Tales of the Attack Dressing (#2341)

This is one of those inside stories...So it might not be so funny if you didn't see it...

At dinner last night, I, the publisheR, sat around the table with my closest friends: dancing queen, bacon bit, skyscraper, secret agent, milo, and the climber.

Upon arrival at the "den," we all went into a flurry of activity, as the various courses were prepared for the table. Secret agent greeted us at the door, and the climber was a few paces back, putting on fresh clothes after a recent shower (at least that's what I was told. Sweet climber, you had just dressed yourself up all nice for us - cute shirt, cute pants - all ready to host some company. Skyscraper spun the salad (formerly a salad spinning virgin) while dancing queen chopped the veggies with a knife the size of Missouri, and about as sharp as my elbow. Secret agent made the final table settings and cut the homemade bread. The Climber poured the wine, made homemade balsamic salad dressing, and served the hunks of beef...what a guy, that climber.

What did I do, you ask? I made stupid jokes, tried to stay out of the way, and drank wine as fast as possible to get my groove going. And I ate a popcorn ball (well, tried to eat - I do NOT recommend this so-called delicacy) and made fun of a chocolate goodie called "smidgens". Sidetrack: I have never heard of a popcorn ball or smidgen before (neither had secret agent, so I don't feel so bad); if I had, I might not have tried it. But, being the curious publisheR that I am, I'll eat anything, especially if it's in ball form. (oops - that didn't come out right.) Anyway, apparently these unique things are a central PA thing. Bunch of weirdos.

We settled down for a quiet dinner to break a 2-lb loaf of bread, eat hunks of meat, and drink copious amounts of wine. The table was set, the food prepared, and we all held hands and said "grace" together. We clinked our glasses for a toast; the ambiance was accentuated as "put it in your mouth..." played as the background music. A fine dining experience had begun.

The climber was running around, tying up loose ends, while the rest of us began eating. As is usually the case, the host(s) are the last to sit & eat, this night was no different. The climber finally sat down, across from secret agent, and directly to the left of me. He reached for the salad dressing and the next few moments have become a blur - apparently, dancing queen didn't really screw on the cap too well. Ok, well, not at all. Thus, when the climber picked it up, and brought his balsamic concoction towards his salad, it, well, clipped the plate, tipped forward and spilled about a half-cup directly onto his crotch. My jaw dropped, and all at the table turned purple with laughter, except for me & the climber. For some reason, I was completely befuddled by this situation - the climber handled it so well - not yelling, not jumping up right away - I didn't know what to make of it. He just stared at the brown puddle in his lap as did I - I wanted to help clean it up and say one of the treacherous jokes that popped into my head - but I didn't want to throw a napkin on his package or try to dab and sop up some of the dressing up, lest he think I was trying to cop a feel. If the spill had happened anywhere but his crotch, I would have been the first one to dab, believe me. Instead, not knowing how to deal with this situation - wanting to help clean up, but not wanting to get frisky, the only thing I could do was to toss a napkin in the direction of the mess, and say "Oh, this is terribly awkward..." as I began to try and wipe up the floor where the brown mess had dripped down his leg and off the chair. Then the laughing began...and it didn't stop for a good 10 minutes or so. We laughed until we cried, the climber stripped in the kitchen and threw his balsamic-stained clothes into the side-loading washer, and we all ate dessert off of his naked body. (Ok, I made that last part up. We did body shots instead. Ok fine, he got dressed again and we ate cookies and cream ice cream out of bowls. The same bowls we ate bourguignon out of earlier in the night).