Friday, June 11, 2010

scheduled like in prison

10 AM. Crawl out of bed.
11 AM to 12:3o PM. Hair & make-up.
12:3o to 2 PM. Find something to eat, try desperately not to muss anything.
2:3o to 3:3o PM. Pre-prom with Luna's group of eccentricities.
3:3o to 4:3o PM. Pre-prom with Rose and Tucker's Round Table.
5 to 6:30 PM. Parade around the gym for the school pre-prom.
7:3o PM. Arrive at prom.
12:3o AM. Leave prom.
1:3o to 4:3o AM. Afterprom party and various shenanigans.
5 to 6 AM. Postprom Breakfast. At least two people will fall asleep at the table.
7 AM. Crash in convenient location.
4:3o PM. Depart for beach house.
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Thursday, June 10, 2010


It's sort of astonishing.
I tell my teachers I'll be missing one day of school, and they throw more information than I'd learn in law school at me.

I'm actually making tests up ahead of time. And papers. And presentations.

I cry nightly.

[photo from here.]

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vandalism as a public service

some things shouldn't be punishable by law.
like anything that can make passerby smile.

[picture from here.]
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Wednesday, June 9, 2010

stuck at prom

Prom is Friday. I literally have to devote all of it to getting ready.
Tomorrow is nails, waxing, tweezing, etc.
Friday kicks off with hair and make up appointment, followed by pre-pre-prom at Tucker's friend Rose's house, followed by the school pre-prom in the gym, followed by prom, followed by afterprom, followed by the after afterprom breakfast, followed by crashing at someone house, followed the after prom weekend trip to someone's beach or summer house.

In case you were wondering, the picture
is from Duck Brand duct tape's Stuck at Prom scholarship contest. The outfit has to be made entirely of duct tape and must be worn to prom. You win a boatload of cash for college scholarships. have to weather the indignity. And show the pictures to your children.
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Tuesday, June 8, 2010

flight 2.0


Floating like Luna.
Flighty like Luna.
This is a ridiculous pose.

But it'd be just like her to float out a window on a tangent.

[photo from here.]
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dignified worship: i has it.


I too have been known to writhe around at the ecstasy of hipster pictures to admire. But I like to think I'm more dignified when I do it.

[photo from here.]
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Shelled&armored, but poking that little head out.
I'm like the teeny turtle, with my social life in Luna's hands, she of the fashion plate and endless stream of relationships. see: wedding band and nail polish.
One day, I'll be one of those fat turtles you see by the side of the road on vacations. Too heavy to pick up and to stubborn to move.
For now, off to lunch. I'll feed and grow big & strong.

[photo from here.]
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Monday, June 7, 2010

The Afterprom


Prom 2.0: the Explicit Version.

The war. I won it. I should take a victory lap. I feel like I just killed a rabid panther with my bare hands. I felled an empire with a slingshot. I slayed a dragon with a toothpick. I can go to afterprom. Afterprom is the party following prom where people do things that could get them sentenced to an afterlife of the Hellish variety. Normally, some enterprising individual will rent out club space in the city and charge admission. Tickets are a certain price and said individual usually makes a killing.

This year, Betty Walker rented out the ballroom of a hotel. It’s gorgeous and tickets are $55 a pop. More for VIP tickets. Plus limo fees. It will be full of writhing bodies and sin and substance abuse. Part of the prom experience.

And I won the battle. I can go. We’ll go from prom, change into our afterprom dresses, and party it up. afterward we’ll crash in some hotel room Luna’s friend rented.

The battle with my parents was epic. They don’t know how bad it gets, or they’d never let me go. Still, I’ve promised to stay with Tucker AT ALL TIMES. I text them every time I change locations. I have the local police precinct on speed dial. They’re so naïve.

I’m feeling…optimistic. I can go out there, I can be that girl, I’ll be just like everyone else. Sometimes conformity is a comfort. It’s strange. Now that I fit in with people…now that I act like them, at least on the surface, they know who I am. I guess sheep don’t look the same to other sheep.

Tucker and I will dance and Luna and I will do the girl bathroom buddy thing. I’ll see Ashley with her soon-to-be-ex, James of the wandering ways, and I will tell her how gorgeous and kickass she looks. Tucker’s Round Table will be momentarily stunned, then hit me with a barrage of witty and vastly gratifying flattery. Ivan, from my English class, whom I’ve always had a soft spot for, will turn his attention away from his incomparable date for just a second when I walk by. I will see and be seen. And I’ll leave my thoughts here.

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Sunday, June 6, 2010

sunday afternoon whimsy


helpful hint:
those are rubber duckies.

a touch of whimsy for your idyllic, sunny Sunday afternoon.

[photo from here.]
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lock it down

Today was a good day. Tucker grilled in his backyard. His Round Table came over--his company of intellectual equals with dry senses of humor and witty one-liners. They sit around drinking sangria or PBR and making astute observations about pop culture and social interactions. They're quiet, low maintenance fun with snark and sass and self-awareness. And they regard my out of step comments as whimsy and off-kilter, not awkward.

Have I been wrong this whole time? Should I be looking for my own round table, instead of glam and scene and red cup parties? It smelled like the summers Kid Rock would sing about. The conversation was a little more high-brow, though.

[photo from here.]

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