No more expensive comedy clubs for me, I'm going car shopping instead....

Unfortunately, and not by my own doing, I have been propelled into an unknown and very strange place, a third dimension known as the car dealership. Accompanied by my better half instead of the more appropriate professionals of the MenInBlack, we ventured into a very odd part of culture we had not experienced in years. In one dealership, the salesman jumped up and down and walked back and forth to "speak to his manager" so many times that he burned the equivalent of a spin class. My husband believed he was negotiating on our behalf. I, on the other hand, knew the real truth, and that was that he was a fellow sufferer of inflammatory bowel disease and had tied one on the night before, and from my experience and astute analysis, probably in a Mexican restaurant. (I was tempted to offer him some of my anti diarrhea medicine,  but my husband would have none of that.) I'm almost certain that when we left he was wearing different pants. At our next stop, we were there before closing time, and definitely after the start of happy hour. We had loads of fun with that happy fellow, who with geriatric sunglasses glued to his face, proceeded to give us the keys to every car in the lot without once asking for an i.d. or even a name. I asked my husband if he thought the guy could be having some kind of insulin reaction and he looked at me like I was nuts.  Then there was the guy who had a very bad case of nystagmus. I spent so much effort trying not to look at him that I walked into a giant cardboard zero percent financing sign. He asked if he could drive me back to my car and I broke out into a cold sweat. I have finally gotten my new car, but I think I might still go car shopping. Just for fun...