Well, as we all are very well aware, last wednesday, the 18th, marked a very important social event, known as the school formal. As a prelude, I will give you some quick pricings.
Suit = $180 (Was black)
Shirt = $50 (Was black)
Tie = $30 (Was black)
Shoes = $56 (Was black)
Haircut the day before = $20
Shampoo and Conditioning = $40 combined
Shoelaces = $4
Getting to the formal: Well, the formal started at 5:30 p.m. apparently, so to get there, parental transport was not available. I caught a bus at 3:33 p.m. which picked up about 30 school children on the way to penrith station. Arriving at penrith station 26 minutes before my train, I jogged, in a suit, accross to McDonalds, for breakfast. I waited in line for 10 minutes behind a very disgruntled asian lady who was trying to argue that the frozen coke machine "must be working" although the manager explained to her that it clearly wasn't. Finally obtaining my happy meal, which made me very happy, as the name implies, I set off to the station. I did arrive with 10 minutes to spare, and the machine rejected my money. Twice. And then the operator made me search for my concession card. So I missed the first train. Catching a train mildly later, at 4:35 p.m. I arrived at Clyde station at about 5:15 p.m. upon which I stood in the middle of Berry Street, awaiting Sarah's fathers car, which has rather loud doors. Upon the getting in the car, we drove several streets to arrive at the Rosehill Gardens.
At the Formal: Well, I must say, it was alot unlike how I liked to like the unlikeable thought of liking my idea of what it would be unlike. Getting out of the car, Sarah and Myself walked up to the main looking area, where people were standing. On this difficult journey, we were intercepted by several people, including glen taking a photo.. and showing off his apparently "neo" style coat. Although it was alot thinner, not as many buttons, and clearly not as programmed.. Getting past the hordes of people outside, we made it into the lobby, where we found the lifting devices, known as lifts. I cannot actually remember if we went up or down, although I'm pretty sure it was up. And out into another section we walked, following the path into a hall.
Even more at the Formal: Sarah and myself looked for many many metaphorical years for our table, until we sighted that magic number 8. Sitting down, we were given pink slips to suggest various people for celebratorial stature. After handing in these forms, we commenced consumption of the entree. Mine consisted of the pastry surrounded mince, three slices of sundried tomato, one slice of creamy brie cheese, and lots of sauce. Following this, I ate my bun, with lots of butter, salt, and strong, strong pepper. Mains came next, with mine being half of a small and obviously genetically modified chicken, on top of golden potato, and cream sauce. This was followed up by dessert. I had a cone like tower of berry flavoured cream, and the half of Sarah's Tiramasu which she did not want to eat. After these meals commenced the dancing, mostly of which was me looking like an idiot and Sarah warning me I was about to be slapped. After an hour of this came the one song which suited a slow dance. And then Patrick's heart-felt and extremely cliche song which he devised himself, consisting of two 8 lined verses, both almost the same but with slight differences, towards another of his fellow asian companions, whose name always escapes me, as do often the names, of asians, with names. Even when most of their names are European, I still can't really be bothered to remember their names, but I remember they're asians.
Exiting the Formal: At 10:00 p.m. sharp, we were kicked out of the building, and myself and Sarah walked out to the parking spaces, and sat, for about 30 minutes, awaiting her mother, he drove myself home. And then I went to sleep.
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