get in the limo: daughter fish!

you KNOW i'm wearing a tiara tonight... are you attending?  you just might get one too....

woooEEE, it's good to be back on the east coast, even if it's virtually!  it's time to grab my homegirl christine of daughter fish.  when i read her first ever post, i said something like PLEASE DON'T STOP POSTING.  luckily for all of us, she didn't.   and even more lucky for moi, we've stomped, drunk, and eaten around new york together many times and solemnly swear to do so again... but for now, get in this virtual ride, mizz fish!

Happy birthday, Oona! For this promaballoona extravaganza I racked my brain trying to remember what the heck happened at my prom. You see, large chunks of the evening seem to be missing from my memory. I figured this must be the inevitable result of time passing. After all, if it weren’t for Facebook, I probably wouldn’t remember what 95 percent of my high school peers looked like. 

But then, I found this:

My mom made my dress, I do remember that much. It was silk and I vaguely remember spilling something on it at dinner. I don’t know where my date’s face went, though. Pictures also prove that I wore this dress to Homecoming. 

I expected these pictures to bring a flood of warm, feel-good high school memories. But still, nothing came. Curious, I dug out my high school journal, and discovered a major clue to the memory loss. I’ll save you from the long, unedited version. Here, just an excerpt.

10:09 p.m.

Last night at this time I was at my last high school prom….we had a big party afterwards, at a beach house we all chipped in to rent. There was a lot of alcohol and I drank far too much. I had a grand old time from 1 a.m. to 3 a.m., then I was puking and put to bed. I got pretty wild and now have whiplash! I even woke up drunk.

Me in my new prom dress. It's vintage, which was sort of my style in high school. And, of course, I'm drinking (while reading my journal).

A grand old time? Whiplash? Really? I sounded like a geriatric alcoholic. I began to consider whether, perhaps, I had had a problem in high school. Then it dawned on me that this journal excerpt sounds suspiciously like my wedding reception. Whiplash? Check! Puking the next morning? You betcha! Only hazy memories of the party? Absolutely! No, I don’t have a problem. It’s just, when I go big, I GO BIG!

So Oona, be warned. When you’re back east side of the continent, we’ve got to go big for your birthday! Can you handle it?

YOU KNOW IT.  can we skip the whiplash part though?  'kthnxseeyouinamonth!!!!!  

we've got one more globetrotter to pick up before this pink party pops up at its promaballoona destination... see you there IRL as the kids say, and if you're celebrating virtually be sure to document and shoot me a link of YOUR party, the wrapup limo is being waxed as we speak..............................................................................
come back tonight for the very last and FABULOUS installment in this cruise down memory lane!   


  1. love the story.. and your vintage dress is to die for.. i wish i have diaries, my memory has insanely short expiry date

  2. Look how gorgeous the young Miss Fish looks in these photos! What a sophisticated dress!

  3. Thanks, Mokosha!:) And Ginger, it was all my mom's doing on the sophistication side!

  4. I have serious hair envy. I'd punch a small child to have the hair of either Daughter Fish or the lovely Oona herself. Just thought I'd put that out there!

    1. LMAO!!! I was thinking "Damn, those are good curls!" when I looked at the pics!

  5. This post is another reminder that I might have squandered my youthful drunken nights!

  6. Love your vintage prom dress! Nothing like drinking some wine and taking a walk down memory lane...

  7. The vintage prom dress is DIVINE. And I love your journal entry! Whiplash?! That sounds intense and epic - go big or go home!!

  8. lol. wonder if there is a limo like the one in the picture.


i thankya truly for taking the time to comment, i love a good conversation-- and hope you know my thanks are always implied, if not always written!