Stuck At Prom contest...

Those of you who follow me on the Facebook know that I've been actively canvassing for votes for this Duck Tape "Stuck at Prom" scholarship contest. In case you live under a rock, here's what you've missed.

17's friend Bailey entered this contest sponsored by the Duck Tape brand and she actually made her prom gown, all accessories AND her date Tim's tux COMPLETELY out of Duck Tape. And trust me, I saw it up close and personal and it was EPIC. See for yourself:

Photo taken by the amazingly talented James Turner

Look at the dress detail!

So here's where I need your help, Snarklings. Bailey and Tim have made it to the final round of voting, which ends on July 8. They are in the top ten and need your votes!  The top prize for this contest is a $10,000 scholarship for each of them PLUS our high school will receive $5,000. How awesome is that? But as I said, THEY NEED VOTES!!

I'm doing one last push to help them reach number one in the voting! Please click this Duck Tape Stuck at Prom link and vote. Multiple email addresses are allowed, so what I do is vote with my main email address, then copy the link into an incognito window and vote using my other email addresses. Please help out our friends because who COULDN'T use a $10,000 college scholarship??

Bailey worked her butt off on this dress, Tim's tux and all the accessories, and we'd LOVE to see them take the top prize. So thank you in advance, Snarklings, for your votes. And PLEASE PLEASE share the link as well, the more votes the better their chances at the scholarships!

Vote for Bailey & Tim here

Just so you know, I was not compensated at all for this post by Bailey, Tim or the Duck Tape brand. I just really want to see our friends win this thing! If it sells more tape, good for them!

Then I got stuck in a dress at Goodwill...

Totally not kidding.

Many of you know that I'm going to a blogging conference next Friday. It's BlogU 14 and unless you live under a rock or it's your first time here, you know what I'm talking about. I've been tweeting and Facebooking about it for months now, in an attempt to win back my registration costs. Aside from the chance to win some cash, I'm truly excited about going to this conference.

It'll be my first blogging conference and there are so many hilarious ladies (and one awesome dude) that will be there, it's like a veritable buffet of laughs and coolness.

But there is one dark side to this whole thing. On Wednesday, I almost died. Yes, it's true. Because of my love for this conference, I nearly lost my life. Let me explain.

I had asked my friend Tonya to keep an eye out for 'retro-gowns' (think: big, poofy, 80's), so when she texted me Wednesday afternoon telling me that she had found the perfect dress for me at Goodwill, I was all over it! She had them put the dress aside for me AND talked them down to just $20! I prayed this dress would fit, because I hate shopping for 'retro-gowns' (ok I've NEVER shopped for 'retro-gowns') and it would just be so much easier to have someone else find it for me.

After work, I headed to Goodwill, grabbed the dress and went into the dressing room. I took the montrosity off the hangar and lifted it over my head. I then struggled with the zipper until it was almost all the way up. SUCCESS! It (almost) FIT!! I was so glad that it fit that I took this pic while in the Goodwill dressing room:

Me, in all my pink poofy retro glory

It's floor-length, and so hot that I'm sure I will sweat my ass off, but it (almost) fit and I didn't have to go out looking for another dress, so I made the decision to buy it. Then I tried to get out of it. And that's when it happened. I came close to dying right then and there in the Goodwill dressing room. Seriously. I started sweating, my heart began to race and I had 9-1-1 on standby. When I was unzipping the dress, the gigantic, almost blanket-sized tag got caught in the zipper. See for yourself:

Giant tag caught in zipper, while the dress is on. I nearly died!

As you can see, I was in a bit of a pickle. I was wearing the dress, the zipper was on the opposite side of my body from my eyes and my hands so I was working blindly and pretty much having a heart attack. I said to myself: "Self, the first thing you're gonna do if you ever get out of this dress is CUT OFF THAT FUCKING TAG!" I convinced myself that it would be better to die alone in the dressing room than to die of embarrassment by having to ask someone at Goodwill to come into my dressing room and help get me out of this dress-of-death. So I went to my happy place (where there's wine and chocolate), slowed my breathing and concentrated on not dying. I took my arms out of the top of the dress and was able to turn the dress around just enough that I could see the tag in the zipper. I swear I could hear the tag laughing at me but that may have just been my imagination.

Eventually, I freed the tag from the zipper and cursed at it strongly before extricating myself from the dress without the use of the jaws of life. It was touch and go for awhile, and ultimately, I got myself a pretty cool dress for a really cheap price. 

I can't wait to wear it at BlogU 14 next weekend, and yes, as soon as I got it home, I made that tag my bitch. 

New series: I've Kissed A Lot of Frogs...

Starting today I'm going to begin a new series that I will write weekly regularly whenever I get off my ass and write it. The series is called "I've Kissed a Lot of Frogs" and it will feature various stories of all the jackasses losers jerks assbags fellas I dated before I found my one true love. Trust me. I've got a lot of stories to tell. Because seriously, I really HAVE kissed a lot of frogs.

In honor of 16's Prom this weekend I'm going to tell you the story of my senior prom date. I went with a guy that I was seeing, let's call him E. E's friends and my friends had all coupled up in the months leading up to the Prom, so we all went together. When E came to pick me up, he looked very handsome in his black tux, white shirt, black cummerbund and.... no socks. My mother was horrified. The guy was dressed to the nines with no socks.

Flash forward to the Prom. We had fun. My friend M and her boyfriend E (but a different E, not my E, so to avoid any further confusion, let's call them ME as a couple) had been together for quite awhile longer than the rest of us. M and I concocted a plan where we'd dress sexy under our gowns, and by sexy I mean thigh highs and garter belts. Hey, we were 17 and thought that's what guys liked. We didn't know we were about to be dressed like hookers. Anyway, I digress. After the prom, we all went to the hotel suite that we had all pitched in to rent.

We had some soda and chips, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT WE DRANK BACK THEN, MY DEAR DAUGHTERS, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, and had some fun. Then E and I retreated to the bedroom.

Up until that time, I was a good girl. I still had my virginity intact. But I was prepared to give it up to E that night, despite the fact that he wore no socks to my Prom. We were pretty close to sealing the deal when I came up with this hair-brained idea that he should probably wear a condom.  I know, it's crazy, right? I really didn't think I was asking too much. I mean, what 17 year old guy doesn't have a condom in his wallet?? It was the 80's for crying out loud! Well we bickered back and forth for a few minutes. He had a condom in his glove compartment in the car. But he didn't feel like going down to the car to get it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? He wanted ME to go down to his car and get his condom out of his glove compartment. Yes, read that sentence again. I'll wait. No. Freaking. Way.

Needless to say, no virginity was lost that night.

I DID, however, end up giving it to him later that summer, after graduation. (Shut up, I was young and stupid) This time, his condom was in his dresser drawer, so there was no bickering that night. However, that dresser was located in a bedroom in a house he shared with his grandmother. His 128 year old grandmother WHO WALKED IN ON US AS WE WERE BUMPING UGLIES. No lie, I died of embarrassment right there on the spot. Since she was 128, I'm not really sure she knew exactly what was going on, but that didn't matter. The deed was done and we were caught red-handed. That was my last contact with E. EVER.

So my first time was about as awesome as a root canal while giving birth with no pain killers. Stick around, the stories only get uglier as we go along.