It just so happens that I'm not the only one in my family with quick wit, an incredible wardrobe, and an IQ that would make Einstein's head spin. This may be hard to believe, but my darling cousin Royar, author of the fabulous Young Southern Prep, outshines me in all three areas. She also happens to be stuck at a prep school where everyone pretty much sucks. Luckily, unapologetically mocking people is one of our favorite family pastimes. Relish her guest post below about the joys of frenemies...and being completely better than everyone else.
|That's my girl on the right|
One of the greatest high school experiences is going to parties with your best friends and meeting gorgeous new boys. My BFF, H and I had been looking forward our friend's 16th birthday party. Two of our "pseudo" friends were also invited, one of whom was dating H’s ex. H and I both knew it was going to be a trainwreck, so (naturally) we both prepared accordingly. Devilish good looks? Check. Killer dresses? Check. Blackberry and iPhone 4 fully charged? Check. Camera for documenting the evidence? Check. We arrived fashionably late (although I may or may have not told H’s Dad that we couldn’t be “Tardy To The Party”), put our gifts on the table, set our clutches down in another room (H may or may not have had to wrestle my Blackberry out of my arms), and we walked back out to the party.
H and I have a “special relationship” with one of our friends K. We both kinda think that she’s a white-trash whore, but we’re still friends, because hey, white-trash whores need friends too. So we get out to the party and K introduces us to everyone. I of course, being the Southern Belle I was raised to be, shook every gentleman’s hand. K made some snide comment about me and the classy, proper way I live my life, and I just smiled kindly. Let's review: who was dancing with all the boys at the end of the night and got pictures with all of them? That’s what I thought. By the way, quit pulling up your dress every five seconds, that’s why you don’t wear strapless dresses. You look like a two-cent hooker. But I digress.
K and her friend KK (don’t ask) decided it would be fun to um..."dance"...with boys who just happened to not be their boyfriends...and so the fun of the night truly began. This story could take hours to tell, so I will sum it up. We all started dancing, pictures were asked for, H got my camera, snapped a few and told me to “stick it in my magic carpet bag” aka my bra. (Don’t act like you’ve never done it either.) The pictures mysteriously ended up on Facebook...and the rest (and their relationships) are history. Woops.
So the moral of these stories are: don’t take pictures in compromising positions and/or situations, take a reality check with your life often and always have your Blackberry ready. Yes, this is my life, and no, you can’t live it.