Holy Smokes!

My hair caught on fire last night. Yeah, there's one for the books, eh?

A friend and I were crashing a work-related party. The venue was quite lovely, once we found it - brick walls, tall windows, candles everywhere. And an open bar - yay!

Upon arrival, we discussed our priorities. Hers were drink, food, guy. Mine were drink, guy, food. Having agreed that drink was first in either scenario, we picked up a couple, grabbed some food and wandered around until we found a quiet table to people-watch from. The table was bar-height and had a candelabra in the center of it with the lowest candle being, well, at just about the 5-foot mark. I know this because I measured it with my hair.

We'd just spotted Sienfeld-cum-Jesus in the crowd when the guest speaker got up to officially open the event. Now, I don't want to say "snooze," but the only word I actually remember him saying was "robot." Everything after that was pretty much a blur until my friend reached up, gently patted my head, and whispered, "Your hair was on fire."

Now, she speaks with an Irish accent so I was nearly certain I'd misunderstood her. Then she started to laugh. Then I smelled the acrid odor of burned hair. Then I started to laugh. Then we laughed until we cried.

The speech continued for 20 minutes, and I'm fairly certain that we laughed for all of it. And I'm equally certain that the guest speaker (a VP, no less) thought we were laughing at him. How not to get promoted, if you care about such things. Clearly I do not or I would not go around catching my hair on fire during VP-given speeches.

I'm so glad I wasn't wearing hairspray...