Tomorrow is my last day at school. Ever.
I’m a bit scared.
Of course, I’m going straight into study leave and I’ll have exams for the next month, but that’s not what this post is about.
We all wore our old school uniforms today…that was interesting. One of my friends wore his primary school uniform. As in, he last wore it when he was ten, and he’s now eighteen.
I wore one of my original school shirts from about Year Nine, which was extremely uncomfortable, as I used to be flat-chested and now I am definitely not. That shirt came under the description of ‘compression bra’.
Tomorrow, we’re going to be singing the Leaver’s Song (which is Rusted Root’s ‘Send Me On My Way’), having 6th Form Entertainment, which is a bunch of sketches, videos and skits designed to take the piss out of our school days (and teachers!), and going to the Leaver’s Ball.
Let me just stop for a moment here, while I squee over my outfit (If you’re a guy, you can skip this part). I’m wearing a teal dress and gold shoes and gold accessories and it’s going to be OMG So Fucking Awesome. Because the dress makes me look hot. Seriously. That is all you want in a prom dress. And it’s floor-length, which is so fun to wear, because I never get to wear anything floor-length!
OK, enough about my dress…on to the main business of this post (if you’re a guy, you probably just want to skip this next bit again because it’s about girls and their outfits).
First up: this is a ball. That means you do not wear sheer white gauze as a dress. Nor do you wear a summer day-dress. We are having dinner at the Racecourse. That qualifies as a formal event, and so you should be wearing a suitably awesome dress.
Secondly: spray tans. There are several girls in my year who have got spray tans for the ball. Spray tans darken up a few hours after you get them. A lot of the girls who have got spray tans are blonde. This means that they now resemble Wotsits with lightbulbs on top.
We are English! Nobody is going to believe that you magically tanned in the rain last week! Orange is not a good colour to be!
Okaaay, now I’ve vented that, I happen to have a copy of the poem that my friend wrote while drunk.
If I said I love you
You would say
I don’t know what
I want to dance with, my, dad
But my, dad, is dead
Why, did the, cow, jump
Over the moon? Was she, in a
Sexual encounter, with a spoon?
Forking. How very rude, of them.
But like the point was, or I think the point should be,
Is that I think I love you, you, you don’t love me
Dance, with the baby kittens, in Novembertime
We will be happy, happy like a nursery rhyme
I don’t think that we will be happy, I don’t know
If you can actually smile, oh wily man
Oh wily man. Dance with me.
I’ll just leave you with that to think about. Is it Drunken Awesomeness, or the literary equivalent of that upside-down urinal?