A Dazzling Holidazzle

December 7th, 2002 Comments Off on A Dazzling Holidazzle

Helloooo, dahlings. Hah-vahd Jennifer here today. Jenny, it would appear, is still in bed nursing a cheap red wine hangover (not very CWIT of her, I declare), so I am here to report on the events of Holidazzle, otherwise known as the HBS holiday ball. ‘Tis a lovely, lovely event. A wee bit early in the evening, which necessitated rushing home from work so that meticulous care could be used in putting on make-up and curling hair. Of course, since Jenny is not one to plan ahead, she didn’t actually own a curling iron, and she frantically sent Adam to the drugstore to get one, because it was infinitely easier than getting her hair cut, which she should have done weeks ago, I tell you! Anyhoo, despite Jenny’s insistence on a dress from the clearance rack (can you believe she was bragging that it only cost $16.99 marked down from $140. I tried to intervene–no need for anyone to think it cost a penny less than $200, but she stepped on my toes to shut me up), we arrived looking splendiforous. Adam was quite dashing in his tuxedo. Such a low CWIT moment–Adam owns his own tuxedo, but I, I do not even have a curling iron. How am I ever supposed to be up to snuff as a CWIT? But where was I? The cocktail hour was brief, as we were a bit late and the coat check line was horribly long. When we entered, our ids were checked and our hands were stamped, and can you believe it? They insisted on stamping me with red ink, even thought I told them it wouldn’t go with my blue dress. Horrifying!

Then we had dinner. While the party was for all of HBS, dinner was just for the first years and we all divided up by section (remember our section? Absolut A! Absolut Heaven, is what they should really call themselves). Sat at a lovely table. I truly tried to enjoy the evening’s festivities, but it was quite hard when Jenny was so hell bent on (oooh, pardon my language), as she kept muttering, “dulling the pain.” I believe she also said something about the darling couple next to her who didn’t drink and that she “would dull the pain for them too” as she reached yet again for the bottle. My theory is nurse one drink throughout the evening so you can be on hand when your husband needs you. You know, to laugh at his jokes, to help make witty conversation, and to assist him when he’s had one too many. I’m afraid Adam may be doing well at HBS, but Jenny is going to be put back a year in CWIT training. To continue, dinner was a tempting chicken meal–and for once there were no annoying choices to clutter my brain. Thank goodness! Chicken or nothing! I don’t know what those silly vegetarians have to complain about. So, as we battled–I mean, ate–our chickens, we were cleverly entertained by the section. Once again an outstanding medley, although, I’m afraid, the acoustics made it a wee bit difficult to hear the lyrics. Of course, us CWITs wouldn’t understand all of the references, but then, we don’t have to. As long as our husbands understand. There’s nothing like seeing a room of elegantly dressed adults standing on their chairs and hooting to bawdy songs. So refreshing! Brought me right back to my college days. Sigh. How I miss those fraternity parties. After the music, each table was encouraged to write a limerick. Oh, you know limericks, don’t you? Those oh-so-clever five lined poems? Many of them were quite smart, and I didn’t understand one bit why Jenny got so huffy when one of the poems made mention of a female classmate’s “fine rack” or another referred to a woman classmate’s ass. (Again, pardon the language, but limericks can get a wee bit off color.) And the fun didn’t stop there! Next came a Section A version of Family Feud! The section had been polled before the event for the answers, so you just know how witty the questions were going to be! I know, I know, you’re thinking this is simply too much fun for one night, but it’s so refreshing when the entertainment just goes on and on and on. We didn’t mind one bit that just behind the closed door of our section dinner, we could hear the music of the dance floor or the tittering of people enjoying the open bar. I just couldn’t stop Jenny, when during the Family Feud question about who’s significant others really were the “better half,” she hissed to Adam, “This is so demeaning,” especially as women were named and then given the great big Family Feud X. Personally, I think she should be so grateful to have made the list. And I was even more grateful that when they gave her name as an answer, they said, “Jenny, Mrs. Tech Rep,” which apparently she is okay with. Can you imagine the fuss she would have made in there if they had called her Mrs. Medros? Oh, I shudder to even think of it! Of course, Jenny sat fuming at the whole thing for five minutes before it occurred to her to lean over and whisper to Adam–I swear I tried to stop her–“Did you put me down for that answer?” I’m just praying to the good lord above that no one saw her slug him when he said, “No.” He insists he left that question blank because he knew it would annoy her. And then she fumed for a good ‘nother hour because she wasn’t sure if she should be pleased or angry that he didn’t answer the question.

Anyhoo, the games, sadly, ended, and we joined the rest of HBS. We joined some darling friends, only I was humiliated–humiliated, I tell you–when I saw I was the only one without a manicure, never mind a pedicure. Terrible, dahlings, simply terrible! One dear friend, who Jenny rudely promised to mock mercilessly as a CWIT, actually went and had her hair and make-up professionally done. Oh, how I wanted to cry in embarrassment at my utter lack of CWIT behavior. Really, in the future, I’m going to have to lock Jenny away when I get ready for these events. The bar at this time was out of red wine and they had no water–after all Hah-vahd boys are too good for water–so to my embarrassment, Jenny began drinking from a Bud bottle. Please! Beer is only for Fourth of July picnics and then only from a glass and never domestic. This girl will never learn. By this time, Adam wanted to dance, and as the dutiful wife, I tried, oh, how I tried, but Jenny drunkenly began insisting that she didn’t feel so well. So after one trip to the ice cream bar, we departed for home. True, it was a tad early–not even midnight–although it was late enough that couples were beginning to snog on the dance floor and a few CWITs were whisking off their overly drunk husbands. So we made it home, where Jenny crumpled her chi-chi clearance dress formal on the floor, climbing into bed with a resounding, “Ugh,” leaving poor Adam to hang the clothes and bring her water and aspirin. That girl is never going to make it in the real world. Well, the fun is over for the moment, and dahlings, I’m afraid I must dash off and take care of some womanly duties (laundry, cleaning, you know. The things the housekeeper will do once we get a live-in). Ta ta!

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