I'm over at Mrs. G's rifling through her extensive collection of secret boyfriends. Honestly, you can't invite me anywhere anymore.
If Mrs. G sent you...welcome! Pull up a chair and make yourself comfortable. I'd offer you something to eat but I really need to get to the store. I could serve you a couple of heels from a loaf of wheat bread and some questionable carrots but you should probably stick to the canned goods. And Jesus God whatever you do don't open that carton of orange juice!
If you're Mrs. G and are here to throw some haymakers at me, please...not the face.