Insult to injury

In response to the wild praise for my last entry (by which I mean that I found myself really funny), here's a second installment. This conversation actually occurred only minutes after the last one, but they've been divided to maximize comedic value.

Me: Joe, it makes me sad that you'll be on call on Thanksgiving and then be all alone post-call. You should come eat with Nick and me since we're doing our big dinner on Friday.
Joe: Can you even imagine what a third wheel I'd be? I can just see you, dressed kinda like that*, and Nick in a red sweater vest...
Me: Um, Nick doesn't own a red sweater vest. He might leave me if I bought him one.
Joe: But I can just picture him in a red sweater vest, carving your turkey. And you're both sitting on opposite ends of a really long table, with candles in the middle.
Me: Well, we could always get a sippy cup and little squatty silverware for you.
Joe: But I don't own a sweater vest.
Maggie: Ha! And Beth wearing pearls. And can't you just see her Stepford hairdo?
Joe: (raucous laughter)
Me: Hmm, I was thinking about re-wearing this sweater for dinner, but now I'll have to reconsider.

I told Nick about this, and he's sent this warning to Joe. The next time they meet, he's gonna teach Joe a lesson for accusing him of owning a sweater vest.

*patent cream heels, khaki pencil skirt and belted blue ribbon-front cardigan. You know, the usual.