Adventures Of An 80yr Old Boob

I was halfway through a post earlier today when I hit 'Save' and figured the world could hold on just a little longer to hear my views on this whole Syrian revolution and Iranian nuclear crisis.

I had to rush off to a meeting with an 80year old client whom I've been servicing for about 5 years now.
Wait. Let me rephrase that!
I've been the contractor to all of her commercial properties; her Go-To guy if you must.

Today was supposed to be a quick in-and-out. Any meeting that lasts less than 30 minutes is a quickie. I've had meetings that lasted longer than some marriages. Well, in this day and age that doesn't really say much about the length of the meetings, but you get what I'm trying to say.

So anyways, there I was with said client, when she decides to lean sideways in her summery flimsy teenage dress (did I mention she's about 80?) and the thin strippy thingy that's supposed to hold her dress up on her shoulders decides to slide off.
Out pops this wrinkly old boob and glares at me like an angry baby crocodile who hasn't been fed for weeks!
Like that's my fault!

Her little poodle goes batshit crazy (and NO! That's NOT a sexual innuendo!) and starts yapping at me like I just exposed her masters boob.

Now normally I'm pretty good at maintaining composure, but I've never been accosted by an angry poodle or an angrier wrinkled boob before, so I did the polite thing since that's the way I was brought up, and I vomited all over her carpet (and NO! Thats NOT a sexual innuendo!)
Ok no seriously, I gagged but stopped short of vomiting.

She just looked at me, popped that bad boy back into it's cave, said "Oops" and gave me this grin that reminded me of Darth Vader for some reason. She even sounded a bit like him.

Anyways, just thought I'd throw my afternoon sojourn with an 80yr old boob out there in the hope that I'll sleep better tonight.

Now back to my piece on the Syrians and Iranians and world peace.