I hope it's not chicken. Or ham. Is there going to be alcohol?

So last night we had to attend one of those fabulously boring dinners that go along with hubby's job. I was dreading it all week. Then I was dreading it all day. Dreading it when I talked to my friend on the phone, who's advice was to stop at a gas station and buy those tiny bottles of vodka to spike my drink with. Dreading it as I showered. Dreading it as I gave myself a mani & pedi. Dreading it as I picked out my hubby's and my evening attire (no, he can't do it himself. Bad idea, trust me on this one.) Dreading it as I curled my hair and applied makeup. And the whole time I'm giving myself the "ways I need to behave in public" speech in my head. You know, like don't call anyone asshat to their face. Smile and be gracious even if you hate the person. (this one is easier if you pretend you're a secret agent. Or a ninja and you don't want to blow your cover). No matter how stupid what they're saying is, smile and nod. Don't give them "the face". (Hubby & Lu say I make this face that says "you're a complete moron and I don't know why they let you live". I have no idea what face this is as I don't consciously make it.) Finally we head out the door.

As we drive the hour and fifteen minutes it takes to get to the place where the dinner is held, I pepper Hubby with relevant questions~

Me: Is there going to be alcohol there?

Him: Well, I think they finished building the bar in the hotel, so there will be alcohol somewhere.

Me: Yes, but can I go get a drink and bring it in?

Him: I guess so honey. I don't think it's against any rules. You are over 21.

Me: I know that. I just don't think it will help you professionally if everyone decides I'm a lush.

Him: No one thinks you're a lush. Everyone thinks your fun. And outgoing. And a little wild.

Me: A little wild? See, that means lush. Or stripper. I don't know, but I don't think it's flattering.

Then we get a text message from C. He's already there as he had to go early and set up some OA merchandise to sell. He took up four of the youth members with him.

C: You guys want to sit with the cool kids or do you have to sit somewhere else?

Me: We are the cool kids so wherever we sit is the cool table. But I don't think we have assigned seats.

C: Okay. How many chairs?

Me: Two.

Then I get a text from D, one of the youth members and a friend of our kids~

D: Pretend you're going to sit by M, and then say something smells and move.

Me: Why? That's really mean.

D: Because it will be funny!

Me: I'll think about it. (of course I won't do it. How rude!)

So finally we get there and I carefully traverse the parking lot clinging to Hubby's arm. Heels + ice = broken hiney. But I had to wear the heels because they're cute. And because the tattoo on my foot shows and it was my one concession to the real me, not the business dinner me. We get inside and start doing the meet & greet thing. Boring. Hubby points out the bar, but I don't want to be the first to carry in a drink so I decide to wait for K, my partner in crime at these things.

I go over to say "hi" to the youth members at their table of merchandise. I tell M that I was supposed to tell him he smells. He laughs and gives me a hug to prove he doesn't smell. I get the story of why Mutt is grounded. And I agree that I probably wouldn't have grounded my kids for the offense. He says it's because I'm cool. I don't disagree. Then D says that Mutt's mom is hott. Mutt blushes. D says that I, of course, am a 10, but Mutt's mom is definitely a 9. I roll my eyes. Then P says that he's been winking and shooting me kissy faces and I'm not responding. I tell him it's because nothing flirtatious registers for me unless it's coming from someone over 21. I try not to let him see how badly he's creeping me out. Seriously dude. Stop. I go find my hubby.

K is here!! We immediately head to the bar. We find some of the younger guys in there getting drinks but then they stand around a table. We order ours (god bless vodka) and before we can leave K's husband comes in. He's a couple of steps up the ladder from my husband, professionally. And he's a good guy, but more professionally concerned than my hubby. And without actually coming right out and saying it, he lets us know he'd prefer we stay here with our drinks. Okay, but you made me chug it. Not my fault. So I knock it back and then go back to the banquet room. I strike up a convo with one of the new girls they've just hired. She's twenty two, just graduated from college and landed this job. She's a little overwhelmed. And lonely because she had to move up there to work out of that office and she doesn't know anyone. She's actually from around here, in fact her sister went to school with my kids. And oddly enough, she dated Lu's DEBF during one of his and Lu's break-ups. Which I find hilarious. I already knew this because we actually met in the line for the midnight showing of the last Harry Potter movie. Small town, you know.

So then we sit down for dinner. And I am pleasantly surprised! It's not dry tasteless chicken. Or icky ham. It's pork loin in mushroom gravy, bacon cheddar mashed potatoes and seasoned corn. It's tasty for a change! Woo hoo. As we're eating, we're chatting. We are sitting at the table with C, who is the new OA advisor, having been a past chief himself, the four youth members who range from 20 to 17. And my husbands new supervisor S. Who I'm really beginning to like, as opposed to the Executive, who I avoid like the plague because I think he's an asshat. Dinner conversation is funny. They talk about Mutt's grounding and someone else who is always grounded. I say I grounded Lu once. It lasted five days. Grounding to me always seemed like I was punishing myself. I mean, sure your kid can't go anywhere or do anything, but neither can you. Because you're stuck being the warden to a cranky pissed off teenager.

Then I tell P to stop posting all his silly farmville stuff because it fills up my entire home feed on fb sometimes. I don't think you're super awesome because you got a virtual ribbon. Then we have to explain farmville to S, who offers to pay camp staff in "virtual dollars" since they like them so much.

Finally, the program part begins. This is the uber boring part, where I want to gouge out my eyes. Or be slightly tipsy. Or take a really long bathroom break. Like at the bar. They have bathrooms in there, right? They do a bunch of business stuff. Introduce people, yada yada yada. I sit there quietly, with a vacant smile on my face, writing this blog post in my head. P leans over and points to a guy in a suit a couple tables from us and whispers "do you think that's a toupee?". I try not to giggle and whisper back "yes, a really really bad one." Then it's time for them to introduce the guest speaker. He's an eagle scout from one of our camps, who served as chief of the OA lodge in the seventies and then went on to be the personal aide to president Bill Clinton. Holy crap, it's toupee guy. P & I share a raised eyebrow look. He's actually a really good speaker. Toots his own horn a bit, but hey small town boy made good so it's excusable. What I didn't find excusable was the slide show of pictures of him with various famous people. Like the Clintons, Bono, and the King of Spain. Dude, I get it. You hung out with famous peeps. Do we really need to see you cheesin while you shake their hands? Also, a lot of name dropping. Although I did enjoy the story about Ronald Reagan. He was an entertaining speaker, obviously he had lots of practice. But then it happens. I knew it would. I was waiting.

Invariably, when people speak at Boy Scout functions, they talk about how much they love helping the youth grow and change and become better individuals. And invariably, it comes out wrong. Like once the guest speaker was introducing someone else and he said "nobody loves little boys like him". Seriously, I almost had a heart attack trying not to laugh out loud. And the weird part? Almost no one else bats an eyelash. It's like me in a room full of stiffs. So I'm listening to his speech and he says "There's nothing so great as being able to touch young boys". My hand flew up to my mouth. I nearly spit water out my nose trying to stifle my giggle. I looked at C, who had his head down and his hand on his mouth. He looked at me from the corner of his eye and nearly lost it. I look around. No one else looks fazed. So I compose myself and fire off a text "Dude. He just said 'touch young boys'". I get back a couple of responses. But I wait to read them until after, for fear of giggling. Now, I do know that he meant touch their lives. Make a difference. But still, it just sounds wrong. After it's done, we get up to mingle again and E comes over to me~

E: so I saw you trying not to giggle. What was that about?

Me: You know what it was about! The thing that kills me is that no one else seems to notice.

E: they notice, they just don't think it's funny.

Me: I'm not sure they notice. Maybe everyone is zoned out. Or *shrug* maybe I'm just super immature. *and I walk away*

We congratulate the Silver Beaver award winners. This is the highest honor a volunteer can receive. It's for a lifetime of service to scouts. The honorees get a silver beaver medal which you wear around your neck. A framed certificate and a pin. The spouses get a rose. Seriously?? I mean these people (mostly men, but a few women) get to do all this volunteer work because their significant other picks up the slack elsewhere. Runs the household, ect. And all they get is a rose??

Me: I don't think it's fair that the wives only get a rose.

Hubby: Why?

Me: Um. Because the reason those guys have all that time to volunteer is because their wives supported their activities. They took up the household slack. They ran the show when he was off camping or whatever. I think they deserve more recognition than a rose. If you ever get the silver beaver...

Hubby: I can't get it. I'm a paid scouter. It's a volunteer award.

Me: Well, like when you retire. If you still do volunteer work and you get it, I want something more than a rose. I want a freakin diamond ring. I mean, I'm the woman behind the man. I make you awesome.

Hubby: *chuckles* yeah. Good luck with that.

But you notice he doesn't deny the whole "I make him awesome" comment. Because it's totally true. We mingled some more. I talked to wives I don't know. I talked to important people whose names I don't recall. I'm pretty much an expert mingler. I remind hubby how lucky he is to have me. Really, I'm such an asset. Finally we got to roll out of there. Whew. I think I'm good for a couple of months again.

♥Spot

PS- I'm going to Myrtle Beach for a week. Leaving Monday night. I will probably post tomorrow but I apologize in advance for next week. Don't know how much I'll post. =]