Those of you who haven't paid attention to my picture on the blog page may not have noticed that both my hair and beard have gone from their natural color (which I realize now that I have forgotten) to gray, and thence to white. Having attained the stature (translate as sheer bulk) that I have achieved in my life, it begs the question about the opportunities to play Santa Claus at local stores at this time of the year.
While my appearance has made such possibilities obvious, I have managed to resist the temptation up to this point. I have been presented with one that may be beyond my capacity to resist in recent days however. It has been suggested that I would make a great Santa Claus at a Victoria's Secret store.
Now my knowledge of ladies undergarments, lingerie, or perfumes might be severely limited by the fact that I am neither a cross-dresser, nor gay; but the opportunity to have the typical shopper at Victoria's Secret sit on my lap before making their personal selections presents some interesting potential as a way to make extra cash during the Holiday season.
I'm sorry if this idea offends anyone, but at my age one should never discount any opportunity that involves young, attractive women sitting in your lap for any reason (no matter how small that lap seems to have become).
I don't know if the position is open, or even if it exists; but I have to admit that the possibility intrigues me. Being a red-blooded American male (though a rather senior one), I have therefore decided to stop trimming my beard until the facts of the situation can be ascertained.
(... for any of you reading this who happen to work for Les Wexner, you can let him know that I am available)
I will let you know what I discover.
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6 comments:
Tim you're not that old if you've still got the young hottie twinkle in your eye ;-)
Chad,
While I have always said that my goal in life was to go from immaturity to senility without noticing the transition, I am not fool enough to confuse youth with immaturity.
Wait a minute, what was I saying?
Tim,
Wouldn't this "gig" (letting a letcher have free range amongst attractive young ladies and their daintiest of dainties), be comparable to a fox guarding the hen house?
Bless your perverted little heart for trying though :-)))
Having retired my "Aqualung" coat and hat years ago, I actually worried briefly about being called a lecher, so I looked it up and discovered that it meant, "to live in debauchery". Then I needed to look up debauchery: "extreme indulgence in sensuality". That led of course to looking up sensuality: "devoted to or preoccupied with the senses or appetites" or "deficient in moral, spiritual, or intellectual interests".
OK you got me; but damn (pardon the language, but after all I am a lecher)that was a lot of work.
I had it in my sights, there was no danger, so I took the shot. - Top Gun
You are a gifted, if not somewhat twisted wordsmith. Although I have shopped in Victoria's Secret, I have never seen Santa there. If I ever do, I will look to see if it is you!
I shamefully deny the gifted part while equally shamefully accepting the twisted part.
Neither talent, real or imagined, has managed to get me the job interview for the position however. Incurable optimism and dogged determination are other qualities that I lay claim to (deserved or not), and I will therefore continue my quest for supplementary income in the holiday season.
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