The [Now Resolved] Horror Story of Prom Ball '08.

Hi darling loves. Want to hear a prom horror story?
I've already mentioned this to a few of you yesterday but I happened upon this blog a few minutes ago and decided it would be quite a story to tell.

Well. Yesterday was the promenade ball at my high school. My brother is a senior and as a good older sister I was fairly involved with the process. (I received a frantic phone call from him about an hour before he was supposed to leave to pick up his girlfriend saying, "I checked my tux yesterday and it looked fine, but I just looked at it again and I have SOY SAUCE all over the front of it. What do I DO!?" . . . Heads up: Tide On The Go does wonders for sanity. The funniest part about it is that, as I was walking out of the drug store about five minutes later, I happened to look in the window of the shop next door, and what do I see? My brother. Getting a manicure. So I walk in and I say to him, "helloooo" and he says, "HOW DID YOU SEE ME?" to which I reply, "Well. . . you are the only male and the only Indian in this entire place. . . and you happen to be wearing a bright red shirt and are sitting smack in front of the window closest to the parking lot. How could I NOT see you?" Um. I love it. Basically.)
Well. . . post-dress madness, Peri and I accompanied the kids to take group pictures at the pond and stood around chatting it up with all of the proud parents whose adoration for their fancily-clad children shone brighter than the morning sun.
It was all fun and games until Mike and his girlfriend Jessie arrived with their parents, the group them all looking frazzled as hell. Apparently, they had just come from Jessie's friends house where they had intended to take pictures before taking pictures with Mike's group. I wanted to hear how the photos went there because Jessie's group of friends happen to be the (current) seniors I know best and am most friendly with from my old high school. Well. Um. Apparently things didn't go too well.
When they got to the house, they noticed there were police cars and ambulances all over the street. They went to the backyard where the pictures were supposed to occur to find- not kids, but paramedics and cops.
Apparently, this group was taking pictures on the girl's second story balcony, looking all pretty and stuff, when the balcony suddenly just collapsed and plummeted like, thirty feet to the ground, bringing all of the kids down with it. Three girls were sent to the hospital- one of my friends with a foot fractured in multiple places- and everyone else was all bruised and ripped up in their prom gowns and tuxes.
Talk about worst life, man.
So these girls go to the hospital and are pretty badly hurt and so disappointed they missed prom ball after they were so excited about it and spent all this money on it and stuff. But you know what? Prom must be like Christmas. I just talked to my brother (he's at the apartment in the city with 14 of his friends for post-prom madness) and he told me that apparently, someone's Father peer pressured the hospital to just like, load the girls up on not some, but ALL of the morphine drugs and let them go to prom. And the hospital consented. So, fractured foot, collapsed balcony and ripped dresses aside, the girls eventually got the prom ball and had a fucking fantastic time.

The end.

Love you all.
Até. . .