2001-03-11

Cheese

When Irene was a student at a large university somewhere in Texas, she was acquainted with a number of well-coiffed debutante-types who hailed from the families of prominent lawyers, doctors and former Texas governers, and whose middle names were more often than not the maiden names of their mothers. Many of these girls were perfectly lovely Texas flowers, cordial and somewhat unhealthily interested in the love lives of others. A few, though, as we shall see, did their very best to reinforce the stereotype of the haughty, nasty deb. Like Pammy.

Irene didn't come from a whole lot of money, but that's not the point. Irene has always been a sweatshirt-and-jeans kind of girl -- Irene likes to be comfortable. During college, most of Irene's time was spent in the theater, where she was studying Stage Management. If you've ever had any experience in this area, you know that wearing one's best clothes is a silly, and often risky, undertaking.

This is not to say that Irene didn't have a few nice ensembles to wear to parties and such. She had a classic "little black dress" to that end, and it had served her well.

One night, Irene noticed Pammy observing her with a pursed, amused expression. She tottered over to Irene and her friends and said, "Y'know, Irene...that dress is so adorable on yew; ah can see why you wear it so much..."

Too stunned to reply to this unbelievable act of rudeness, Irene simply went and got herself another beer.

As it turned out, no retort was needed. Pammy had abundant blonde hair, and a habit of bending at the waist, throwing all of this hair over and in front, and then flipping it back to restore its buoyancy. At this point, Pammy threw her massive hair forward, a large portion of it landing, unbeknownst to her, into the quesadilla dip, and when she tossed her mane back (with a barely-perceptible whinny), the dip hit her square in the ass.

Just desserts, or just Velveeta? You make the call...

In other news, Paula and I hit an all-time low in our beverage consumption history when, during Sub-Pars practice last night, we mixed Malibu coconut rum with Dr. Pepper. Made me feel cheap and silly and as if I needed to be back in the dorm by midnight.

Ever have one of those nights when you wake up in panic, wondering if there are pictures of you standing with your mother, wearing something that looks like it came out of a bad college production of A Midsummer Night's Dream? Oh, wait...

lisamcc at 15:51:31

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