I loved my hair so let me introduce you.
Reader, hair. Hair, reader.
My dress was terrible, sea-foam green, and caused a friend to uncontrollably blurt, "Wow, you look like a president's wife." So, alas, it did not get me laid.
It did, however, call up memories of that one urban legend where the girl goes to prom, and suddenly begins sweating and bending over at the waist and is having problems breathing, and her friend rushes her home, and the girl dies, and they autopsy the body only to find out that the girl had embalming fluid in her system, which, when she began to sweat, had seeped into her from her motherf-ing dress (!!) because the dress-shoppe owner had apparently bought the dress off an undertaker's assistant WHO HAD STOLEN IT OFF A DEAD GIRL! OH HELL NO! Except my problems breathing and bending over were mainly just because I bought my dress at a thrift shop and it was, I later realized, a bit too tight in the middle. So if I sat for too long, my breathing basically stopped. But I prefer to wax nostalgic about better embalming-laced prom-dress days of yore. *wistful sigh*
MY YO-YO-ING HUSBAND-TO-BE:
My favorite part of the prom was actually Steve Brown (who, coincidentally, I think is vegetarian, based on a brief conversation I stepped in on during a quick smoke, but that is just a sidenote, but an actually kind of COOL sidenote and a long sidenote that I keep making longer just because it's fun).
Steve Brown? Who's Steve Brown? you ask.
Well, Steve Brown is my Yo-Yo-ing Husband-to-Be. (Duh, I mean--have I not mentioned that fact like three times already? Get with it!) Steve Brown was ALSO the awesomest and dreamiest part of the prom. He bolted out in between bands and fucking HYPNOTIZED the audience with his mad yo-yo skillz. I mean, seriously, I have never been smitten with anyone sheerly for their yo-yo capabilities, but I wanted to marry him after seeing him rock out on the stage. (Sorry, Steve's wife!)
Hopefully someone will post his two performances on youtube at some point, but until then, check out these gems. None of them fully exhibits how extremely bad-ass he was on Saturday. But you can clearly see why he will one day soon be my husband. (Not like I'd ever REALLY do that, Steve's wife. Because I'm not that kind of woman. But you know what I mean. *COUcallmesteveGH*)