I met one of my colleagues from back east this year doing a quality review thing for work. He was hysterical. Short, red-headed Italian spitfire of a man with the mouth of a sailor and funny as could be. We still keep in touch periodically and are hoping we can go out together next year and bust chops together.
So today he pings me and says "I could really use a drink."
"Me too," I said. "Name your place, name your poison." Keep in mind he's back east.
"Vegas," he types, without hesitation.
"I can be there in a few hours," I said.
"Awesome! Think the hubby will mind?"
"Well . . . we can ask him when we get there - he's in Vegas right now."
(Here, he inserts a big smiley face)
"Bellagio," he suggests.
"I love the Bellagio," I said. "Just make sure when we see him you tell my husband its all above board. Or below board, I guess, if you like."
(He inserts another big smiley face)
Alas, reality set in . . .
If you see my husband in Vegas, tell him I'm home, alone.