Are we at the Sandbagger yet?
Shout out to all the junior class officers!
I mean, I don’t think anyone currently in high school is reading this right now – DK skews a little older than that, heh – but just in case: I feel your pain, young student governmentals. Having sold concessions at every geedee 9th, JV and Varsity football game all fall to raise the kizzash (at least that’s how it worked at my school), you are right now in the heat of heated discussions with your class sponsors and a fuckton of magazines (and, I suppose now, websites) like this one, in preparation for Your Most Awesomest Prom Ever, coming up this spring.
As I recall, my junior year, it was “City Lights,” and I’m pretty sure that was me more or less just bowling over everyone else on the committee. I mean, like it matters anyway, but that was the one I wanted, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be overruled in favor of something even dorkier like Starlight Paradise. We had our prom at Taco Jocko (a junior college on the edge of the Metroplex) -- site selected by Mrs. E, who would brook no nonsense on the subject -- and the after-party was at the Sandpiper Motel. (I’ll tell you more about that someday soon, kids – maybe during prom season. It’s a humdinger!)
Aaaanyhoo, I was very proud of my dress (a close-fitting black sequined sheath with an overlay of black fringe the same length as the dress – trust me, it was kewl), and since nobody went with a date unless you were in an established couple, I went with a fine group of broads who unsuccessfully tried to convince our limo driver to buy us booze. But the funny thing was, after all that aggro about backdrops and favors and napkins and shit, all I remember about the décor was that when we were setting up, my friend CK sliced her leg open with an X-acto knife trying to cut out the prefab “city skyline” piece. And it totally bled EVERYWHERE. And she had to wear a Band-Aid on it at the prom and you could totally see it through her pantyhose OH. MY. GAAAAAHD.
I mean, I don’t think anyone currently in high school is reading this right now – DK skews a little older than that, heh – but just in case: I feel your pain, young student governmentals. Having sold concessions at every geedee 9th, JV and Varsity football game all fall to raise the kizzash (at least that’s how it worked at my school), you are right now in the heat of heated discussions with your class sponsors and a fuckton of magazines (and, I suppose now, websites) like this one, in preparation for Your Most Awesomest Prom Ever, coming up this spring.
As I recall, my junior year, it was “City Lights,” and I’m pretty sure that was me more or less just bowling over everyone else on the committee. I mean, like it matters anyway, but that was the one I wanted, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be overruled in favor of something even dorkier like Starlight Paradise. We had our prom at Taco Jocko (a junior college on the edge of the Metroplex) -- site selected by Mrs. E, who would brook no nonsense on the subject -- and the after-party was at the Sandpiper Motel. (I’ll tell you more about that someday soon, kids – maybe during prom season. It’s a humdinger!)
Aaaanyhoo, I was very proud of my dress (a close-fitting black sequined sheath with an overlay of black fringe the same length as the dress – trust me, it was kewl), and since nobody went with a date unless you were in an established couple, I went with a fine group of broads who unsuccessfully tried to convince our limo driver to buy us booze. But the funny thing was, after all that aggro about backdrops and favors and napkins and shit, all I remember about the décor was that when we were setting up, my friend CK sliced her leg open with an X-acto knife trying to cut out the prefab “city skyline” piece. And it totally bled EVERYWHERE. And she had to wear a Band-Aid on it at the prom and you could totally see it through her pantyhose OH. MY. GAAAAAHD.
posted by Gleemonex at 1:34 PM
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