Last night was the ninth grade dance, which is the end of the year dance for all ninth graders in our district. Six junior high schools, which is easily 1,500+ kids.
Brittani went with three friends; they had dinner at a nice little Italian restaurant, then we drovethem to the dance. The dance was lame, apparently, but Britt really seemed to enjoy the primping and posing part of the night.
Here's a slideshow, but you can go through the pictures here, if you don't feel like sitting through a slideshow.
Eight more years until the next ninth grade dance. Whoo-hoo!
Oh, I forgot to add: when we dropped them off at the dance, which was held at the fairgrounds, there were a ton of parents across the street from the entrance-- it looked like a swarm of Suburban Paparazzi. The last picture in the slideshow was of one of the most stylish guys that I saw at the dance. Seriously. I would love one of my girls to go to a dance with aguy dressed like that: pink spiked mohawk, tux jacket of some type with a red kilt. So much better than those guys who try to look like pimps. What is that about anyway? Why do the girls tolerate that? Anyway, I was hanging out the window taking pictures, and he says, "This is really freaking me out. All these people hanging out of ccars taking pictures. It's freaky." So I took a picture of him-- though it's blurry and poorly executed.