Wednesday, April 05, 2006
In case you have been clinically dead for the last month (or are not a Wash U student, which in any case, means the same thing) Art Prom was last saturday. I decided to go at the last minute. At 10pm, I slapped on my tightest corset and highest heels, lined my eyes, and ran to the B-school to meet Zi and Hubert, my consorts for the evening.
It was a good time. I won't detail the goings on, but this picture pretty much covers it:
That, and I vaguely remember standing on the front lawn of the Magic House (a children's museum), swinging my brassiere around my head, screaming "I'M GOING TO BURN MY BRA! I'M GONNA BURN MY FUCKING BRA!!!! WHO HAS A LIGHT?" The spectators cheered. Some guy had a book of matches. And lo, the bra was burned, and I struck a heartfelt blow against the patriarchy.
"Soused" isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.
