May 25, 2007:
Viva La Prom!
Prom’s this weekend, and I’m pretty much falling all over myself with joy.
After I have my coffee and suit up in my cleaning duds, I’ll take some pictures of the changes underway. This year, I actually have time to drink coffee! And sleep a little, too! I’m sure I’ll have to knock some things off my still-imposing to-do list, but most of the food is done, most of the beds are made, the gym has been artfully arranged to accommodate dining, dancing, and opium-den-style lounging on our newly slipcovered pits (those big foam cushions you land on when you let go at the top of the rope–one of the advantages of living in an old school is that you can climb the rope in the gym–not that I ever do). The buffets and tables are all dolled up with linen tablecloths that I actually ironed (ironing a total of 9 buffet-size linen tablecloths is not as glamorous or entertaining as you might think) and little centerpieces and disposable cameras with big DO NOT STEAL ME and TURN ON THE FLASH, DUMMY! (but more diplomatically phrased) signs on them. We got a little strobe light to go with the Asteroid light from last year. Sadly, the fog machine won’t go. Apparently, that is the way of cheap fog machines, alas. We have a real live pool table in the basement, refinished by Ron, and just leveled and felted this morning by the pool table guy. The bar’s all set up with beer tubs and cocktail umbrellas and some of the Etta Vendetta’s Eyeful Tower lovelies are coming down, dressed like teachers, to (wo)man the bar and door. Corsages are being fashioned. Ron and Robert, who has been working like a horse, are picking up the speakers. DJ Butcher Bear, unlike DJ Superwolf (the loser KC DJ we hired last year–who didn’t show or even call–and into whose face I still intend to throw a drink), is on his way even now.
And I just opened a box with 30 feet of gold fringe curtains and two dozen tissue fans and a ridiculous-looking crown for the Prom King! Whoo hoo!
Tomorrow we’ll do the streamers and balloons and oversized confetti. Giant confetti, do you hear me?! Giant confetti!
Lots of friends are coming from out of town, including Jason, who hasn’t yet seen the schools, and a fella from NPR’s Weekend America! It’s all terribly exciting.
And I just found out I’ll be teaching at the Sew & Quilt expo! I’m just thrilled. I have to thank the charming Miss Okey for turning me on to that.
In sadder news, I’ve fallen off Weight Watchers with the mad flurry of pre-prom activity, and can not fit into the dress I wanted to wear (my bridesmaid dress from Angele’s wedding). Well, technically, it fits (it does zip up), but it’s so tight it gives me alarming back fat. So unless I want to spend the whole night holding my shoulders up to my ears, I have to wear something else. I tried on 6 dresses last night, including my old junior prom dress (which almost fit, but it’s twice my age, so I didn’t want to force the issue) and a long, high-necked, long-sleeved red 60s Neiman Marcus chiffon number that, when it still fit, made me look like a haughty Old Money matron. I always intended to take portraits of myself in that dress with Kiki. I can’t even get my arms into it now. Maybe next year. I also tried a fantastic diagonally striped, floor length getup that looks like a 50s tribute to 30s Hollywood glamor. Technically fits, but I’m crammed into it like a sausage, so that destroys its elegance. Plus, I’d worry the buttons would fly off at any moment. I wish I had more aggressive undergarments, but I can’t even find my corset from Angele’s wedding, much less my assortment of various trusses and scaffolding from back when I got tarted up a lot more. I finally settled on a cute but often-worn 50s party dress that I can probably muster some cleavage in. Once I wore it with a corset and a pushup bra and Joey interrupted me to admit he wasn’t really listening to me and was only standing there to look down my dress. I know the men-talking-to-boobs thing is old hat and even annoying to most women; but it’s still an amusing novelty to me. I might change my mind at the last minute and wear another dress I’ve worn too many times, a little 60s thing with feathers along the bottom.
Okay, I’ve squandered enough toilet-scrubbing time contemplating my costume and congratulating myself on the decorations.
Viva la prom!
