�You�re sure shivering MY timbers.�

�I�d like to walk YOUR plank.�

�Can I steal away with all your booty?�

�When we get home, I�m going to rape and pillage you.�

All of the above comments were accompanied by rapidly raised and lowered eyebrows, a la Groucho. I couldn�t help it � it was such a bizarre night. I was filling in at the event for my boss, who had to go to a funeral, and lucky Beaker got back from a fishing mission just in time to be my date.

I knew he wouldn�t be down with the dressing as a pirate, but I was, and borrowed boss�s wife�s wench outfit. PLASTIC wench outfit. REALLY plastic � even the little puffy sleeves were made of vinyl. I thought it was a winner when I put it on, then I looked in the mirror and realized half of my ass (sorry, booty) was visible.

So I put together a Stevie-Nicks inspired pirate outfit, all corsets and flowy skirts and a scarf on my head.

Beaker fretted that I would be the only one dressed up, going as far as suggesting that we sneak in the back way and make sure I don�t need to go home and change. I just laughed � his job doesn�t force him to run in these cheesy circles, and he didn�t understand.

As we were walking up, he saw others approaching the venue with striped scarves on their heads, and stuffed parrots on their shoulders. He then freaked out at the idea of being the only person NOT dressed as a pirate. (Which would have made him the smartest-looking person in the room, so what�s up, Beaker?) Now, I was reassuring him by pointing out the other nice-pants-and-shirt wearing men.

Boys can be so insecure.

Considering all the weirdness, we had fun. Beaker�s mom works at the restaurant upstairs, so we stole away to say hello to her. To her credit, she didn�t even double take at my get-up, but as I walked across the balcony, I could see all the other diners sneaking glances out of the corners of their eyes, taking a peek at the crazy lady dressed like a pirate.

When they swore in the Board of Directors, instead of raising their hands and saying, �I will,� they all shook their fists and said, �Arr!� That was fun.

In totally other news, if you�re looking for the perfect way to cap off your night of drinking, dancing, and bar-hopping, might I suggest making friends with someone who owns a hair salon?

Shawn and I and Hair Friend� oh, let�s call him Harry, took over his small business a few weeks ago, at about 3 a.m. We spent several fun hours in smocks, shampooing and deep conditioning and we both even got our ends trimmed. Harry, for some reason, keeps a stash of chocolate body paint and stencils, so that was fun for a while, too.

Shawn and I woke up the next morning the proud owners of two new leopard-print towels and a leopard-print bath rug.

We�re making plans to drop that tacky shit back off, under the cover of night, of course.