May 15, 2011

Semi-formal was....
Crumby Cannoli.
Plastic blue stars.
Sucked helium.
Bare feet.
And fist pumping.

It really was exactly as I would have expected, ribbon tied over the backs of every other chair, the bathroom so hot you felt as though the makeup you reapplied would simply melt off, and the music receiving whoops only if it was top 40.

I got there after picking up Hannie, at her house and taking many obligatory date pictures, and met up with Specs, Issy and Jordan.
Issy, naturally, looked gorgeous, and Jordan looked a tad like a Mormon with his short sleeved button down. Specs had gotten her hair and makeup done at a salon, so she looked nice in her fake lashes, as well.

We checked in with the teachers, who had dressed up as well? I didn't really understand why they couldn't have worn their normal, frumpy teacher gear until I saw the French teacher in the middle of the dance floor accidentally knocking kids down.

We set up at a table, and Issy, being the honorary grandma she is, had us immediately go to the back for pictures. You know, before the crowd. When we got there a women, whose eyes looked a lot like a cat without food, took our money. And by took, I imply a bit of grabbing and tugging. We had all thought that the pictures were 5 dollars. No, they're 5 per person in the photo.

I had brought a ton of extra money, which wasn't actually extra, so I was okay.
Throughout the night I took pictures with Issy, Hannie, Specs, Bernie, Lola and Kenzie.

Pictures, I'm alright at.
Dancing, however, isn't exactly my strong suit.

All week I had been telling people, 'No, I'm not gonna dance.' Which was true, and not a big deal, and then I found out at a dance, your kinda expected to dance. Like really get into it. And the last move I learned was the Carlton, what's a cat daddy?

They weren't playing my music, and though I obviously looked amazing, I'm not comfortable doing what I've already told people I'm not good at. So the moral of the cliche story, don't tell people your bad at or are not going  to do something you might be able to do or want to do. They'll get the wrong idea and then you won't be able to do it.

Lesson learned.

I 'danced' a bit with Lola, and the very last dance, which were crappy words about memories and friends set to Canon in D I danced with both Kenzie and Issy. Primarily Issy though, she cried. Seeing her cry is like seeing your mom cry. It's beyond scary, knowing that someone so strong has tear ducts.

Maybe people feel that way when I cry, oh that's right, I don't cry like a baby! Actually my mom said I had big balls for asking Kenzie to dance. Which I didn't understand, all we did was dance, she grabbed my butt a little, no biggie.
Butt seriously. Ahahah BUTT seriously. Yea, I told her, now it really feels like prom.

It was fun, I'll admit it. And the drama that followed was enticing.

It's over, now I just have to get through the awards, the summer, the next four years, the following four to six and I'm home free!

Wish you could have seen some of the outfits, and better, the shoes!

You know how interesting I find shoes...
that reminds me, does your mom wear Crocs?