I’ve just come down to the den from getting cleaned up while Lex put the kids to bed. I figured, as long as I embarrassed myself in public, I might as well do it here, too.
You all know what a Renaissance Fair is, right? In case you don’t, it’s like a county fair with a few exceptions. The entertainers are dressed up as wandering minstrels and try to sing like minstrels did in the middle ages. Men, women, and children dress up in period costumes, wear all manner of wigs and make up, and party like it’s 1499. There is jousting, food cooked in kettles, home made ale and honey mead.
Once in awhile you see Star Trek aficionados who blame their costumes on some kind of worm hole they claim to have gone through. The food is okay, the costumes are eye-openers, and hand over eye closers when your child points to a codpiece and starts giggling.
The trouble started when I said I was thirsty and Lex pointed to a not too far off beverage vendor. They were selling mead. Just as we got there, the person who’d been selling the mead left and a very buxom woman took his place. She watched us walk up to their table; rather, she watched LEX walk up to the table and barely noticed the rest of us.
Okay, so I think that my wife is gorgeous and I agree with anyone who thinks she’s an eyeful. A “cleavage full” is a different story. How she could mistake Lex asking for a small cup of mead for “Can I stick my nose down your boobs,” is beyond me.
Did I mention that I’ m banned from ever attending this particular Renaissance Fair again? It was only a jousting lance. Could I help it if she was determined to wear it up her butt?