Today my boss asked me if I want to meet the rich brother of a famous Italian scientist. I could tell by the look on his face that he was up to something.
Me: Why do you want me to meet him?
Boss: He’s in town for two weeks. I just thought maybe you would want to meet him.
Me: No thanks.
Boss: You might get invited to his luxurious Via Veneto Roma club party in a building that was home to the tsarist Russian Embassy. Each portion of the evening takes place in different room and there is a beautiful garden. He told me that they will dramatically bring out an 8 ft. platter that has a block of salt and a man in a uniform will hit it with a mallet and baked fish will pour out. Some of the richest people in Italy will be present.
Me: That sounds ridiculous. How many people will be there?
Boss: 30 or so. You wouldn’t have to do anything besides smile and elegantly walk in on an old guy’s arm.
Me: Are you assigning me a spy mission? If so, can I wear a wig?
Boss: No, it’s just a party.
Me: If this is a spy thing, I’m so in. When is it?
Boss: October 6th.
Me: Oh, but I will be at a wedding in Ireland that day.
Boss: With who?
Me: A boy. I don’t know him very well, but he is tall and British and he has pretty eyes. He could be a spy, too. And I like the way he says “monkey.” We will collaborate with the British!
Then I showed him the pretty eyes because I’m a girl and that’s what we do:
Boss: He does have nice eyes, doesn’t he? I bet you will collaborate.
Me: Yep, so let me know if you need two spies.
Boss: Are you going to tell him you signed him up for a make-believe spy mission?
Me: Yes. Will there be cigars and bourbon?
Boss: Yes, after dinner. Will he be into that?
Me: I don’t know, but I’m into that.
Boss: You’re an odd young lady.
Me: Thank you.
FIN.
Sounds fun to me and those are some mighty fine eyes.
Right? I thought so too.
big ass lol!
You really have the weirdest boss, L-Train (kidding!!!). But those are some mighty fine eyes, and I’m sure the person they belong to is mighty fine as well.
I’d offer my services to be arm candy for some rich old Italian guy, but he’d probably prefer someone a little younger and firmer.
Old Italians love the boobs, and yours are large, so you’re coming!
Good point. I’ve been around enough old Italian guys to know that most of them couldn’t pick my face out of a lineup, but they’d know me immediately from my chest. I’ll dust off my corset and be right with you.
Wait, did I miss out on a post where we all showed our boobs? How do you know Madame Weebles has big boobs? Good God, I hope you haven’t been spying on mine. Old Italian guys probably don’t like mosquito bites.
(I fear this comment might come back to haunt me someday…)
La La and I have, well, a special kind of relationship, Carrie.
Actually, everyone knows I have a big rack now, ever since I posted this: http://fearnoweebles.wordpress.com/2012/08/01/hey-nice-rack/
Loved that post. Thanks for the link. And it appears you’ve got more than you need, so perhaps you’d like to share?
Okay, now I’ve really crossed the comment point-of-no-return…
I’ve already spammed everyone I know, telling them about your comments, Carrie. Sorry about that. I’m thinking of making it my next post, too.
They’ll assume it’s just a spam for a breast enlarger and delete it. “We must, we must, we must increase our bust.” Please tell me I’m not the only one old enough to remember that.
You are not the only one. You and I might be the only two, however.
Yes I’m not so sure I know that one…
Whippersnapper.
I’m happy to share some of mine too. We will fix you up!
Excellent. And who cares if I end up looking like Frankenstein in the process…
No no I also do remember that we must we must we must b.s.! Didn’t work for me!
Oh, good. There is safety in numbers.
Rich… Parties… Arm Candy… Your Boss. Sounds pretty fun to me!
I’ve always wanted to be arm candy!
Please shoot some Irish whiskey for me!
You know I will!
Monkey hey? Get him to say Gibbon too
Aluminium will be after that just incase you are messing with me….
Oregano too!
I’m so excited!
Wasn’t that the Pointer Sisters?
As it turns out, I am about to lose control, and I may even just like it.
What happened to Napoleon for the Irish wedding? Were we all backing the wrong horse? I imagined him as a fun little Fonzie walking around inside with his sunglasses on, bumping into things, and saying “Aaay” a lot… I may have imagined that last bit all on my own.
You did, and that’s okay, because it’s a perfect visual. Did you want me to take him?
Great post. I had a great comment to go with it, but got sidetracked when all you women started talking about your boobs.
So, you like boobs then?
I’ve heard that can happen to a man.
Haha! I don’t know, but I’m into that…might be my new favorite line
I’m totally into that.
A man in a uniform with a mallet and an 8ft platter with a block of salt — girl, you better cancel that Ireland trip!
Haha, intriguing, no?
I wanna be Arm Candy! (I have no boobs…)
Baci,
Dawn
That’s okay, you’re blonde, so I think you’re good to go.
Worse, I’m a FAKE blonde. I really am Arm Candy. Cool!
Your boss makes me nervous. Just sayin’.
I’ve never had a boss who even remotely suggested that I should be arm candy for some foreign bigwig. So now I’m belatedly insulted. (Your boss isn’t running an escort service on the side, is he? Because it sounds like he might be a little bit confused about what your job actually is.)
I wish I had interesting conversations like this with anyone, let alone my boss.
PS- you won an award!
http://diaryofamadgayman.wordpress.com/2012/08/24/bitches-love-awards/
His eyes are like sapphires made of magic.