My preferred flavor at this time was still Red Sangria. I hadn't puked hard enough from it yet to be put off it. O those golden years.
32/40
So this is the next year, 1992, my senior year at Cowburg High School. This time, a group of us rented a room at the Sandbagger (not its real name), for years the unofficial official after-party venue just a few miles from the TacoJocko prom site. We used my friend D's mom's credit card, with her knowledge and permission; D was a junior, and her mom was kind of out of the loop on this sort of thing, so she was easier to cajole than, say, my own mom, whom NO ONE ever successfully managed to put ANYTHING over on (my mom is and was a fucking Ninja Master at ferreting out sneaky teenage ratfuckery).
ANyway. So we drove ourselves, like six to a car (as you did in those days), did all of our getting-ready at the Sandbagger, had a lovely prom, then went back to the motel for the mayhem. And my god, mayhem it was. There was pool furniture in the indoor pool, Funyuns ground into the carpet, Bud Light and Bartles & Jaymes bottles all over the fucking place, a mix of kids from our school still in promwear, changed into after-prom slutwear, already in pajamas, etc., and kids from all over the county who were invited to the after-party -- and not a person over 21 in the whole goddamn place. I can't imagine what the hotel booking office thought was going on -- our school did this every year. Nobody even called the police, that I'm aware of, which is the most amazing part of this whole stupid story. It was the funnest, except for I kept running into my ex-BF and his new GF and it made me sad so I just drank more (good plan!). Next morning was all about the Funyun cleanup, finding people's fancy prom undergarments (there were at least two lacy bras in the pool), fighting nausea and headaches, finding someplace besides your own room's trash cans to stash the empties, and trying to talk D down off the ledge of a freakout over her mom's Amex getting charged for the "damages" (Funyuns. Those fucking things are from the DEVIL.).
And but so here's me, antes de la fiesta. Woooooooooooo!
So this is the next year, 1992, my senior year at Cowburg High School. This time, a group of us rented a room at the Sandbagger (not its real name), for years the unofficial official after-party venue just a few miles from the TacoJocko prom site. We used my friend D's mom's credit card, with her knowledge and permission; D was a junior, and her mom was kind of out of the loop on this sort of thing, so she was easier to cajole than, say, my own mom, whom NO ONE ever successfully managed to put ANYTHING over on (my mom is and was a fucking Ninja Master at ferreting out sneaky teenage ratfuckery).
ANyway. So we drove ourselves, like six to a car (as you did in those days), did all of our getting-ready at the Sandbagger, had a lovely prom, then went back to the motel for the mayhem. And my god, mayhem it was. There was pool furniture in the indoor pool, Funyuns ground into the carpet, Bud Light and Bartles & Jaymes bottles all over the fucking place, a mix of kids from our school still in promwear, changed into after-prom slutwear, already in pajamas, etc., and kids from all over the county who were invited to the after-party -- and not a person over 21 in the whole goddamn place. I can't imagine what the hotel booking office thought was going on -- our school did this every year. Nobody even called the police, that I'm aware of, which is the most amazing part of this whole stupid story. It was the funnest, except for I kept running into my ex-BF and his new GF and it made me sad so I just drank more (good plan!). Next morning was all about the Funyun cleanup, finding people's fancy prom undergarments (there were at least two lacy bras in the pool), fighting nausea and headaches, finding someplace besides your own room's trash cans to stash the empties, and trying to talk D down off the ledge of a freakout over her mom's Amex getting charged for the "damages" (Funyuns. Those fucking things are from the DEVIL.).
And but so here's me, antes de la fiesta. Woooooooooooo!
Labels: 40/40, booze makes things better, cryin' amazacrazy, fuckyeahbeingagrownup, that's what your mom said, things that are great
posted by Gleemonex at 12:20 PM
1 Comments:
You continue to have the greatest dresses! You look like you may be in a cinematic murder motel here (as we all were at that age). I never got to do the motel after-party thing in high school and was super pissed.
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