Prom + Thong

This past weekend was my university's education formal. This means that all the education students were invited to pay a huge amount of $$ for a crappy meal, dress up (and drop said meal on expensive dress), and dance ridiculously with people you know + people you semi-know from your classes (which can get awkward). I decided to go, mostly because I LOVE dressing up, which I've talked about before -- it doesn't matter if I'm dressing up fancy or homeless, I love it all. Plus, most students in this program are out of town (people come to my crappy city for university and boot it outta here the minute they're done). So, I thought I'd be nice to hang out & have an awesome time with people I won't ever see again after April.

I love this picture from education formal for many reasons: 1) I'm veiled in smoke that was circulating all night on the dance floor; 2) You can't tell who I am by all this smoke, so I won't get kicked out of my program for having this blog; 3) I'm standing in front of these flags for absolutely no reason, which don't make the coolest background; 4) The place we were at was Italian, hence the Italian flag; 5) I'm not Italian.

The most important reason why I decided to go was because...I had a horrible high school prom experience. I'm sure we can all say something along those lines, but my high school prom memories have still stayed with me. Actually, most of my high school memories have stuck with me because, well, I was extreeeemeeeelllyyy awkward.

That's right. I had glasses, braces, & pimples. Big deal, right? Well, my mom made me take acne medication, which completely dried up my skin which made me flaky and scabby. I was blessed with an abnormally huge amount of body hair & pale skin, which only made matters worse. Plus, I just wasn't cool all around & I was really shy in high school. My prom was lame -- I wore a dress that I'm not too fond of now, my hair was in a simple bun, and my body turned splotchy orange because I incorrectly applied self-tanner. I didn't have a date. Nobody slow danced with me. My friends arrived late, everyone "cool" left early, I looked like an idiot dancing, I spilled food all down my dress, and our after-party consisted of a bon-fire with a couple of people (I HATE bonfires, if you didn't know).

Well, now I'm super-cool, above-average looking (does that make me sound vain?), and people can't get me to shut up. So, I wanted to make some good prom memories. Unfortunately, some things about high school prom were still the same. Although I looked and felt gorgeous, there was of course the token blonde skank who kept standing up at her table & cheering & pulling her dress up so that you could actually see her ass cheeks. There were the popular, cocky guys that were showing off and doing ridiculous dance moves (one of them even pushed past me on the dance floor and I was like, "Oh no you di'n't! I will not have the popular dudes treat me like a loser again!") There were teachers present, professors in this case, which were extremely weird and awkward to be dancing in front of.

The difference this time around, however, is that we were all beyond old enough to drink. Which means that I went ABSOLUTELY NUTS when a Backstreet Boys song came on, and proceeded to dance in front of the smoke machine with my friend while doing dance moves that only the Backstreet Boys themselves would be proud of. Also, a bunch of us left a little bit early so we could go sing karaoke in a scuzzy bar with our fancy dresses. I proceeded to sing "The Thong Song" by Sisqo, by myself, very badly. I vaguely remember yelling into the mic, "This song is dedicated to all my thong-wearing ladies (and men). Put your hands in the air if you're wearing a thong!" One person did. I proceeded to say, "Good, because I'm wearing Granny panties!" I think this night definitely ties with the embarrassment experienced on high school prom night. I guess I can't escape it.

This weekend, I'm dressing in drag, which should be fun. As much as I have already explained to you all that I would rather be a man so I could dress up as a woman, I am still pretty excited to dress up as a man nonetheless. So, I must go practice my beard application. And my ball-grabbing technique. Until next time, folks.

O frabjous day...callooh callay!!

Okay, so I officially have no more excuses. I've neglected my blog lately (I lost 1 follower....oh my!) but I really do have a good excuse. I was planning/hosting an Alice in Wonderland tea party, which I've been obsessed with forever. AND, I've been back to regular classes that are although easy, yet very time-consuming and tedious. The work they give us is ridiculously easy (i.e. "Describe in one page, the negative impact of bullying in schools") but they give us A LOT of it, which takes up tons of time. So, my goal this semester is to put in as little effort as possible. Many of my friends are approaching school this way too, because it's super easy to get good marks. And get this: Your marks from teacher's college don't count. It's true -- most principals/future employers don't look at them or care, and they don't count if you're applying for graduate studies. SO, hopefully, this will leave more time for blogging. Plus, when I'm poor and unemployed and will have to start paying for prescriptions/student loans/tubs of ice cream after I graduate in a few short months, I'll have plenty of time for blogging. Seriously. I won't be able to afford to go out, so I'll sit at home and blog. You'll be sick of me, I swear.

Anyways, Jennie at Well Shut the Front Door! awarded me with a Stylish Blogger Award (God knows why...) and I am super grateful/shocked. Thanks doll!! If you haven't read her blog... do it! She's super cool and has cute dogs and thinks certain fictional characters are hot. And if I knew her in real life, I'm sure we'd go to many a drag show together.

Apparently, this is what I have to do:

1) Thank and link back to the person who awarded you this award
2) Share 7 things about yourself
3) Award 15 recently discovered great bloggers
4) Contact these bloggers and tell them about the award

Well.....I don't know if I know 15 recently discovered great bloggers (I haven't been reading many blogs lately, refer back to paragraph 1) who haven't received one yet, and I don't know if I can think of 7 things about me....but I'll try.....

I am giving this award to...

1) Jess @ not your average joan of archetypal patterns because she makes me laugh and pee.
2) Becs @ Stiletto Studio  because she inspired me to host an Alice in Wonderland party (after I saw her Tim Burton party pics) and because she makes amazing culinary creations...and I don't even like food blogs.

I also think I should post a link to Tom @ Tbr Tangential who has been reading and commenting on my blog since the beginning & who always has witty & insightful things to say. And he's British, so he deserves kudos for that alone.

Okay, 7 things (don't hate me if I've mentioned them before):

1) In grade 3, we had to use the word "screw" in a sentence in our English class. I wrote, "Screw you!" to my teacher. I didn't know what it meant. She was pissed and called my mom. My mom had to write an apology letter, saying, "K-money has a sense of humour. I'm terribly sorry."

2) When my parents lived in the country, a stray cat once wandered into our yard and gave birth to a head. Just a head.

3) I am not destined to play sports. I've broken my nose, toes, and bruised my ribs. I've fallen off chair-lifts, t-bars, monkey bars, gotten smacked in the face, knocked out, and once rolled down a ski hill.  There are many other minor embarrassments as well. This is why I used to "forget" my skates every time my class went on a skating trip in elementary school.

4) I really get into things....if that's the right term. I get really angry, really sad, really happy, really crazy, really excited, etc. I'm never just neutral or normal.

5) When I was younger, I memorized a song that teaches you to pronounce Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch

which is a village in Wales that has one of the longest place names in the world. I would sing this song ALL THE TIME and drive people nuts.

6) One Christmas, I was super sick and puked 17 times in one day. My dad made me a certificate that congratulated me for that incredible feat. He framed it and put it on my bedroom wall.

7) I write ridiculous songs that I play & sing on the guitar when I'm slightly intoxicated. A few of my favourites are: "I've Got a Crush on My Professor," "My Town Sucks," "To The Jerk Whose Name Rhymes With Wayne and Starts with an 'Sh'" and "Life Sucks When You're the Third Wheel." One day, after I graduate and won't be afraid of showing my face on the Internet in fear that I'll get kicked out of my program, I'll perform one for you all.

Finally, here are some pics from my tea party.

It was one of the top 10 things on my bucket list. We drank tea and dressed up in Alice in Wonderland-ish costumes and then went to the bar in our ridiculous outfits and made everyone's heads turn. We went to both a super-redneck bar and and a super-preppy bar and peoples' reactions were priceless. At one point, I even had 3 top hats and a bouquet of flowers balanced on my head, with 2 drinks in hand, while dancing. Neither I nor the items tumbled over. Quite shocking.

Fever Sweats & Spice Girls

I am writing to you, at 5am, laying in my squeaky bed, covered in sweat. Yes, that's right. I have been sick/planning an Alice in Wonderland tea party/going back to regular classes, hence my lack of posting in the past while. However, I do believe this whole running-a-fever-all-night-and-having-to-go-to-class-in-three-hours-or-I-will-get-kicked-out-of-my-program is a divine intervention of some sort, in order to get me to post. So, here I am.

Today I'm going to talk to you about the obsession of mine that towers over all the other obsessions. As you've probably noticed, I do indeed get obsessed with things: Orlando Bloom, David Bowie, transvestite musicals, goats, etc. I'm sure there's some deep psychological reason why people get obsessed with things (I did learn about it in psych class, but brushed it off, of course!) That aside, when I was 9, the one thing that ruled my life, more than Pokemon cards or my parents, was SPICE GIRLS. Oh boring, you might think. Lots of girls (and some boys) were obsessed with them. BIG deal.


That's where you're wrong. You see, although all my friends/half the world went nuts for the Spice Girls, you could say that I easily could have been president of their fan club. Easily. I knew EVERYTHING about them. This came from Internet suddenly taking a huge role in our lives in the mid-90s, which accounted for my knowing how to use it better than my parents. Thanks for that, Spice Girls. I would research facts about them and quiz my friends relentlessly at school. I would also print off colour pictures of them (a pretty novel thing at the time too) and add them + my pages of Spice Girls facts to my giant Spice Girls binder. I would then bring this majestic binder to the playground, boss my friends around, and if they were particularly worthy, I would allow them to choose 1 coloured Spice Girls picture to keep. Crazy, I know.

Remember all the Spice Girls merchandise? Lollipops, stickerbooks, t-shirts, pencils, etc.? I had it all. I also had a Spice Girls birthday cake, which was pretty cool at the time too. Every inch of my walls in my bedroom were covered in Spice Girls -- Baby Spice was my favourite, followed by Ginger Spice. Obviously. Nobody liked Sporty Spice (because she had no boobs and talked with an accent that nobody could understand), Posh Spice (because she looked like a bitch), or Scary Spice (because she was hyper and made devil horns out of her hair). We had a Spice Girls impersonation group come to my small city one year, and I can remember feeling cheated, storming off half-way through, yelling, "Impostors! Baby Spice is soooo not taller than Sporty Spice!" I can still fondly remember the nights where my friend and I would sit in my parents bedroom with our handmade Spice Girls fan signs (computer paper taped to rulers), screaming while watching "Spice Girls: Live in Istanbul." We would sit on my parents' bed with our fan signs and pretend that we were actually in the audience. Adorable/nuts, eh?

Looking back, perhaps the most embarrassing event of the Spice Girls obsession was my school's spaghetti dinner. This happened once a year and the school's rec. centre, where families were invited to an all-you-can-eat dinner of questionable meatballs and entertainment. That's right, it was the students' job to entertain the parents onstage, while they were eating their dinner. To me, this translated to "moment where I can prove to the world how much of a Spice Girls fan I really am and get my big break." Although I couldn't be Baby Spice like I wanted (the head snob of our clique was awarded that title, I'm afraid), I got to be Ginger Spice, my second choice. I was so excited for this event -- I made my friends rehearse the dance moves to "Wannabe" relentlessly during recess. And I had gone over my solo lines of "Get your act together we could be just fine" and "If you really bug me then I'll say goodbye" complete with appropriate head turning and hand-waving many, many times.

Finally the big night had arrived. I had a sparkly shirt on, a la Ginger Spice style. After weeks of singing the song in my sleep, I was finally ready. While parents stuffed their faces with meatballs, my friends and I performed. But it was I who really performed. While my friends hardly danced to the song, I was the one who was totally into it. I had every dance move down perfectly; every "Zig-A-Zag Ah" leg crossing moment done to perfection. I'm sure my other friends just had stage fright. And after we finished, I, beaming, approached my Grade 5 crush, and asked, "How did I look?" and he said, "Giddy." I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I took it to mean, "Extremely Spice-Girls-like and awesome." I approached my parents, who with blank looks on their faces, grabbed their coats and whisked me away abruptly. It's only because they didn't want the other kids to hound me for autographs, I'm sure.

Shortly after, the Spice Girls broke up, which was a very sad day indeed. I remember sitting in my room, staring at the pictures of Gerry on the wall, wondering "Why could you do such a thing? Why?!?" My dad had just sat me down, and quite somberly explained that she had left the band. It was the end of my world as I knew it. The next day at school, all my friends immediately thought the Spice Girls were uncool. It was amazing, one day they were the centre of the universe, the next day they became as uncool as Aaron Carter. I still secretly went on loving the Spice Girls, however. I made a mix CD -- this was when Napster was in its prime -- that included both "Holler" and "Goodbye" by the four remaining Spice Girls. The head snob of our clique listened to the CD one day in class -- I forgot that it included those 2 songs -- and she exclaimed, "Spice Girls?!? Ewww! They are so totally uncool. Are you telling me that you still like them?" I responded with, "Oh, definitely no. My sister made me put them on the CD. She's soooooo weird." Good one, I know.

To this day, I'm still sad that they've broken up. Sure, they had a reunion tour that I would have gladly sold my limbs to attend (apparently selling body parts is against the law. Who knew?) Sure, most of them have babies and dress like moms, minus Victoria Beckham who dresses like streetwalker Barbie. Sure, none of them have done anything substantial since...Unless you count Mel C. who had some hits in the UK or something. Whatever. I still love them. When a Spice Girls song comes on, even an obscure one, I still know ALL the lyrics. It's very strange -- I have few memories of my childhood, and I have difficulty remembering what I had for breakfast, but I can sing the lyrics to any Spice Girls song. And as much as this is an oxymoron, one that feminists probably cringe at when they hear it coming from the Spice Girls' mouths, I must say: "Girl Power. Girl Power to all, and to all a goodnight."