrics pretending that we all had a full complement of perfectly functioning organs.
The kids in the band looked terribly amused...they were getting AFM union scale, i.e., good money, for this hilarious outrage in somebody's smartly landscaped yard.
Just blow your horn, son. Bang those keys, sweetheart. You're all going to be here someday...if you're lucky.
Our hostess hired a six-piece band to play for about ten people. That's how desperate she was for a little social fun.
We wore masks at first, but one can't eat or drink through a mask. Or sing. Or blow a horn.
My wife and I actually danced. I haven't danced with my wife--or anybody else--since our daughter's wedding about a million and a half years ago.
We ate, we drank, we laughed, we danced...a gaggle of geriatrics pretending that we all had a full complement of perfectly functioning organs.
The kids in the band looked terribly amused...they were getting AFM union scale, i.e., good money, for this hilarious outrage in somebody's smartly landscaped yard.
Just blow your horn, son. Bang those keys, sweetheart. You're all going to be here someday...if you're lucky.
