Welcome to hell: we eat glitter and flip the bird to the King of Pop.

Ah, high school. There are few things I find more pointless than formal dances, water features being one of them. And I can only lip off so much before I overshoot my knowledge. But despite managing to graduate without ever having attended, I did go to my junior prom. It was at the local Masonic Lodge. And it was magical. I learned two things that night: 1) breast-fed babies have better teeth, and 2) AquaNet for life. (Coming from the theater kid who only ever used it to stop runs in my nylons. Shut up, it holds what??) I went with a group of friends and we didn't really know anybody, as evidenced by the kid who asked if we were at the right prom? There's another one two floors up. 

Then partway through the evening my date went on a curious quest to find a real live Mason and ask if they perform human sacrifices. He did. And they don't.

Anyway.

Last weekend, I went back. Because isn't that just what I needed, a reminder of all the reasons why I chose to skip high school. Except my parents never made me pass a cool breathalyzer test. Dang. 

I didn't want to be there, but a deal's a deal. The story goes like this: I shot a wedding, at which my baby sister spent 6 hours running a second camera. (More on that later.) In return, I attended her would-be senior prom to take yearbook pictures. It's been a much-talked-about topic of discussion that she refused to actually GO to the prom itself. We offered up our friends, even our boyfriends, but she says prom is stupid. Apparently she found out some guy was gonna ask her so she told her friends to dissuade him, only by the time they got around to it, he already had the flowers waiting in his car and now she's that girl who rejected the poor bastard and cost him $20, all in one day. 

At least it wasn't $200. Not like all the other suckers, and look what they ended up with? The dinner bill and a glitter hangover.

Standing there, I realized I've yet another reason to label myself old and crotchety for my opinion that boys must not know how to find a girls waist and for the love of God, SOMEBODY GO HELP THEM OUT! Then Thriller came on and everybody cheered, sparking a would-be redemptive moment until they all turned and walked off the dance floor. It took incredible will power not to pipe up with something along the lines of THAT'S RIGHT, TAKE A BREATHER. I MEAN, YOU ARE SO RIGHT, THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST EXPERIENCES YOU WILL EVER HAVE IN LIFE. AND P.S., YOU WILL TOTALLY WEAR THAT DRESS AGAIN.

And then I jumped onstage and performed a stellar cover of "What a Feeling" from Flashdance. In my pointy bra.

Enough about that.

Saturday, in all it's sunny Spring glory, was the wedding of an old CYT friend and fellow teacher. She'd asked me to take pictures back before I swore it off (and we all know who to thank for that), so I was locked in. That said, it went ten times better than I thought it would. Emily's vision for her wedding day was positively exquisite, and she hand-made her dress as well as those of her bridesmaids. The details were creative, the venue inspiring... it was a fun day. To say the very least.