Blueberry Yogurt

My junior prom, I have deduced, was like blueberry yogurt. I liked the idea of it, and it had good intentions, but it left a nasty aftertaste. Plus, there were no real tans, nails, in some cases hair, etc. as there were no real blueberries to be found in my rather disappointing unrecyclable container of yog- mush. However, I am happy to say that I had no part in the creation of either. Prom around here is the most overrated event of the year, but, of course, this being my big JUNIOR PROM and all, I decided to go, and later successfully guilt-tripped Ben in to accompanying me. Sadly, the dj was terrible, as all of his musical selections were skipping or just refusing to play, and, while the junior court attempted to trick us into believing we were dancing the night away at a suaree in a James Bond flick, we were, in all actuality, still in a highschool gym. I have to give them credit for trying, though. I highly doubt any friend of James Bond would be as tasteful as to get a balloon fountain.

The battle of the bands was great, and ended as predicted. Bold Minority won. They deserved it. I really wish I had had my video camera with me. It never really sunk in that it was their last (as in final) show. Pretty soon it'll be a last time for a lot of things...

Oh well, I've got spanish and APUSH tests to study for. And maybe I'll go eat some icecream...