Sunday, November 02, 2008

halloween treats

This year for Halloween, we again went to the Nutty Professor's to eat and drink and hand out candy. Rather, the menfolk sat out front and handed out candy, while the women, who have collectively had it about up to HERE with their respective husbands, sat hiding on the back patio bitching and drinking and chowing down on chili, meatballs, etc. Basically the opposite of what usually happens at coed parties.

Well, the Nutty Professor and I pretty much split a rather large bottle of wine. By that time it was curfew, and we moved all the food and booze over to the Norton's, kids in tow, and were joined by various other neighbors who weren't quite ready to call it quits on a Friday Halloween night.

I continued drinking fizzy drinks and downed a few of Ann's loaded jello shots. After a few of those, the talk among women turns to men and sex and penis size. Even a bunch of droopy 40-odd something year old women feel a little naughty talking about that, especially when their respective husbands are in the same room. Their ears perk up when they hear women boisterously yelling "penis!" across the room.

But sometimes the conversation needs a starter, which I'm pretty good at. So my first question to the assembled group of ladies was the Phillie they'd most like to boink. This, of course being the world champion FUCKING champions, according to Chase's most eloquent and loudly cheered speech.

Chase won the vote, of course, by cursing at his parade speech, which made him seem a little less stoic and a little more dirty. Cole Hamels came in second, largely due to the fact that he's cute and he won major points for marrying an older woman. Jayson Werth came in next because he's like a big huge mischevious puppy who might enjoy slamming you up against a wall. And rounding out the list was the old man, Jamie Moyer, who has the benefit of experience, and sometimes experience and knowledge outperform youth and stamina.

Well, we all had a nice time thinking of boinking our favorite Phillies. Then I posed another question: If you had to pick someone else's husband here to boink, who would it be? The crowd hushed. As if they'd never thought of it before.

Nutty Professor took a sad look around the large kitchen, where the men were assembled in various pockets of manly conversation and said, "I'd rather die. I'd rather die than have sex with anybody here." I didn't buy this at all.

"Surely, there must be SOMEONE else's husband you'd consider?" I pursued.

"No. No. I think I'd rather just die."

And so I followed up with the other ladies in the group, and nobody would admit to ever ever considering sleeping with someone else's husband. At least, not one of those in the kitchen.

Was this because that's not something you would admit in front of your neighbors? Or are the husbands such a motley, horrific group of men that one would rather die than sleep with them?

Yeah, pretty much.