In Provotown, I live in my own little bubble of happy-go-luckiness
where the shorts are to the knees and the Diet Cokes are caffeine free
(I realize I’m exhausting this subject). In my little bubble, handfuls
of pregnant people roam the aisles of Macy’s frozen food section at
midnight and restaurants are closed on Sundays. In my little bubble,
eyes are trained to look at the left ring finger and coming from a
family of eight is no longer a gut-buster.
With all that said, during my power-vacation back to Moscow, I
thought a little Provo-detox was in order; I was losing my edge and
beginning to coo over precious things like kittens and babies and cringe
at the sound of curse words that used to make me giggle. I felt like my
life was turning into a mini-Disneyland(without lines and inevitable
family freakouts, even!).
Thus(!), the Real College Experience. Thus, Stubblefield’s Summer Fun
Foam Party. A Thursday night filled with smutty outfits, provocative
dancing, and…foam. College, Real college.
At 9:00, I began searching for my perfect clubbing outfit that would
highlight my best features: my personality and intellect. I decided on
khaki shorts that hit just above the knee and a black shirt with some
gladiators achieving the ‘risque-tourist’ look that I wasn’t aiming for.
I then contemplated brushing my hair, applied 4 layers of mascara, and
swiped on deodorant, for good measure. Watch out, Stubblefields!
10:00 rolled around and I was truly ready to get down. Granted I had
been for the last hour; my naivety to The Real College Experience became
apparent–when did all fun things commence after 11?
Finally, 11. As I drove over there with my burly crew in tow, I began
brainstorming ways of incorporating the foam into my sexy dance moves.
When we arrived at 11:20, I was highly intimidated. So many legs, so
many midriffs, so much…foam. I knew I had to act cool and quickly headed
toward the dance floor where I rotated through my only known salacious
dance moves that included a lot of popping, locking, jazz hands and The
Overbite.
From 11:20-1:45 I stared at lots at couples on the dance floor, in
the cages, and on the couches. I also choked on the foam(incorporating
foam into my dance moves: fail.) repeatedly. I averaged around seven
panicked bathroom trips where I covered the toilet in three layers of
toilet paper and checked my favorite mommy blogs.
In other words, my early bedtime habits, fear of tight spaces, and
knack for being The Anti-Sexy are clearly not suitable to The Real
College Experience. I’m just too lame.
In other words, I am headed back to my Provotown tonight. And I will
be sipping caffeine-free Diet Coke(lie) and singing Disney show tunes
the whole way back(serious lie).
Disclaimer: this post was a little exaggerated. Provotown really isn’t that Disney. And I’m not really that un-sexy; well, maybe.
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be nice?