I'm Just Saying ... The Salmon-Colored Under Roos Incident

OK, call me a crass audience member or a crazy publisher, whatever reaction you might have to this blog post, either moniker is fine. I was at an event last night to introduce the new book Mr. Date Night by the fun and fabulously dead-pan Cary Farley. The man can tell the driest joke -- so dry that I have to run for water to actually get it and laugh. Anyway, as part of the event, they introduced a ballet dance troupe. I enjoy ballet -- it's all good. And then, oh, three quarters of the way through ... out come the gentlemen dressed in skimpy, 1950-style men's swimwear, bare chested and all muscular. Part of me might have found the lithe, supple muscular frames sexy, if it weren't for the now infamous salmon-colored "Under Roos," as the gal standing next to me called them. My eyes started watering as I tried to not laugh aloud as I leaned over and whispered in Malia's ear. Malia lost it and laughed so hard she snorted. Whoops! And then the moment of the show came when our Under-Roo-clad dancers, looking gayer than the Snow Queen, bumped chests! Yes, a firm, could-be-heard-from-the-back-of-the-room chest bump! All of them. In watching this spectacle, I began to realize that it looked awfully close to perhaps a salmon-colored orgy that might break out at any minute. Not that we had any question about these guys' sexual orientation (and for the record, I could care less anyway), but oh the Under Roo, chest bash just got me! The snickers could no longer be suppressed. I was leaning against the wall and had to turn my back toward it to keep the laughter in check. So for the record, if you're wearing salmon-colored "costumes" that amount to no more than your underwear on stage, and you dane to bump chests with your fellow man, don't be surprised if someone writes this type of blog! I'm just saying.