Day of whine and Rose's new beau

Today's post is mainly a public service announcement stressing the dangers of imbibing and the resulting tragedy of beer goggle induced lust. Yes kiddies, as we age several of my generation make the mistake of thinking they can find love at the end of a beer bottle, or in this case, what must have been many, many beer bottles. I speak of none other than our beloved Rose. She was not the one that donned the beer goggles this past weekend, but fell victim to their treacherous ability to make otherwise normal rational and ugly people think they have managed to acquire the sexual attractiveness of Tom Cruise. To be fair, Rose did kind of ask for it, in that she was wearing a slinky outfit with all the provocative allure of a burqa. That together with dancing suggestively to the strains of 70's rock and roll (performed by the latest rock and roll sensations "Past 40") shaking her girlish booty with Sandy, Cindy and numerous other babes would be enough to make any man's testosterone boil. That is if they have any testosterone.
So it was inevitable when some poor soul, waiting until Mike had departed the area, hiked up his belt, drank the last drop of his 47th Bud Light, wiped his mouth on his baby blue wife beater and swagger-staggered over to Rose to pounce. Rose of course, politely declined the man's offer to clean her underwear with his tongue, and the jilted suitor made his way back to the bar, defeated but undaunted. When last seen he was proposing a menage a trois with one of the waitresses and a sea gull. When Mike returned, he took the news of his rivals advances surprisingly well. He just shrugged and told Rose "I get half of any "fee" you get."
Another high point this past weekend when we, being gluttons for punishment, went over to Rose and Mikes to have a cookout with them and the Bernardos the following day. As usual we covered a wide range of important topics in our discussions and found solutions to all the world's problems, well at least Rose did. Anyway, my wife has a pecular little malady that I had not been aware of these past 30 odd years. For some reason she blurts the names of random condiments at inexplicable times. Its true, I think it is some form or variation of Tourettes which I think she may have acquired at her job while spending way too much time with toddlers. I still love her disconcerting as this may be.
MUSTARD!

Love
Dad