Thursday, August 31, 2006

Miss Universe

She walked into the spare room to find him pulling out clothes from their dry cleaning bags.

"What in the world are you doing?" she demanded to know.

"Getting out my suit." he replied with his head still stuck in the cupboard.

"But these are our formal clothes. Hey...that's your wedding suit!" she exclaimed with realisation dawning on her slowly.

"Yup, I'm wearing it tonight!" he proudly proclaimed.

"But it's not your wedding!" she whined, slightly miffed that he gets to dress up while she stays at home in scruffy clothes. She's feeling a little bit like Cinderella having not been invited to the ball.

So the husband goes for the whole ensemble. 3/4 length jacket and pants, french cuffs, cufflinks, vest, the whole nine yards. He does look quite spiffy and for a split second, as he stood half in the shadows and the only light from the other room, he gave me quite a start. He looked like a combination of Lestat and Angel- all dark, skulking, dangerous and possibly deadly. Of course that's just for the half a second before he flashes what he thinks is his most winsome grin. Vampires don't grin, so I'm safe.

3 hours later, he returns. And not barehanded. In one hand are some shopping vouchers that he's won. In the other, a sash. My husband, in his full Angel/Lestat meets Keanu Reeves in the Matrix glory was crowned best dressed for the night. His first beauty pageant, sash and all. And should the winner not be able to carry out his duties, the first runner up will take his place.

And they named him too. Not Vlad the Impaler or anything cool like that. It was Packrat the Overdressed.

My husband, the beauty pageant winnner. Every girl's dream. :)

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Ondine tossed this thought in at 07:45

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