We Didn't Start the Fire

Rather than catching up on the homework I missed through this long weekend of revelry, I'm going to take this time to write about the revelry itself (and eat a hot fudge sundae).

The week turned out exactly as I predicted: history has been rewritten. (Pardon my melodrama.)
Thursday night at Chi Psi (like Chanukah, the Tau Kappa Epsilon Red Carnation Ball is more than one night), all of my questions were answered. You see, last saturday, after two baudy rounds of Scrabble, Jason told me that he was going to propose to Kristin at RCB. Of course, the first thing I wanted to do was tell someone--ANYONE--because secrets like that are way to good to keep secret. I really considered writing Kacie a letter that said "DON'T OPEN UNTIL FRIDAY," but I was afraid somehow it would slip and Kristin would find out. I think if I had ruined the surprise I'd have given myself guilt-induced coronary thrombosis.

So all week I've been freaking out (inwardly, so's not to expose anything), and hoping that Kristin wouldn't be struck mute and unable to say "yes!" She wasn't. She said yes and since everyone in the fraternity and their dates was in the room, there was this crazy pause, an audible gasp, and then a roar. I'll admit it- it was fantastic. And the pajamas helped.

It was also fantastic when Marcus introduced himself and his date, Adam, as the only bi-racial couple at this RCB. He gets funnier and funnier with each successive week, but maybe you had to be there to appreciate it.

The next best surprise was finding out that the lovely Amelia Harrell is this year's sweetheart. Now, not only are we all moving in together, and getting jobs at the same place, but we all get to be on a plaque picture and bake TKE cookies together. I know all good feminists are probably struggling with this one, but they've never thrown a costume party and invited me, or played Trivial Pursuit into the wee hours on a whim. And lest anyone think that any of us is a bad person for loving the boys and volunteering for the dirty work of making banners and treats pour eux, just remember that Amy is the reason Centenary recycles, Kacie has never taken any crap from anyone, and I... honestly I think I got it because I carry around a tool kit and like to paint things.

Anyhoo--all of this led up to a fantastically drama-free RCB in Dallas at the Aristocrat Hotel. It never stopped raining ONCE, but we went out nonetheless. Friday night my camera fell out of the taxi and into the rushing gutter and shattered into seventy million pieces, but I repaired it with Tim's magical surgical tape. Somehow, by the grace of God, it still works (with photographic evidence to prove it).

Abram, Jessica, Kristin, Jason, Tim and I walked to the Dallas Museum of art on Saturday and tried not to drip on the paintings. We succeeded. I took this picture for Tim's mom, without whom I would have no idea who Chihuly is. Those jelly-fish looking hanging bits are actually huge blown-glass sculptures.

Saturday evening was the actual ball and about that I have only one negative comment, and that is that different gravies should not be mixed on one plate. Beyond that, everyone and everything was just great. It felt so good to just be around everyone in a brilliant mood and fancy clothes.

Oh yeah, and that dress is the one that makes me cry to look at it.

I'm so glad just to be here and to be invited to such things. When I came to college I imagined that I'd buckle down and make all sort of intellectual achievements alone in a dark library. What an idiot. Thank God I have friends cool enough to be addicted to.

P.S.> Come to the Gender Studies Conference this weekend and participate in our round table and we'll give you the secret to gender equality.