You Can Dress Us Up...

And you can take us out.

But do so at your own risk.

Our masochist friends Jim and Lisa, for whatever reason, continue to ask us to go places with them. And because we'll go just about anywhere if it means a drink or a laugh, including crashing a stranger's bris, we usually accept.

Poor things. They should know better by now.

Recently they had two extra tickets to a black tie five-course meal and wine-tasting silent auction. Who did they foolishly call on to relieve these motherless tickets of their abandoned state? Yep. Riff and Raff.

So Jim (my Jim) and I spontaneously throw on our formal wear, which had not been dry cleaned since our last formal event (my dress still had a little sauce on it that looked like bird poop), and accompanied these tasteful and dignified people to their table. Where the other Jim's parents were also seated. And my neighbors. And town councilman.

I'm fine with the first glass of champagne, even better with the first vodka tonic. Second vodka tonic, still good - getting a little chatty.

Then the wine starts flowing.

First course - "Yum!"

Second course - "Hahahahahahaha!!!"

Third course - "Hey, Honey! Take a picture with me and my councilman!"

Fourth course - "Are you going to eat that???"

Fifth course - "I bid on the tacky-ass shrimpboat art!!"

After-dinner drink - "I'm not wearing panties! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

And then I reimburse the other Jim for joint baby-sitting with a check that says, "Ho Money" written on the 'for' line. Good times.

Last weekend, Jim and Lisa interestingly enough invited us to eat dinner with them and then go see a play. We arrive at the restaurant, which is crowded, so we're seated at a long table with two other couples we don't know - er, victims we don't know.

We say hello. They say hello. We then ignore each other for the rest of the time.

Well, we ignore them.

We look at the beer menu. We order beer. And more beer. And then we eat. And laugh. And tell stories. And drink more beer.

Other Jim: "Lisa and I watched 'The Wall' the other night. That is some weird sh*t!"

See? We're already a bad influence on them.

Lisa: "Yeah. Is it supposed to MEAN something? We just laughed our asses off."

Me: "All I remember is some guy shaving his nipples."

My Jim (in very loud Jamaican accent) : "Pleeeeese don't shave me nipples, mon."

Me: "Hey, Jim? Use your napkin. It looks like you've got a little money shot on your face."

Lisa: "My son now knows the gesture for 'doing it' (proceeds to stick finger through hole made by thumb and forefinger of opposite hand). He calls it 'it'."

Me: "How funny! I love 'it'!"

Other Jim: "Cheers! Here's to 'it'!"

We clink our beer mugs and then make 'it' gestures.

My Jim: "Wow - look at that HUGE bottle of beer on the other table. It looks like a wine bottle! What's in that thing? Excuse me - I know you don't know me, but what are you drinking? Sure, I'd LOVE to taste it!"

Me: "Oh, sh*t! We've got to go if we're going to make it by curtain!"

Other Jim: "Will they let us in if we're late? Do you think they will? Will they let us in? Will they?"

Me: "Yes. Now drink your beer. And give me what you don't eat."

People next to us: Silent. Staring.

We resume with the 'it' gestures and laugh like maniacs.

Other Jim: "Excuse me! We have to catch a curtain call. May we have our check?"

Me: "But don't take any plates yet. Still working 'em."

People next to us: Smiling politely. Aghast.

My Jim: "Hey! That sh*t's good! Wish we had time for our own bottle..."

Fortunately for others, we didn't.

You would think it was all the alcohol, but sadly, it's just us. The next day at a church basketball game, I sat with Lisa and the other Jim as we watched our daughters cheer. A teenage couple near us was getting all lovey-dovey.

Lisa: "Hey - what's up with THAT at a church basketball game???"

Me: "It is Valentine's Day. 'Young Tuuuurks! Be freeeeeeeee! Toniiiiiiiight!'"

Other people: Glare.

Oh, come on people - like you don't like 'it' (gesture).