A Story – Joe Tripping Over My Bra
I was to join in a slumber party at the home of the funkmistress, but she was going to be late arriving. She’s well into her career track, bumping shoulders with high state and even federal muckety mucks on occassion. She was invited to a forum at which the Vice President would be speaking last Friday afternoon. We made plans to meet up at her house later in the evening.
The first text message I got from her read:
I got 5Th row cntr. next to jb ups driver.
The translation, as I later learned in full, is that she was 5th row, center stage in front of where Joe Biden (jb) would be speaking shortly. Sitting next to a man who had once been Joe’s UPS driver. No, really.
Finding it the only viable response drawn from a universe of possible responses to this disclosure, I texted her back:
Resist temptation to throw your bra onstage secret service is a bitch.
I did not know at the time (I had my suspicions) that reading this caused uproarious laughter on the part of the funk mistress. I also could not foresee that she would share this text message with Joe Biden’s UPS driver, who also would fall about laughing in his auditorium seat. She later recounted that they became sympatico at once. He revealed that he is now a teamsters president and gave a filched Jimmy Hoffa business card to the funkmistress as a memento of their meeting.
Well, Joe Biden took the stage, I’m told, along with a respectable representation from the cabinet, union representatives, the mayor of Philadelphia, and perhaps the governor of Pennsylvania, as well, although I’m not clear on that detail. They impressed the audience, who was able to put aside for decorum’s sake their laughter and high good times for the length of the presentation. My friend’s attention was engaged watching the group compromise, creatively strategize, stabilize constituencies and move away from rhetoric to thoughtfully examine real issues.
The speakers wrapped up, and Joe Biden began to move along the foot of the stage. It was an awkward setup, and he had to stretch out and over to reach the hands offered to him from his audience. Stretching down, blood pooled in his face which grew pinkish and then red against his white hair. As he leaned out just so to shake the hand of an admirer, looking as though he might topple over into the most embarrassing stage diving incident in national history, the funkmistress snapped his photo with her cell phone.
She then forwarded the image to me. The caption read simply:
Joe tripping over my bra.
There are 2 Comments to "A Story – Joe Tripping Over My Bra"
HA! I love that story. Told it to my mother a couple days later, she got a kick out of it too.
How do I get a funkmistress? Does yours have a sister?
lol nope. no sister. just me.