Prom

This weekend I am going to prom. I like going to prom-you get to see all of the girls dressed up, you get to hunt for contraband alcohol and search kids, you get to make kids stop dancing freaky on the dance floor. It's fun. This year our prom is embroiled in scandal. You can read the article from the Daily Press here. If you're going to bother to read the article, take the time to read the comments because that's really the crème de la crème of the High Desert there. That is my dating pool. The article doesn't mention that for a 24 hour period this week I was not chaperoning prom because they were going to use that spot for a student and I, for a 24 hour period, was pretty excited about getting out of prom. But then Ms. Angel called and asked if I'd be her date because they needed more chaperones and I said, yes, but don't think that just because you waited until the last minute to ask me that I'm going to put out. Ms. Angel said that was unfortunate because that was why she asked me. Putting out at prom is so 90210.

I never have a date for prom and always have to check the "I will chaperone prom" box and not the "I will chaperone prom with my significant other" box on the prom chaperone form. I briefly considered taking my pot smoking dog Earl as my date, but he has done two things this week to make me not happy. First, he knocked me over on Monday and I fell onto the dead stump of a tree in the back yard. Earl, well, he's not so graceful and when he jumps he has this look on his face like "What the hell is going on here?" It happened in slow motion. He was up on the cement; I was on the dirt and he jumped up and landed on my chest causing me to fall over onto the stump. Luckily I did not break a nail. Then last night I made bread. I was damn excited about my bread. This morning I laid in bed thinking "Am I going to have a sandwich? Just bread? Bread for breakfast? Bread for lunch?" And so when I got up, I took the bread out of the bread maker and put it on the counter. Then I took a shower. When I got out Earl had taken the loaf of bread off of the counter and Sarah was gnawing on it in the living room. At first I didn't know what it was because I didn't have my glasses on and I thought she might be gnawing on a dead animal. But no, it was my loaf of bread. I wanted to cry. I considered cutting off the parts that hadn't been knibbled, but Earl did a good job of slobbering over every part and I didn't want my bread so bad I was going to eat Earl's slobbered on seconds. So I threw it in the trash and yelled, "NOBODY GETS BREAD NOW!"