Prom and Punch

What is the number one stress of high schoolers all across America?

Finals!

Wrong!

I’m talking about prom, people! The biggest dance of your teenage life prom? The one where the guy asks the girl, and then–it–well, it goes on as normal from there. Anyway, it’s coming up for a lot of folks, which is exciting!

Don’t know if I’m going or not. I did the whole asking thing, but it didn’t turn out in my favor; go figure, huh? Might as well go stag and freak out a shitload of people with my dancing skills.

Woah, check this cat out!

Is he doing the worm? No, it looks like the anteater! 

Dude, didn’t the anteater go out of style three years ago?

Yeah, man, this cat is kicking at a dry litter box; let’s beat it. 

Totally.

Excellent.

Excuse Bill and Ted there, they sometimes pop up. But I don’t see Keanu Reeves much anymore; rumor is he finally found the sweet spot of Hollywood and is chomping on feature film candy as we speak.

If I do go to prom, I’ll likely stand in the back and drink punch like a creep. Girls’ll walk up to me, and I’ll say, “Hey…you think the punch is good, or what?” I will name it a victory if they don’t dump their punch in my face–oh, not the shirt, please not the shirt!

It’ll be nice. It’ll be real nice.

And you know? That’s exactly what the farmer said to Old Yeller before he shot him.

Actually, I haven’t watched it in a while, so what do I know? Guess I have plans now.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

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