A Night of Tango

Sometimes I wish I carried around some kind of voice-activated recording device, because some conversations are worth keeping for posterity.  For example, one of the nights I went tangoing last week was especially memorable, from start to finish.  Lucky for you, while I didn't record the conversations, I did take notes.  (Insert evil laugh here.)

As my sister and I were getting dressed, at home...

Me: Which should I wear, these earrings or this necklace?

Parisa: Why don't we decide after you put on makeup.

Me: I already did put on makeup.

Parisa, frowning and leaning in close: Are you sure?

Half an hour later, after Parisa did my makeup...

Me, examining the end result in the mirror: I look like the undead.

Parisa: But you look like a sexy undead.

At the dance...

Random old guy Tom, checking out my outfit: You're very colorful.

Me: Thank you.

ROG Tom: What do you do in life, to go with all that color?

Me: I'm a romance writer.

ROG Tom: Like Agatha Christie?

Me: Um...

At the end, sitting with my friend Lila...

Lila: Look at your poor feet!

Me, looking at them: ...

Lila: You need a pedicure.  Bad.

Me, sighing: ... 

In the car after a post-tango Voodoo Doughnuts run, with Parisa and Lila...

Parisa: That guy was totally macking on you.

Lila: He really liked Kate, and he was really cute.

Parisa: And really annoying.  Instead of asking for her number, he shoved his phone in her face and told her to type it in.

Lila: It worked.  He got her number.

Parisa: Humph. 

Five minutes later, after a long stretch of silence...

Me, sniffing myself: I smell like random men.