get in the limo: tanit-isis!

oh hai!  i'm getting all fancy and writing in italics because i'm about to hop in a virtual limo and pick up some lovely peeps who'd like to share some prom tales of yore with y'all!  these sewists never fail to make me laugh, and since they can't be at promaballoona in person, we're picking them up photoshop style.  ruggy has gallantly offered to chauffeur, what a man.  first on the itinerary: the goddess tanit isis!  get in the limo, girl!  tell us a tale!

Happy Prom Week to you! Happy Prom Week to you!

Now, I'm sure you all know as well as I do that no one throws a bash like Oona, so as soon as she announced her plan for a Promaballoona Extravaganza birthday week, I was so in. Even the complete impossibility of actually making a whole prom dress right now wasn't enough to deter me---I'll just take some new photos of my old one!

However, when she asked for our hilarious prom stories for these guest posts, I confess I got some rather cold feet. My grad (we don't actually call it prom up here) experience was awesome. I had exactly the kind of wholesome, safe, fun graduation that every parent should wish for their child. Which was lovely, but doesn't make for a great story.

I'll start with my date. Let's call him the Dr.  He wasn't then but he is now, working in cancer research in the San Francisco area. What a catch, eh? He's also tall, cleancut, funny, humble, and a serious gentleman. Unfortunately, being a teen, I had agreed with all my friends that he was "too nice" and locked him firmly in the friend zone. I can't really regret it, now, being slightly addicted to my husband, but one can still indulge in the odd twinge of "what might have been," right? He was a few years older than me, and by the time I was of graduand age, had made a bit of a business out of escorting young ladies of our social circle to their various grads. He had it down. He taught me to ballroom dance in the months leading up to the big day, mostly on the patio on top of his apartment building, which was one of the few genuine (ok, almost) skyscrapers in my hometown.

On The Day, he showed up with a beautiful iris wrist corsage for me, matching buttonhole corsage in his suit. Flowers hadn't even occurred to me. And he gave me a tiny little notebook full of hilarious and sweet little stories, silly jokes, and anecdotes about how awesome I was. It's probably the single most romantic gift I've ever gotten. I read it cover to cover during the bording speeches.

We danced at the dance. We hung out with my crazy friends. One wore a tux; one brought her girlfriend; one wore a 1700s panier dress rented from a costume house (with a buzz cut). For the after-grad, we skipped the official After Grad and went to another friend's house, outside of town, who had a pool. We hung out and swam and talked until dawn. There was a disappointingly complete lack of teenage drinking, sex, or any other debauchery.

God, I'm so straight-edge I make me sick.

And the Dr. and I continued to be just friends. He went on to acquire a PhD in Microbiology, while I went on to experiment with teenage pregnancy. (Ok, I racked up some degrees, too, eventually...)

Aside from the brains 'n all, the Dr. is also one of the funniest people I've ever met. In fact, that little notebook is considerably funnier than I could ever possibly be, so I've photographed a few of the pages just to share with you.

can you believe that notebook?!  THAT WAS LOVE, YO!  you can see more of The Dr's pages here (and really, YOU SHOULD).  having had the bittersweet luck of a fifteen minute meetup in an airport, i'm completely un-surprised that this gorgeous goddess had doctors-in-waiting filling up composition books for her.  

alright, ruggy's going to pour us some champagne (oh, the benefits of reliving prom at legal drinking age) and steer our trio to our next guest... see you soon!