Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," a fun and friendly little space where we celebrate sex (good fun if proper family planning items are used), long for drugs (they're illegal, alas), and tolerate rock 'n' roll (bluegrass is better).
Today's a big day in Stepford. Everyone's talking about the Senior Prom, scheduled to begin tonight at 6:00 p.m.
As every parent knows, prom nights can give you a major case of the jitters. There's no escaping that nagging feeling that your well-maintained offspring may do something regrettable.
If you're one of those mega-church ladies, and we've talked about them before, you are just walking a groove into the floor. Biff, Jr. is going to the prom, and he's taking that achingly cute little blonde he met last summer at Bible Camp. Only trouble is, she's not from this state, and you've heard rumors that her parents are pro-union Democrats and that they grow cannabis behind the double-wide trailer. So how deep does that cute little blonde's faith go? You haven't had a chance to question her at length. Biff assures you that she's as straight-edged as he is, and that he's saving himself for marriage. But two weeks ago, while snooping relentlessly in his room, you found a picture of the blonde cutie, wearing a string bikini, under a loose floorboard in his bedroom.
Oh, the agony! The uncertainty! Will he remain faithful to his faith? Will he hear the call of God as that luscious little blonde temptress places her soft hand into his and gazes into his eyes? You can't be there to guide him. Will God do the job, or will Biff fall into sin?
This is the time when your prayer group comes in handy, except that two of them have daughters who've gotten pregnant out of wedlock. Something tells you they won't be able to offer you much solace.
So you walk the floor, and you pray. Please, God, lead him not into temptation!
(Am I the only one who's ever wondered about that line in the Lord's Prayer? Why would God lead us into temptation? Some sort of celestial Survivor challenge, I guess.)
Let's turn to another parental paradigm.
You're a Kept Woman, and we've talked about them before, too. You are also walking a groove in the floor. The reason? Well, you've stocked the vacation house with plenty of booze, and you think you know all the friends and their dates that Kieran, Jr. has invited to join him there after the prom. So they're all going to be safe in that vacation house, getting drunk and not driving, having sex with condoms and otherwise behaving responsibly. You've even stocked the refrigerator with Pillsbury cinnamon rolls that Kieran can make his friends for breakfast. Then why are you worried? Because you're breaking the @#$@#@ law, that's why! Kieran, Jr. is not 21, his friends are not 21, and their dates are not 21.
But you can't have them out drinking and driving. They're going to drink. You know it. You recall your own prom, when you were dating that hot, motorcycle-riding, trouble-making, dead sexy alpha male, the one you had the sense to throw over for Kieran Sr., who owns a real estate conglomerate.
So you walk the floor, but you don't believe in God, that's for morons.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!! I'm laughing! My fairies are laughing! My floor is groove-less and my spirits high!
My freshman daughter is going to the Senior Prom ... with a girl.
(Please pardon us for a moment. The Church Mom and the Kept Woman both just fainted.)
Okay, it's like this. My awesomely intelligent and beautiful daughter, The Heir, made several good friends in the senior class at her school. Come prom time, these girls decided they didn't want to spend big bucks and a whole long evening with some dudes they didn't know, who might get fresh or at the very least stain the furniture. So they boldly decided to make the Senior Prom a "girls' night out." They invited The Heir to go along, and she does love to dress up. They're going in a limo. None of them drink. And I can't vouch for the rest of them, but The Heir is straight -- she's just looking forward to a fun evening.
So I'll put the prom night jitters on the shelf for a few years, and then my other daughter, The Spare, will come along and make me a basket case. But just for tonight, I know one prom princess who won't be drinking, won't be ... ummm ... you know, that other thing, and won't come home three days from now, high on magic mushrooms.
Enjoy your day, prom moms.
ANNE, GOAT JUDGE EXTRAORDINAIRE