“What do you want to do for your birthday?” Turner asked politely.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders.
“We’ll have a party,” JMac declared. (Which is a completely normal response from anyone, of course. Though if you knew J, you’d know that having a party is her response to everything. It’s your birthday? We’ll have a party. You broke your leg? Let’s have a Get Well party. You’re becoming Catholic? We’ll have a Foods of the Bible party. Having trouble with your manfriend? We’ll have a party to take your mind off of it. You did your laundry? Well done, let’s have a party.)
“We’ll have it at my house!” Turner chimed in.
Okay! So, party established, we decided that it needed a theme. Prom, we said. Better yet! Prom Revisited!, Prom 2.0!, would be our theme, complete with spiked punch, cat fights, and JMac even agreed that she’d give birth in the bathroom. Oh, and dresses. There would of course have to be dresses. Frilly, foofy, marshmallowy dresses that make you feel like a prom princess, when all you’re missing is the tiara. It was all coming full circle, we thought, as months ago, at another party, the DC gals and I had been talking about having a party where we would all dress up in former bridesmaid dresses just so we could finally get some use out of all those silly, frilly dresses that the various brides swore up and down we would be able to wear again, with the added bonus that “the dresses totally don’t even LOOK like bridesmaids dresses!”
As an aside to my friend Olivia – Hey Liv! Look, I actually DID wear the dress from your wedding again!
So this past Saturday evening, on the Ides of March, to be exact, we celebrated. We celebrated my birthday, and I also decided that we would celebrate this blog, and this party would double as the kick-off to a year of adventures, challenges, and mayhem. While it wasn’t a requirement to wear a former formal, it was highly encouraged. If it was prom-wear circa the 1980s, even better, extra points to you. Turner even went out and purchased a balloon bouquet so we could have a background for pictures, though she originally wanted to do a balloon arch.
“But then I thought maybe that was a little much,” she’d told me earlier. “And besides, it wouldn’t fit in my apartment.”
“Understandable,” I said. “Maybe for my 30th. I feel like a balloon arch should be saved for my 30th.”
Everybody Wang Chung Tonight
So, Interneters, here for your viewing pleasure, are a few photo highlights from The Party That Was. Or The Party That Kicked Off This, My 29th Year. Or Prom 2.0. Whichever you prefer. The dresses were amazing. The fun was outlandish. JMac and I even got into a fight and decided that we cannot room together at college next year, even though WE’VE BEEN PLANNING ON THAT SINCE SOPHOMORE YEAR AND WERE EVEN GOING TO HAVE MATCHING BEDSPREADS. She thinks she is soooooo cool and she still has not apologized, and our friendship? Is Over. And JMac, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me back my Sarah McLaughlin CD. Oh, and BTDubs? Jeremy P. doesn’t even like you. He’s only talking to you because he thinks you’re easy. He told me so. In study hall.
The morning after Prom, Scalzo woke up on my couch moaning about a throbbing headache. "I think someone spiked my Prom punch!" she wailed. I didn't say anything for a moment, remembering, and thanking God I didn't actually drink the Prom punch, and then piped up, "So, yeah, I was in charge of making the second batch of punch, and we didn't have enough Malibu, so I poured in some tequila that was sitting there, too." If Looks = Kill, Me = Dead. But only until the other night when JMac 'fessed up that she'd thrown some tequila into the first batch as well when no one was looking. So we're not at the top of Scalzo's hit list right now. No. Not at all.
JMac and I are THROUGH being friends. FINE. She can go off to Northern with her precious little roommate Scalzo and WHAT. EVER. I am soooo not speaking to her anymore.
Whatever it was, it was funny.