This is funny

It was going to be another quiet night for me. It was almost 1 AM and I was spending some quality with French philospher, Foucault, when the Brazilian sent me a text message. She just got back into the country the day before and wanted to know if I was out that night. I replied in the negative but told her she could stop by after her party if she wanted. She said sure and told me she'd send a text message to warn me when she was close by so I could come down. I went back to reading, and waited for her text. As it came, I glanced around the apartment and realized I ought to have pulled the place together a bit. It was clean and neat enough, but fresh sheets might have been wise. I figured that'd have to wait till I let her in. So I went downstairs and she was nowhere to be found. She called as I was there and said the taxi had gone to wrong block and they would be back shortly. So I figured I had time to dash upstairs and change the sheets while this was happening. Ran up the stairs, cursing my landlord for rigging the doors so you had to come downstairs to let people in, changed the sheets and then dashed down again as I heard the buzzer going. I stepped out the door, laughed at her sparkly gear, gave her a hug and then turned around to realize that I'd just locked us out. Yes, I am idiot and I've got the certificate to prove it. It was near 1.30 in the morning and it was freezing out. My neighbours were going to love this. I started playing the buzzer game, starting with the apartments I actually knew the residents of and where I figured someone was most likely to be awake. As I did this and alternatively laughed and fretted with the Brazilian about our predicament, I looked her over. She was coming from a holiday office party with an eighties theme. The most striking aspect of her sparkly gear included a ridiculous off-shoulder, shiny striped shirt (like something she stole from the Fez and altered for effect); a short, blonde wig, huge Jackie O sunglasses and some garish shiny lipstick in a sinful shade of red. Being the liberated and worldy gentleman that I am, I was sporting a jalabiya. What's that you say? It's one of those long, flowing robes you've seen Arab men wearing. For pottering around the apartment and sleeping in, they can't be beat for comforts. Most evenings, if you come to my place after I'm all settled in, I'd be wearing one of those. As it was, the Brazilian and I stood outside looking like something Halloween left behind. The lady who finally let us in was someone I had never met before and as she opened the door to hear my explanation, the look on her face was so incredulous and beyond comprehension, I wish I'd had my camera for I surely would have won an award. The end