la Ketch

my life story

Friday, September 23, 2005

every body run - part 2

Being on the Homecoming Court was the most ridiculous, long and drawn out circus I have ever been a part of. I couldn’t believe how over the top it was even when it was happening. You had to get like 10 outfits, one for each separate event. It was like being in Miss America. I thought the whole thing was completely stupid. But that didn't stop me from wanting to win.

First they get everyone on the court together and talk about how it’s all going to go down. There’s this volunteer librarian who is like out of the Stepford Wives or something and she walks you through it, tells you what to expect. She pretends that it’s all such a big honor and that we are all very special people because we are so fucking popular. She is ridiculous. We got lessons on etiquette, table manners, which fork to use, etc. because part of it is that you have to sit and have a formal dinner with the judges. Also, you have to write an essay that is the story of your life. As you can imagine, mine was quite long and I had trouble editing it. Eventually, I did get it down to an acceptable length and it ended up being one of the more impressive life stories read. Pretty much because of the tragedy. It was the most dramatic and it got me major dead dad sympathy points.

The horrible thing is that one of the other people on the court, one of the guys, his mother had been murdered by his father when he was a little boy, in a very gruesome way and had watched it happen and everyone knew about this. He was adopted by the Priest of the most popular Presbyterian Church in town and had been living as a member of his family ever since. He was and I’m sure still is, one of the funniest people I have ever known in my life. He was a much better person than I will ever be because he had developed this sense of humor that was so razor sharp, it could cut through anything life handed to him. I felt so badly for him because he couldn’t talk about his tragedy in his life story essay. It was too gruesome and it would make everyone feel bad. He kept asking me, “How can I talk about this?” He wasn’t really able to find a good way to do it and consequently, he missed out on his dead mom sympathy points because the judges came from a different town and they weren’t familiar with his situation. I think he didn’t win King because he just sort of came across as this funny jokester. He made everyone laugh but they wanted someone with DEPTH. Luckily, I was really, really, really deep.

Homecoming Festivities Breakdown:

Thursday night:

Dinner with the judges (OUTFIT ONE: I wore a white silk suit, skirt and heels with pearl accessories, my hair was very long and straight again. The other girls all had perms) The dinner took place at the only fancy restaurant in town. You sat with your partner and the judges rotated asking you various questions as they went along and making notes on how you responded and which fork you used.

Coronation Ceremony (OUTFIT TWO: I wore this really great dress actually, very different from everyone else because I borrowed it from my cousin in California. She wore it to her own homecoming coronation the year before. It was black and strapless. It came to my knees but it had this like bustle attached to the back which was really a train that went all the way to the floor and drug behind me. It sounds stupid but it was really beautiful. Most importantly, it was very different than what the other girls were wearing which were huge, brightly colored, puffy dresses.) The whole school comes to this. You have to walk from the back of the gym up to the stage and while you are walking someone reads your life story that you wrote, in first person, sort of like a voice over as you are walking. You have to walk very, very slowly because it is long. When you get to the stage, they ask you a question and you have to answer it. Then the judges go away, the Jazz Chior sings some songs and the the judges come back out and announce the winner.

Friday afternoon:

Pep Assembly (OUTFIT 3: I wore light blue acid wash Guess Jeans with zippers on the side. White high top Reebok tennis shoes and a white angora sweater with some pink and blue designs on it. It was starting to get chilly). I could barely sit and be a part of it because I was running around backstage with a walkie talkie barking orders at everyone. When it was my turn to come out I was like, “Cue the Queen, Cue the Queen and GO Queen!” “Um, that’s you La Ketch.” “Oh yeah. Shit!” Then I walked out. Mostly people cheered for me but I could hear a few boos. A smattering of them. This should have been my first clue that I had enemies. My first warning to watch my step.

Parade (SAME OUTFIT) Everyone on the court rode in convertibles, with our names printed in big letters on posters hanging off the side. I rode with the King and on the side of our car it said, “Homecoming King (his name) and Queen La Ketch”. I wore the crown and carried flowers. We waved at the crowd (elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, wrist…).

Friday Night:

The Big Game: (SAME OUTFIT) I was AWOL for the game because I was back at the gym decorating for the dance. We were planning on getting to the game before half time for the festivities but the clock in the gym was wrong and I miss calculated the time. They announced the “Homecoming King” he came out and when they announced the “Homecoming Queen” I did not come out. This was before the avid use of cell phones and no one knew where I was. The King had to ride around the field in a convertable by himself. Rumors were flying about my whereabouts. My mom was freaking. She thought I had been killed. The other girls on the court were probably praying that I had been killed that they would have another shot at it. When I finally did show up, they let me march on to the field between plays with a microphone. I said, “I’m so sorry everyone but in addition to being your Homecoming Queen, I am also the Student Body President and I was at the gym decorating for the dance tomorrow. The clock was wrong and I miscalculated the time. If there is anyone that isn’t doing anything tonight, we could sure use your help transforming the gym into ‘Cinderella’s Ball’. Come on out and help!” Then I went back to the gym and continued to decorate.

Saturday Night:

The Dance (OUTFIT FOUR: I wore a black velvet strapless dress that had a huge hot pink bow at the waist. I curled my hair to look like Barbie) I ended up going to the dance with a friend of mine. He was super sweet, a quiet guy. The problem was that his girlfriend, who was three years older and in college, had been killed in a drinking and driving accident two days before the dance. He decided to go anyway but needless to say, he was a little down. It was a very sad situation. He was nice to go with me anyway but he said like two words all night. I couldn’t believe he went. I just kept asking him, “Are you okay? Do you want to leave?” and he would say, “I’m fine. No, I’ll stay.” The other sort of sad thing that happened at the dance was that at one point the court comes out and dances to the theme song (“When You Wish Upon a Star” as sung by Jiminy Cricket of course). I danced with the King and all of the other court people danced with someone on the court. After this, there was another dance and all of guys dance with their moms and all the girls danced with their dads. I didn’t have a dad and no one asked me to dance so I just stood there for a second and then, I walked away. The next year my sister was on the Senior Prom Court and the same exact thing happened to her.

So it was four outfits total, not ten but I already told you about my propensity towards exaggeration, so you should have divided by two to get the actual number, which would have been five but that’s close enough.

I can’t write anymore today because my boss is giving me looks. Looks like, “Gee you are typing really fast for someone working on a spreadsheet.” I will write more tomorrow because I think I should probably go back now and color in the details of the Coronation Ceremony. That is where I actually was crowned and there is a lot of backstage backstabbing crap that you might find interesting. I will also run by you my theory on why I won which basically boils down to the fact that I didn’t have the IQ of a cabbage.


At 4:07 PM, Blogger Eve said...

This is ludicrous- you really do have to QUIT that pesky job!

This story is beyond excellent!


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