“Ethel! How are you, Ethel? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Hello, Fran. I know it’s been awhile. You see.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Fran. It’s all over town. You know, about you and Fred? People say that you two have been acting like teenagers.”

“Well, I’ve got to admit that things have picked up a bit.”

“I’ll say. When I saw how you two were acting at the Pearl Jam show, I thought the fire marshal was going to have to hose the both of you down. So tell me, Ethel, how can you get so excited about your husband? After all, you’ve been married for over 30 years to a guy who looks like Jabba The Hut on a good day. What’s your secret?”

“Simple, Fran. It’s tour dates.”

“Uh?”

“Tour dates. All it takes is a quick look at the routings for bands like Radiohead or the Eagles, and I get all tingly inside. Then, before I know it, I’m slappin’ skin with Fred. Like last night after I read about the revised Mariah Carey tour. I couldn’t keep my hands off of Fred. There’s something about the word `downsize’ that fits him so well.”

“Sounds sexy.”

“The last few weeks have been fantastic, Fran. And do you know what really makes it exciting?”

“What?”

“When we dress up.”

“Uh? Dress up?”

“Uh, uh. Like last week after I read the Fleetwood Mac itinerary. That’s when we dressed up as roadie and groupie.”

“Roadie and groupie?”

“Yeah. You should have seen Fred dressed in that mini skirt and wearing that blond wig. It was almost as much fun as when we dressed up as promoter and booking agent while browsing The Doors Of The 21st Century schedule. Or when we played security guard and the ticket scalper while reading the Dixie Chicks routing.”

“Wow! Tour dates did all that?”

“You better believe it, sister. Oh, look at the time. Gotta run, Fran. Fred and I have this big night planned with the dates for Joe Jackson Band, David Bowie and The White Stripes, and I still have to pick up the whipped cream and the duct tape.”

“Tell me, Ethel. Will tour dates work for me?”

“Tour dates will work for every woman, Fran. Trust me. There’s just something about those dates, cities and venues that gets a lady in the mood. That is, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I do, Ethel. I do. But what about my husband? He hasn’t exactly been much of a Casanova lately. Especially since he developed that allergy to Viagra. Will tour dates work for him as well?”

“Sorry, Fran. Tour dates are for ladies only. However, there is something that will help your husband.”

“What’s that, Ethel?”

“Read him a list of opening acts for a major headlining tour. Like The Hives opening for The Rolling Stones.”

“What? Opening acts? I don’t get it.”

“It’s simple, Fran. After all, why do you think they call them support bands?”

“Ohhh…”