Pre and Post Prom

My pre-prom preparations yesterday inlcuding bike riding, bullshitting with my bike boyfriends, getting the rototiller and trip to the Apple Valley Wal-Mart*. Going to the Apple Valley Wal-Mart is a morale booster, like going to the Stater Bros by my house. Compared to the average patron I've got my shit together. I've got a job. I don't have to shop on the first or fifteenth of the month. My clothes (mostly) match. I don't have to leave my 40 outside; nor am I purchasing a 40 inside. Yesterday at Wal-Mart there was a guy collecting signatures. I never sign petitions and sure as heck am not going to sign a petition by a guy with a home made sign outside of Wal-Mart in Apple Valley. I want my signature getters to have real signs. So when he asked me if I was a registered voter, I said no. (I am, of course.) And then he asked me if I wanted to be and on the fly, using my rapier wit and intelligence I responded I can't because I'm not a citizen. He asked where I was from and I said, France. He looked surprised, You don't strike me as being French. I shrugged my shoulder, but had my rapier wit not been depleted I would have responded, why because I'm not wearing a stripped shirt and a beret? I am now going to always be French for these people because it also will be a small protest. How does he know I'm not?

Prom was fine. The bus ride was fine. I read my book. There was a brief moment where I suspected some sexual activity going on in the seat behind me. And I had to keep turning around. Then an even more awkward when the couple asked me for some kleenex. I was grossed out for several minutes, but I figured if they're freaky enough to be getting it on in the seat right behind the chaperone in plain sight of everyone else then there was nothing I could do to save these two young adults. We did not find an contraband alcohol. We busted up couples getting too freaky on the dance floor. We chaperones danced up a storm for a few songs. I like dancing, but always feel a bit awkward dancing at prom; the key is to just look as stupid as possible so the kids know you are being stupid and won't think you can't dance. I got a perfunctory lap dance from Ms. Angel- an overt attempt to get me to put out, but I was not going to be swayed by peer pressure. The ride home, well, my bus got to leave. But then they realized that they were missing two kids. Calls all around, do you have extra kids on your bus? No. Count them again. Lights on. I was afraid of what I might find going on in the back of the bus, but those kids were passed out. Turns out, after an hour of searching, worrying, controlled panic, the mom had already come and picked the kids up, but didn't tell anyone. So 100 kids were over an hour late getting back because mom didn't mention she picked up her kids, as if we wouldn't notice. As if this is fine. Inconsiderate bastards.

I'm currently waiting for Randi and Earl to make me breakfast for mother's day.

Randi looking out our new screen door!

*Going to Wal-Mart in Victorville can be taking your life in your hands. Whenever I go, I call my sister and say, "I'm going to Wal-Mart in Victorville, so if I don't call in an hour I've been shot up."