on the day in question, i did my make-up, my hair, put on the outfit and liked what i saw. only one thing was missing: a little holiday glow. i waltzed into the bathroom where mr. monkey was showering, spun off a jaunty little pirouette for him, dug out the sparkly lotion, shook it up and went to apply. except that the bastard had a dried up plug in the cap and when the plug finally went, so did approximately half the bottle all over my top. and my bottom. and the floor. and my shoes. i swore loudly, plentifully and bilingually. then i ran back to the bedroom to rustle up another party frock.
the runner-up still looked good, but it lacked the requisite
elastic waistband flowiness, and so i spent the evening wavering in and out of semi-consciousness from the pressure exerted on my innards by my industrial strength undergarments. the seafood was decent, the wine divine, overall, a nice night out for les monkeys.