Not that I'm bitter, but I didn't end up going to my prom. My boss offered me time and a half to work that night at Round Table Pizza and I decided that sounded better than dealing with the trauma of having to talk to a girl. Of course, about a dozen of the happy prom goers showed up early for pizza and I had to serve them in their tux's and prom dresses. Jackasses.

I remember hoping that Carrie would show up and kill them all, or at least that they would all get each other pregnant. Another warm childhood memory.

I looked up some prom disaster stories but they all seem to be about wardrobe malfunctions. Are high school girls really this lame? I think they need to spend a week in Haiti to help put their problems into perspective.

Anyway, Carrie is a cool movie and book. The psycho photo of her in this shirt covered in blood looks suspiciously like a psycho ex-girlfriend of mine. Also, prom is short for promenade, and attendees can be correctly referred to as promenaders.