The pub had two large booths in the very back, divided by a dark wood partition below and a red velvet curtain above. We noticed quite a lot of frivolity coming from the other booth. Suddenly, the heads of three or four middle-aged Scottish women were thrust through the curtain.
“Are you from the States?” asked one, her hair dyed a metallic maroon.
“Can we come over for pictures?” asked another.
The women, who were pub-crawling in celebration of maroon-hair’s fiftieth birthday, swarmed over and crammed themselves into our booth. One woman sprawled across my lap (yes, there are pictures, but I, um, don’t have a scanner). When the riotous posing scene was over, one of the women asked me if I was wearing gray socks. They were competing in a scavenger hunt, she explained. My socks were blue.
Then the blonde looked at me and said, “We need a picture of a Willy.”
Joan, the school librarian, looked at her in wide-eyed innocence. “What’s a Willy?” she asked.
The blonde was incredulous. “Why, it’s a penis, of course,” she answered. “A man's penis.”
Joan’s look of shocked horror caused another round of hysterical laughter. Then the blonde returned to me.
“Do you think you could oblige us?” she asked, proffering her camera.
Never at a loss for words, I responded, “Well, do you have a wide-angle lens?”
My response brought more than the requisite amount of hooting and guffawing. I declined her request (although I confess I did consider it for a moment).
The birthday girl chimed in, “You men and your penises. You’re always tugging at them and adjusting your shorts. You don’t see us women walking around fondling our boobies.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
So she proceeded to demonstrate. Twice.
It didn't take long for a version of the story to leak out to the six, perfectly behaved young ladies in my care. "How could you?" they scolded me. "We only left you unchaperoned for one hour!"
Somehow, this shot from inside the tower of London seemed appropriate for this entry.
10 comments:
Pictures! We demand pictures!
that is funny, I need to go there.
No scanner, huh?
And we all thought you were having such a Macbeth-type deep and somber literary journey.
So much for culture.
Busted!
LOL! Oh, those bawdy Scots!
Paul, good job keeping willy in your pants. Generally, when we ladies ask such a question, we only want an answer. If you would have said yes, the mockery would have begun. (Behind your back of course, and not because of size, as surely you would need a wide angle lens.)
Having left school half-cocked and uncertain what to pull together for dinner, headed willy nilly over to the computer to see if the promised Girls Gone Wild entry was posted yet. Was not disappointed to read your uproarious tale about the phalanx of ribald matrons.
"How do you mean?" he asked innocently....
One can only imagine that scavenger hunt list:
Pub Coaster
Gray Sock
Penis Photo
Or to speculate upon meeting the other scavengers: "What's this snap of .... You were supposed to get a JEEP!"
It looks like this is the penultimate entry and I'm sad to see the series come to an end.
*debbi*
Hmmm. No scanner huh. Right.
Wide-angled lens? You are an incorrigible tease, making us unsusceptible ladies read what we thought was another chapter into your literary sojourn in Scotland and finding this and then having to fantasize!
(How's the lucky lady friend taking all this?)
What is really disturbing is that I could produce all of the things on lightyears2venus's list in about three minutes and without leaving my house. And that statement holds true for both sorts of Willy pictures.
This is how I roll.
And Paul, darling, where are you? I am exhausted and need a place to sit. I've got my hat!
purr.
Here's some info on Girls' Night Out Erin Style.
Somehow I think this type of adventure follows you everywhere you go!
:)
No scanner....uh huh!
Post a Comment