Making the Bunnies Laugh

I imagine there are a lot of guys like me, who consider themselves witty and, therefore, like to try to make people laugh. Some of us are pretty good at it, others of us really need to stick to the day job.

Despite where I'd like to believe I am in that crowd, I'm probably somewhere in the middle, toward the lower end.

But I have my moments.

In New Orleans last week, in conjunction with the client's convention meeting, there was a huge exposition hall stuffed to the gills with cars, gadgets for cars, gadgets for dealerships and garages and lending companies, gadgets for gadget distributors… you name it: if it was designed for use in, on, about or around cars or car dealerships, it was probably there.

One notion some of this particular client's exhibitors can't seem to shed is that it is an all male industry. So, in accordance with that ignorant belief, some of them continue to staff their booths with relatively scantily clad female model types. Don't get me wrong... I like the scantily clad model types, but they're hardly appropriate anymore for an increasingly "co-ed" industry.

One booth I passed by many times had arranged to have recent Playboy® Centerfold™ models on hand to sign autographs on their photos (fully dressed) for anybody who wanted one (a photo). Naturally, I, being single and relatively horny, naturally I made my way over there. At that particular time of the day, the 'Playboy® booth' was staffed by two women — twins — who had been featured in the December 2008 issue of the magazine.

While I stood there gawking because — despite the fact that they actually looked and sounded a little 'white trash' — these were real, live Playboy® Playmates™ who, at some point in the past, had actually been naked, and though they were dressed fairly conservatively in long, fluffy dresses with school-marm-ish heels, their cleavage was on display, my mind was racing to figure out some way to talk to them. …the girls, not their cleavage….

I looked down and noticed the big betacam that was dangling at the end of my right arm. Holy SHIT! I'm working! PERFECT!!

So, knowing full well that our client contact who is in charge of approving the video would never allow two cleavage-forward white-trash bimbos to jiggle their way into her highlights video and, further, knowing that, despite my apparently wasted effort, the editors would appreciate a brief little eye massage, I hoisted the camera up onto my shoulder and instructed the young ladies to wait for my cue and then to look at the camera and smile when I said so (that being my cue).

I put my eye to the viewfinder, and then I stopped as an idea hit me. I pulled my eye away from the viewfinder and looked at the two young beauties sitting there waiting for me to do my thing.

And I smiled at them and said, "But keep your clothes on."

And they laughed!

With the possible exception of a wild night of debauched threesome action with twenty-something twin sisters, nothing warms the heart of a divorced, 40s, bald, fat man more than the lilting laughter of two nymphs giggling at his jokes.

About two hours and about eight miles of convention center walking later, I returned to the booth where the twins still sat signing autographs. Producer was in tow this time, and his eyes read shock and pleasure alternately as he took in their shapely forms. We chatted briefly with one of the guys running the booth who has a real job related to the auto industry. And then I got another idea.

There was a momentary lull in the autograph seekers, so I sauntered over to the two young women and asked, "Do you have a copy of the magazine issue you appeared in?"

One of them said, somewhat apologetically, "No."

And then, almost as if we had rehearsed it, Producer said, "Why? You want them to sign the magazine?"

"No," I replied. "I just want to see what they look like nak—" I darted my eyes to the girls in mock alarm, and then I darted them all over as I "lied." "Um, er, ah …articles… I wanted to ch-check out the articles!"

And they laughed!

Yup. I have my moments.



°