Oh, the ball
Oh._____My._____Dear.______Sweet.______Lord.
I loved, loved, loved the Snow Ball!
Words can't express how much fun it was, but since that is the medium I am using, they will have to suffice. This is going to go down as one of my most favorite New Year's Eves. Ever.
First, Maryanne, Sarah, and I ate a delicious dinner at their place, punctuated with my squeals of delight since I Love the 80s was on. I don't get VH1, and I miss it. Sorely. And I love them eighties, and every video that they showed was greeted with an, "Oh my God! I love this song!" (And the "Oh my God" portion is in my Chris Farley voice. Just to give you an accurate reading.)
Then we all changed into our finest Snow Ball apparel and headed out. Oh, but first, I made the ladies (not those ladies) pose for pictures. This is why I can't ever have kids: I will mortify them on prom night.
So, at the ball, the DJs were trying to go decade by decade through the music. When we got there, it was a lot of big band stuff and all these cute old couples were cuttin' a rug. The real dancing began, though, when they hit the 50s and 60s. I would say that every third song was Elvis and every fourth or fifth was The Beatles. Every time an Elvis song would go on, some crazy lady in the back would scream. It went something like this:
"Whooooooo-hoooooooooooo! He is THE KING!"
Damn, that crazy lady, as it turns out, was me.
And, be prepared to gasp everyone, I got out on the dance floor. I did the twist. Oh yes. Like I did last summer. And when they played "Shout!", almost everyone at the ball was on the dance floor and Maryanne and I reenacted the Animal House scene. Sans togas.
Highlights from the night: I decided that next year I will emcee the event. Their emcee sucked, and if you want entertainment, just hand me a microphone. I love me a good mic. I also found my DJ for the next ball, the owner of my favorite store in Palouse (whom Maryanne and Sarah think looks like a pirate). I won a door prize. I was *assaulted* by a hula hoop. I was propositioned by a cute little old man. We got Sarah out on the dance floor. When we all grabbed our noise-makers and other assorted New Year's Eve thingies, the comment was heard, "I don't think I'm blowing hard enough." Good gracious, you'd better blow hard at the Snow Ball.
Oh, and buyer's remorse be damned. I kept the dress. And it kicked ass by the truckload.
I also received four drunk-dial voice-mails from three different friends in two different time zones. So belated "Happy New Year!" to all of you.
That's all I got. Maybe Maryanne and Sarah can add in their memories of the evening. Oh wait, one final thing: the evening ended with a big group of us at the mayor's house. I hung out with the mayor. Don't know why, but that tickled me.
I loved, loved, loved the Snow Ball!
Words can't express how much fun it was, but since that is the medium I am using, they will have to suffice. This is going to go down as one of my most favorite New Year's Eves. Ever.
First, Maryanne, Sarah, and I ate a delicious dinner at their place, punctuated with my squeals of delight since I Love the 80s was on. I don't get VH1, and I miss it. Sorely. And I love them eighties, and every video that they showed was greeted with an, "Oh my God! I love this song!" (And the "Oh my God" portion is in my Chris Farley voice. Just to give you an accurate reading.)
Then we all changed into our finest Snow Ball apparel and headed out. Oh, but first, I made the ladies (not those ladies) pose for pictures. This is why I can't ever have kids: I will mortify them on prom night.
So, at the ball, the DJs were trying to go decade by decade through the music. When we got there, it was a lot of big band stuff and all these cute old couples were cuttin' a rug. The real dancing began, though, when they hit the 50s and 60s. I would say that every third song was Elvis and every fourth or fifth was The Beatles. Every time an Elvis song would go on, some crazy lady in the back would scream. It went something like this:
"Whooooooo-hoooooooooooo! He is THE KING!"
Damn, that crazy lady, as it turns out, was me.
And, be prepared to gasp everyone, I got out on the dance floor. I did the twist. Oh yes. Like I did last summer. And when they played "Shout!", almost everyone at the ball was on the dance floor and Maryanne and I reenacted the Animal House scene. Sans togas.
Highlights from the night: I decided that next year I will emcee the event. Their emcee sucked, and if you want entertainment, just hand me a microphone. I love me a good mic. I also found my DJ for the next ball, the owner of my favorite store in Palouse (whom Maryanne and Sarah think looks like a pirate). I won a door prize. I was *assaulted* by a hula hoop. I was propositioned by a cute little old man. We got Sarah out on the dance floor. When we all grabbed our noise-makers and other assorted New Year's Eve thingies, the comment was heard, "I don't think I'm blowing hard enough." Good gracious, you'd better blow hard at the Snow Ball.
Oh, and buyer's remorse be damned. I kept the dress. And it kicked ass by the truckload.
I also received four drunk-dial voice-mails from three different friends in two different time zones. So belated "Happy New Year!" to all of you.
That's all I got. Maybe Maryanne and Sarah can add in their memories of the evening. Oh wait, one final thing: the evening ended with a big group of us at the mayor's house. I hung out with the mayor. Don't know why, but that tickled me.
posted by Ace | 10:55 AM
2 Comments:
Living it up in Pullman at the mayor's house. Now that's a par-tay!
The New Year's Eve drunk dialing is a time-honored tradition. Since I didn't call, here's my belated, "Acshe! Dude, have a great New Yearsh! Whoo!"
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