Prom 1991*

Recently an old friend found me through Classmates dot com. I'd link to them, but I believe they are run by the devil. Not because my friend found me, but because they email you and say things like:

Your very bestest friend in the whole wide world is trying to contact you and aren't you a cheap fucking douche if you don't pony up the minimum payment to get your awesome Gold Star membership so you can talk to the person that you haven't seen in 12+ years. Bitch.

What. Ever. I hate Classmates dot com with a fiery, bloody passion. However, out of all the people in my past that I couldn't give two stinky half-dead rats' asses about, this person is actually one that I've missed over the years. Due to his influence I started listening to punk in high school and saw more than one great show. For the purpose of this blog, I'm calling him Minor Threat. A play on his initials and for those of you in the know, a reference to the punk heritage.

Some of you may be wondering: "What does this have to do with the title?" Well fuckall if I'm not going to tell you. My junior prom was all set to be the greatest ever in the history of proms. I had a beautiful princess dress and my boyfriend had the cutest mohawk. Then my boyfriend dumped me. ME! The one who respected his asinine wish to remain a virgin until he was married. The one who fucked the very next girl he dated. One of my friends. And HE TOOK HER TO PROM!

Now, I wasn't serious about the guy, but finding a last minute date to the prom isn't easy. Even for a girl of my obvious lack of virtue. Guess who saved the day? Minor Threat. He rented a tuxedo, took me to the dance, let me take endless cheesy pictures and then after the dance we parted ways. He didn't even demand a blow job for payment. What a swell guy!

Minor Threat and I lost touch twelve or so years ago. He has FIVE children and one on the way! (Congrats!) When he got in touch with me, one of the first things he bitched about was how hard it is to find someone that keeps changing their name. Well, SOME of us are busy marrying and divorcing and playing "what will my last name be this week?" while OTHERS just shack up with one lovely lady and have a bunch of kids. I think someone just isn't trying hard enough.

Due to my vagina ownership, I have pictures from that fateful prom where Minor Threat took one for the team. I scanned them, sent them off to him for approval and BAM! here they are...


Here comes the Sam...all dressed in WHITE NYLONS WITH BLACK SHOES!!??? OMG!

How cool am I? Come, tell me. 'Cause I know I am the coolest in my Oakley Frogskins and 80's Camaro.

Me and Minor Threat. Isn't it sweet how he's pretending to be my REAL ACTUAL date? Five minutes later he was disinfecting his arm.

If you're wondering, I gave my URL to Minor Threat. I figured it was much easier than emailing back and forth about my boring life. He demanded his own post, and I demanded the right to post pictures. Now we're both happy. Too bad he lives in another state. I'd love to meet his better half and his almost half dozen chicklets. I've seen pictures and they're fucking adorable! Must be from his wife's side. :)

*(pictures removed)