Cherryh A. Butler
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We stopped by the Ink tent at the Wizards game before the pool party Saturday. I ruled at Beer Pong. My plan was to loose the shorts in the car on the way to the party, turning my shirt into a trendy dress/cover-up
You know what they say. "You can take the girl out of Lawson, but you can't take Lawson out of the girl." I think it goes something like that.
My inner small-town girl showed up Saturday at the Ink pool party wearing a cute bikini with a little dress over it. My husband, David, wore an Ink shirt and floral trunks. He looks adorable in them, BTW.
We rolled in, gave our names and headed downstairs to the pool. Luckily, David peered through the glass doors before we went outside. NO ONE was wearing swimming suits. Instead, they were in dresses and shirts worthy of Blonde.
WTF? Were they serious? Yes, and although I thought they were a bunch of idiots for dressing up for a pool party, we were the ones who looked like the idiots. Oh, did I mention I was carrying a giant beach towel and had my hair in pig tails?
My first reaction was to confidently flaunt out to the pool rocking my outfit. David, on the other hand, is always the voice of reason and refused to budge in his $2 Old Navy flip flops.
After arguing for a few minutes, we escaped to the car and headed home to change. We showed up to the party "fashionably late," me in a black dress and David in dark jeans and a nice shirt. (I shook out the braids and ended up with wavy hair acceptable for a night out.)
We ended up having a great time and hit Blonde after the pool closed. We were dressed for it, so why not?
Best quote of the night: "What?! Did you think there were gonna be f**kin' cannon balls up in here?!?"
Thanks Rosburg!