There She Is . . .

The prom dress arrived! We ordered it in January, I had panic attacks about its arrival in February, we finally got it in March, and two weeks ago – two measly weeks before the Prom – her high school announced that strapless dresses are prohibited at their prom.

Probably because high school girls wait until ten days before the prom to begin looking for a gown, right?

I kept my cool when thepromdress.com took six weeks to deliver the dress. I even had a good belly laugh when they blamed Chinese New Year for the delay. But when the high school pulled that rule out of its metaphorical ass, my friends, I lost my shit.

I’ve included some pictures of what’s been allowed at high school proms across our great nation in recent years. Take a look at my daughter’s picture, and compare it to what has typically been tolerated.

My hairdresser, Josh, who’s my hairdresser/friend/shrink, came to my house to do her hair. And he brought with him a friend named Bart, who just happens to be a professional makeup artist. When they were finished, I helped her slip into the gown and then buckled her shoes for her. All that was missing was my dad singing his version of the Miss America song (“There she is/Miss America/There she is/My ideal”). His rendition went like this: “There she is, Miss-Cell-a-ne-ous.”

Isn’t she gorgeous in her prohibited gown?

Just for the record, my daughter doesn’t attend a Christian high school. It’s a public school. And I’ve no doubt that Flo Rida’s Right Round, with its lyrics about blow jobs ("You turn my head right round/when you go down/when you go down, down") will be in the DJ’s mix at some point during the evening.

Good thing there won’t be any slutty strapless gowns dancing to that song.

Well, actually, there will. Because last week, after I collected myself, I purchased a $26 wrap for her to wear over her $500 dress. Once she’s handed her ticket to the dress Nazi and entered that darkened ballroom, the wrap will be history. And she will have the time of her life dancing to suggestive lyrics in her absolutely decent, very pretty dress that will, most likely, turn a few heads - in a good way.

Another Way to Use that English Degree: Cafeteria Worker

The insurance company refused to return my post-interview telephone calls. I finally concluded that they were put off when I said, “I never imagined using my degree in creative writing to come up with creative ways to deny insurance coverage in writing.”

The Christian schools both wanted me, but I would have to wear dresses every day, attend the churches affiliated with their schools, and moonlight as a server in the school cafeteria during lunch. In addition, they proposed paying me with free tuition for the children I didn’t yet have.

So I went to work for the very large church. And before I ever got to write the first word of the first script, the pastor’s wife decided she wanted the job. So they redirected me to the church cafeteria, where I began my career as a writer by making large posters of the weekly menus for the Oasis Seniors Club, which we in the cafeteria affectionately called the Old-asses Club. And when I finished with the menu posters, I got to serve mashed potatoes to people so old they remembered the last Great Irish Potato Famine.

Given the lack of actual writing my new job demanded, I continued using my writing skills to further my husband’s Bible college education.

But I refused to be paid in sex. I opted instead for dinner out at the nicest restaurant we could afford, Taco Bell. Hell, I’ll take a burrito over a blow job any day of the week!