Sunday, June 18, 2006

What Kinda Foolishness?

The original purpose of the prom was your coming out party. You were to find that high school mate and run away together as soon as the two of you graduated; settle down like the Suzy Homemaker your mother was and live happily ever ater. Whether or not your husband became a drunk after the birth of your second child lay solely on your shoulders.
I'm all for kids enjoying that one last night with people they may never see again. But this is taking it a bit far:
and there's more...

(see the rest at Crunk+Disorderly) This sh*t disturbs me. Why does the chick in the top look like she is auditioning for the Fanta Girls? This is exactly why I'm glad I missed my prom. Yes, you heard me: I'm glad I missed my prom. I stayed home of my own volition. There was no way I was going to spend four hours in a crowded room with people I didn't want to see ever again. And no liquor? Were they kidding?
Our (their) prom was at some hotel in the Bronx from 8-12. And again, no liquor. So basically it was a birthday party. A prom is from 8 until. A birthday party ends at midnight. It's like my cousin Nieta had her Sweet Sixteen and since she can't drink alcohol yet she's taking pictures with her mother's half empty bottle of Corona but she's not actually drinking it because she wants to look cool when she shows the pictures to her not-so-cool friends at school who were not invited becuase there wasn't enough space in Uncle Flaco's yard to house all fifty-six of her rowdy ass classmates.
As you can see, I'm not actually concerned with the prom at all, just with the lack of spirits. How is one supposed to enjoy themselves when there is no wet bar? I've enver gone anywhere where I couldn't immediately go in the corner and say the words "Bartender, make me a..." My mother's wedding? twsited. Moni's wedding? Twisted. If my godbrother ever actually sits down and marries that cow? Mad twisted for the announcement and super twisted for the actual ceremony.
I can't wait for my daughters/sons prom. They're gonna be fly as hell, to be sure, but they're gonna be classy as well. If my son goes to the shop and pulls down some sh*t that's gonna have him lookin like Deion Sanders, I'm gonna pimp slap him and make him put it back. And likewise, if my daughter tries to play herself and come out looking like the second coming of Lil Kim, she's gonna get a "hell to the naw" and a oops upside her head.
Gem for the evening: When you do it, do it right, peoples.


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