When a Military Ball isn’t a Ball

Yesterday was the JROTC military ball. Allow me to describe my day to you.

I woke up at 6:30 am so that I could join my friend LaJuina and her family at breakfast. I took 4 Aleves and 2 Tylenol Colds, so I only had the sniffles once during breakfast, although I did get very congested, as I always do now when I sit for more than about a half-hour. The problem is, LaJuina thought the mall (where we were going to get our hair and nails done), didn’t open until 9:30. That’s a two hour breakfast. We did manage to stretch it out until 9:00, then we split up to head towards the mall, about a 20 minute drive.

My mother and I arrived at the mall about 9:30, and, lo and behold, none of the shops were open. They didn’t open until 10:00. So I’m walking in circles around my mother, trying to keep from getting stuffy, while she’s playing games on her new PDA on a bench. LaJuina and her family didn’t show up until about ten minutes until ten o’clock. I kept walking around, because I didn’t want to get stuffy while I was sitting there getting my nails done. I think the nail place was the last friggin’ shop in the mall to open.

It should be noted, once again, that I find dresses, nails, hairdos, pedicures, etc., to be the most torturous or all torture devices. Oh, and makeup and high-heels, too.

So I got a full set of nails put on (acrylics) with a French manicure (clear paint with white airbrushed on the tips). I did not get a pedicure, although I am treating my mother to a full set and a pedicure for Valentine’s Day.

During all of this, my mother shopped for el-cheapo jewelry to match the dress.

Following the nails and the long wait while LaJuina’s family went underwear shopping (they had backless dresses and had to hunt for something creative for their upper-bodies), we went to get our hair done. Yet another torture device. I hate people messing with my hair. I hate “do’s” and ghetto-fied looks. The place where we were supposed to get our hair done had an hour and forty-five minute wait. This was at 12:15, when I needed to be home in about 3 hours. So that didn’t work. The only other hair place in the mall looked at me like I was some sort of alien when I came in, and had no idea how to do a black person’s hair. So that didn’t work. So I let my mom mess with it. What the hell else could I do?

So we get home after this fiasco, and I’m sick. I’m sneezing violently, coughing, my throat feels like it’s swollen shut, and I’m alternating between not being to breathe except through my mouth and being unable to stop the flow from my nose. So I take a 30 minute nap and wait for LaJuina to get home so that I can get the little jacket I’m supposed to wear with the sleeveless dress, because, of course, she left it at home that morning.

By the time we finally get to go out, get the jacket and come back, we’ve got a half-hour to get ready. That includes hair and clothing. So mother-deary attempts to blow-dry my hair, which makes it almost worse than when it is curly, in my opinion, because it becomes all wispy and straight. So we fought with it until about 4:40, and Dulin, my “date”, had still not show up. I was putting on the jacket when he finally did arrive, and I had to hurry to pack up my little purse with pills, cell phone, money, etc. We ran out about 4:50, with Dulin laughing at me the entire way there. I think I showed admirable restraint in only punching him about twice.

We arrived at Chen’s Bistro a little late, but hey, no one else was there, so it doesn’t matter. LaJuina and her family are going to be late to their own friggin’ funerals. They move so slowly through everything. There’s never any rush. My current sociology and former US History teacher Ms. V was there, however. Surprise! Joy. She said I looked cute, though. I wanted to melt into the floor and never emerge. Dulin just laughed.

After the expensive and worthless dinner (nobody ate much, but everyone paid about 12-17 bucks per plate), we headed out to the Sheraton at the Airport and arrived at about 6:50. Of course, we beat LaJuina’s family there, because LaJuina decided she wanted to ride with her skank friend Ashley who’s even later than they are for things. And then she gets an attitude about it if you mention it. I avoided her all night.

At the ball, Dulin and I were met by Ross, a cute little militarily-correct freshman guy with a nametag of Howard, and several other underclassmen, all Dulin’s minions. Several problems came up, of course. First, the Colonel had to leave to be with his sick father. With him, however, he had the cards with all the staff members’ names, who is escorting whom, and their ranks, which have to called out for the march. As Battalion Commander, remaking this list fell to Dulin. Second problem: out of seven staff members, only three, I repeat three were there. That is a major embarrassment. And Ross’ date, who is Dulin’s ex-girlfriend, failed to show up until after the march. She’s such a little bitch. This left Dulin with an incomplete list until the very last moment, and left Ross marching with LaJuina’s little sister, who’s name we forget to change on the card and was announced to be Dulin’s ex rather than her own name.

None of the military guys from Harding would dance, of course, because they lack “the rhythm”. Ross was dragged out there by Dulin’s ex and her sister, however, and I’m told the whole thing is caught on tape. I plan on finding it. In case this doesn’t seem like a big deal, allow me to explain. People dress up in formal gear and dress-uniforms (or the normal ones if you’re just in JROTC), then go to the ball to do what is generally called by white people “booty-dancing”. It seems very much like sex with no clothing removed, although there are reports of flying underwear at the last two military balls.

Neither Dulin nor I took part in this, so we walked around the entire night, chatting and laughing, and generally having fun. My throat felt like a conflagration was going on in there and I think I was quite hoarse, but my ears were clogged, so it was hard to tell. We finally got to leave at 9:30, in order to go see a movie. So I changed clothes in the back of Dulin’s car, and we all watched as Dulin changed in LaJuina’s van (the light in the ceiling wouldn’t go off). I left a five dollar bill in the windshield wiper for him for the show, which he took.

After this, I decided that I wanted to go home, because I was feeling worse and worse, and didn’t think I would make it through a movie (which I didn’t want to see anyway). So I called my mother and asked her to pick me up at the theater across town. It’s a long drive, and it’s already 10 o’clock. We visit Steak and Shake while waiting, and everyone (minus me) drinks a shake. Five minutes before we go to meet my mother, LaJuina says, “Oh, you know, we could just go back to my place and watch movies instead of doing this.” LaJuina lives about 10 minutes from my house. I wanted to smack her. She had let my mother drive all the way across town when we could have been going that way anyway. *Sigh*. So I climbed in my mother’s car and went home.

I woke up this morning feeling worse than ever. I’ve already planned to miss Monday and Tuesday on the suggestion of my pharmacist, who told me there is no point to going to a doctor, as it will pass in about 7 days anyway. He’s preaching to the converted, as I haven’t been to the doctor in about two years, maybe. I would rather wait until I get pneumonia or something else serious so that I won’t have an immunity to the drugs in use when I have to get treatment. I also hate being weighed. I can be depressed enough about my weight without knowing the exact numbers, thankyouverymuch.

So I’m now going to play a little Diablo and do a little homework. Au revoir.