For those of you who don’t know me, I’ll do anything, well almost anything for a laugh. This last Halloween my wife and I were invited to a ballroom dancing Halloween extravaganza. Now I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in 20 years. So we feverishly went searching for costumes at the last moment. Something caught my eye! “The Hottie Scottie” costume. Now I am a huge fan of Braveheart, the movie. But the thought of buying a kilt actually began with the dare of my future daughter-in-law. Humor me with the false Scottish accent that follows.
Kelly, the lassie (no not the breed) was goin ta meet us for the furst tyme and she said she was goin to come as a punk rocka. So I says to me wife, we musta sho up in our kilts. Except we canna find no kilts, so the joke was off, no tha now. Lookily Kelly, the lassie, dunna sho up in no costoom. Beam me oop Scottie! I canna do it captoon, she’s gunna blow!
Okay enough of ancient silly Scottish speak. So after finding the “Hottie Scottie” outfit with the limp feather and sagging garter belts, it was time to go dancing. Instead of “River Dance” we learned the “Salsa.” Now do you know how goofy it looks to be a guy with a skirt doing the salsa? My feather was flying everywhere and my skirt twirling in the air. Now my wife could not keep a straight face and she is the better dancer. And yes, I had the proper American underwear on – and gray workout shorts just to be sure everything was covered!
Next year, if I get in a little better shape, I’ll take off the shirt and display my real hottie Scottie side…well, at least my Irish side – 1/16th of me. I’ll learn how to dip and flash or is that the “Racy Roman” outfit. I don’t remember.
“Now as you lie in your bed many years from now, would you trade all the days from this day to that for just one chance to tell your dance partner, you may be my wife, but you cannot have my man cave! Abra Cadabra!”
I was born in the wrong century. Maybe Diana Gabaldon can send me back in time.
