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.