My almost most humiliating event ...

Mr. Potatohead and I have many things in common these days.
We both put many accessories on our heads in order to look OK. For those of you that do not know Mr. Potato head: he is a children's toy, a potato that comes with additions, such as sunglasses, ears, a hat, a moustache (no, we do not have this in common thankfully:) and others.

Mrs. Potatohead, on the other hand has Jennifer (a wig known by all of you readers really well), contact lenses, a hair band to hold Jenn and sunglasses for bright days. I stopped using the double-sided tape to hold the wig in place as I noticed that the sucker pulled out two pieces of my brand new baby hair. Can't afford this waste!

Anyway, Geoff, Jenn and I took the historical trip to midtown to welcome Geoff's friend Brian, back from Bangladesh. I have not met new people in bar setting since my treatment started, because I did not feel comfortable ... until last night! We took a cab to midtown, to the Russian Vodka Room and found Brian standing by the door contently sipping on his strawberry infused vodka after coming back from a country with prohibition on alcohol. The bar/restaurant was packed with yuppies and some older generation Russians insisting on cheering with everyone and poring down vodka like the name it came from - "VODA" - water.

After a short while the group of about 10 of us moved to the restaurant section and sat down at the corner booth. As Geoff pointed it out before, I always go for the seat with a best view and he is stuck staring at a wall - or put it more in a romantic context - ME :). Not intentionally, yet traditionally I picked the corner seat of the booth overlooking the whole restaurant with a dimmed view of two Russian women enjoying their borstch, and a group of loud I-brokers in their prim and proper ties and MBA suits.

Geoff, as customary sat opposite, while I was surrounded by Brian's friends, who had (hopefully) no clue about Jennifer. I do not know how many vodkas I tasted when I smelled something (no, not a body odor) ... it was more of a burning smell ... I looked around, but did not notice anything strange. A few seconds later I felt the stares of the 2 Russian women by the table next, as well as the curious eyes and noses of everyone else pointing towards the corner – me .... "Something is burning"... everyone kept repeating ...

And THEN I realized!
There was a candle at the corner of the booth, exactly where I was oh-so- comfortably leaning ... My mind's race for the solution pictured my yet-to-become most humiliating event, as the flames engulf Jennifer … I attempt to survive tearing her off my head to the great surprise of the boozed up audience ... then wishing the ground opened up under my feet I walk away with an awkward smile on my face ...
"I got you! Didn't I? You all thought I was a blond, right?"

Anyway ... it didn't happen! I quickly put my hands around my hair to shield Jennifer and checked Geoff's bewildered face expressions for clues to run or to sit still and pretended I was just one of those wondering where the burning smell was coming from ...
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A guy by another table burnt a piece of the napkin .... (I think)

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And this is how a historical event becomes hysterical … hysterically funny :)