I just came from the "walk-in" a huge thing in our dusty little town. Basically, the high schoolers get a really nice, or a really silly vehicle to drive to prom in. They are announced and walk in, date in arm, before a huge crowd of locals. (like me) I was there camera in hand trying to get a pic of each of the youth group kids who attended prom this year. Not knowing how big an ordeal this is, last year Wendy the boys and I showed up right as the shindig was to begin and, wow, was there ever a crowd. This year Wendy is at a nephews graduation party so I snuggled into the crowd with all the oo'ers and aahh'ers.
here's one thing I noticed. A walk-in covers a multitude of sins. As I sat there, eavesdropping in on the comments around me ("not very many people could pull of that color of yellow" "look at her hair, how cute" "o, I like that dress" "the valet can't get the car into gear") I noticed particularly with the boys, some of which I know to have not so awesome reputations, that as long as you showed up in style, A horse drawn carriage, a Model T, or a 14 passenger stretched Hummer, people said, "he's such a nice boy" or "what a darling girl".
once I realigned my innards I tried to process these comments in my "I don't get it" file. I don't get it. Maybe some sleep will help. Why do we fall so easily for make-up and borrowed threads? I don't get it. Maybe I don't even want to. I don't know. Perhaps though, as I think about it more, this is similar to judgement day. the final walk-in. Where I get my shiny new robe and my shiny new name (we get one you know) and as I make my way in people will applaud and cheer saying...what a nice boy.

puke. that was really dumb but fun. I'm tired. latro.