Homecoming, Ebola, and Small Children

To the date, it has been exactly a week since my school's homecoming dance. Must I say I rocked it. With the help of my date of course. More on that later. To preface my tale, I have been sick consecutively for the past three weeks, with no breaks. While the ailments have varied, I have been slightly miserable since late September. Through homecoming week, I missed two days of school, and vomited more than I care to mention. However, I was only sick in the mornings, and by the afternoon felt relatively fine. In comparison to the a.m., by the p.m. I was cured. No, I am not pregnant. By the time Saturday the 18th rolls around, I'm feeling comparably fine. By the morning of the 18th, I was the sickest I had been in all. I was severely dehydrated, had no more bile left, and was sore from heaving to get the bile out. Long story [somewhat] short, I gave my date a call and politely [but pathetically] explained that I wouldn't be able to go to homecoming, and that I was honestly crushed. And I was. I made my judgment too quickly though, because I was not only able to make it to my 2:15 p.m. hair appointment, but I was also able to get ready, and go out with my date. I felt fabulous, to say the least. I wasn't complaining either.
So my sister arrives at my house to see me off, and sneakily snaps some shots, and then asks [for what reason I'm not sure] if she can take our picture [she would have anyway, even if we had said no]. Since my mom doesn't get very excited about stuff like this, my sister was a great fill in for her. My sister was also 9 months pregnant at the time. Naturally, I was joking with her that should she have her baby whilst we were gone, she should give us a call, and we could come see her in the hospital once the birthing process was over. She replied with a witty "If you come home and find a small child in your bed, you'll know I had the baby" [referring to my niece, who would stay with her grents (my parents) while her rents were in the hospital]. My niece also was able to sneak into one of the pictures.
Before going to the actual dance, the group my date and I were in went to dinner. WOW! The food was great, once the millennium passed that it took to get to our tables from the kitchen. Not only that, but the restaurant didn't take reservations, so we waited in line for ten years before getting in. No biggie. We talked. And should have sung songs. When we were eventually seated, we were introduced to our waiters [Dave and Brie], who were very polite, but extremely unhelpful. We decided that Dave had to have something wrong with him. We also decided as we were pulling out of the parking lot and ran over the curb that we in reality ran over Dave for being so rude to us.
Next, we actually did go to the dance. It was at an ice rink. Who holds a formal dance at an ice rink? My school. Duh. It was cold, it was somewhat miserable [because it was cold], and it was bi-polar temperature wise. You see, the actual ice rink was available for use, but the dance portion of the dance was held in an event room on the top floor. The room was separated from the man portion of the rink by two lobbies of space. Pious bovine. Once you crossed the threshold of those doors, you were introduced immediately to a solid wall of sweat and humidity. It would have been more humorous had it not been so real. That and the modern dance music made the dance portion of the evening highly entertaining.
Ironically, the next day, my sister did have her baby, and I now have a new nephew. He's pretty ugly in human terms, but in newborn terms, he's adorable. The thing about babies is that they've been cooped up in an enclosed watery prison for nine months give or take a few, so they're wrinkly and nasty looking. They really get cute only after about a month or two of serious drying out. He'll only get cuter. Cheers.