Prom angst

Emily and I realized quite suddenly today that the Prom is five and a half days away. I rushed her dress to the dry cleaners for a good steaming. I ordered a boutonniere. We made lists of things to do. We talked hair, nails, and makeup. And shoes. And undergarments.

I realize I should have done all these things weeks ago, but I was distracted by the pain in my feet. Oh, yes, and you can't really do much about anything if you're standing behind a cash register.

We looked at Prom magazines. Why? I'm not sure. It's far too late to be thinking about dress styles, which seems to be the main order of business in Prom magazines. It's too late to rob a bank and order a limousine. It's far too late to make Emily grow her hair out really long so I'll have something to work with.

But at least I looked at the magazines. I didn't buy one. Oh, no. I was afraid if I actually bought one, I would suddenly realize how absolutely unnecessary all this stuff is.

I spoke to Jef this afternoon -- he's Emily's main squeeze and proposed Prom date. He's a nervous wreck about the whole thing, the poor dear.

And Emily doesn't even want me to do her hair and make-up. The next door neighbor's girl friend is way cooler than I am. Sheeeeeeeee's going to do Emily's hair and make-up. Hmph.

In other news, the word count as of this moment is 6,571. About 6000 of those words are complete garbage. OK, that's a lie. About 6500 of those words are absolute dreck.

I'm going to go try to read some chick lit now. I hope none of it was plagiarized.