As many of you know, PGirl's parallel sister, Princess is staying with us this weekend. He daughter and son have come along too and we're having a grand time.
Last night, PGirl hosted a "Body Shop" party for Princess. The only folks who showed up were Mr. Social, Mrs. Social and a gal from PGirl's place of work. I made feta garlic dip, bean dip and bruschetta. The ladies brought some wine home along with the groceries.
Mr. Social's daughter brought the kiddoe total to 5 and the two men were tasked with buying happy meals for shorty dinner. I figured that when we got back, the two of us would play with the kids and keep them away from the party. I was wrong.
Upon my return, I found the kids corraled into the back room.
In the living room, there were plastic basins filled with warm water. Five were ready for fresh feet, yet there were only 3 women who were there to be soaked. Princess doesn't count because she coordinates the whole affair. The extra basins were meant for myself and Mr. Social.
So, we did what any red-blooded, straight, American husbands would do to show our power over our wives.
We rolled up our jeans and took the plunge.
Mr. Social made a very good analogy. A Body Shop party is a lot like getting fleeced by a con-artist in the movies. The mark is led into a compromising situation where he is unclothed, tied up and ready to party. When it looks like the fun stuff is going to begin, the con takes the clothes and the guy's wallet and beats it out of there. The only differences are you lose your shoes here and you part with your money more willingly.
All kidding aside, it was pretty cool to get the foot treatment. After the lotion rub down, Mr. Social and I were sent from the room to watch the kids. I can only assume that this is the point in the evening where money changes hands.