Nov 19, 2011

Well my friends, the time has come

... to raise the roof and have some fun. In T-12 hours, we'll be in heading to the desert in the Black Widow for Vegas and the Marine Corps Ball. Holla atcha gurl. 

I'm sitting here in the midst of a college football meltdown. This is occurring in the midst of my own, personal meltdown. 

So Oklahoma State loses to Iowa State, which is sad on many levels; USC beats #4 Oregon and BAYLOR beats #5 Oklahoma. I mean really. This is why people absolutely adore and plot to murder coaches in college football. Just a reminder: don't get cocky during the beginning of the season and start hashtagging your impending "winning season" because, inevitably, this shit will happen. Remember last year? Alabama lost, Ohio State lost the next week to Wisconsin, etc. 

Anyway, my personal meltdown happened yesterday when I received my dress. I got it from Rent the Runway, which is awesome because I got a beautiful designer gown that I didn't have to spend a fortune on to buy. However, I was crapping myself all week because a) I didn't get the dress until Friday, and we leave on Sunday, and b) They only had a 2L or a 4R. They said the long was the one I needed because the regular was too short for someone my height, however, I am normally a four (or so I thought). 

Turns out, the 2L fit perfectly, minus the fact that the front of the dress was too long. Here's the thing: runway dresses are made for, well, the runway. Therefore, they are made for models with no ta-tas and flat butts. But I have more ass than the models (Kanye), so while the dress was essentially "lifted" in the back to not drag on the floor (a time I am grateful for the booty), it left the front too long.

I ended up on the man-hunt for five inch heels. I don't know exactly how to measure off-handedly very well so I found the tallest pair of soft gold sandal heels I could find and ran home to try them on with my dress. Still, it was too long. I got up this morning to find another pair of shoes, but my mom suggested I run to Nordy's and ask their alterations department to perform a temporary hem on the dress so that I can cut the string and remove it when I need to. I thought she was crazy, but I went.

AND I DID. AND IT WORKED. If you are ever in need of a magnificent alterations lady on the fly, I highly suggest Osvanna at The Grove store. She was able to hand stitch the temporary hem and had it to me same day, which was essential since we're leaving before the store opens tomorrow.

I don't think men realize how much it takes for women to get ready for grand balls like this. This is not your normal, bush league sorority formal attempt. However, finding a dress and preparing reminds me of college. Every year for four years, we'd scramble around at the outlet mall on Thanksgiving weekend in an attempt to find the best dress we could for formal. There were a few conditions: 
  • It had to look expensive but be cheap. 
  • We could be able to spill on it and not worry about the repercussions.
  • Nobody else could have it.
The stipulations for finding this Marine Corps dress we more mature: 
  • It had to look like we could pass at the Oscars or on a red carpet, but it needed to be cheap. Real cheap.
  • We have to be able to pass as refined women who will actually being drinking Ciroc Coconut in the hotel room prior.
  • Nobody else could have it.
So after finding a dress, finding matching shoes, finding the jewelry, the purse; getting my nails did, getting a bloody airbrush tan (I'm a shade away from JWOWW) and eating eggs for breakfast and dinner for a week, I'd like to imagine that I've dedicated some serious time and effort to this ball. Women don't just show up and look wonderful. They have to put forth the effort, guys. So a simple, "Wow!" or "You look amazing!" is always appreciated.

My mom is also acting somewhat psychotic with this ball and she isn't even going. She's asked my father which men I should be "looking" for. The underlying meaning of "looking" is "finding yourself a man." Apparently the guys I'm "looking" for are the Officers, because they have college degrees and (essentially) make more money. Glad my mom is offering me this advice. She even told me how I can decipher the Officers from the other gentlemen. Oh yeah, and this exchange happened: 

"Find yourself a man."
"Mom, I'm not going to this to 'find myself a man.'"
"FIND YOURSELF A MAN. YOU ARE IN THE BEST POSSIBLE PLACE TO DO SO. And the men are extremely handsome in their dress blues, and they're stand up guys. Find yourself a MAN."

I guess there are absolutely no questions as to what my mother wants out of me. But unless Clay Matthews is walking in there in his Packers uniform, I'm not looking for no man!


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