In Excess

People review shows and exhibitions and in the same vein I am going to review the Law Ball. It’s in the title, we get dressed up, go to a venue, everyone’s allowed five drinks and chaos ensues.

The clothes: Have to start with what was competing with the food for my attention all night. Who. What. Wear. Thank goodness the judges of best-dressed actually had some sense and actually picked the best-dressed girl to win the prize (it was a bodice-jumpsuit by the way, so daring and so cool!). Too many girls wearing dresses too short we could see their cellulite and undies (thank goodness we didn’t see more) and shoes too high so that they winced around and half had to sit down at the end of the night through an inability to dance (I sat down from dance-fatigue in my wedge-heeled ankle booties). But there were some stunners, especially anyone who wore a long dress (I’m bias because I did, but seriously, there were some beauties there).

The food: GL and I spent the first half hour after arrival seated by the door where the waiters exited the kitchen to be first in line for the food (this backfired when I put a boiling arancini in my mouth and got burnt. But it was ok, because I’d taken two so let the other one cool down then I could actually taste it, delish! As were the smoked chicken rice paper rolls, the mini potato-top pies and the brownie with vanilla cream on top. Whoever decided to have the croutons with patĂ© and not the mini hamburgers like last time is an idiot but overalll, a job well done. And a special shout out to the waitstaff, two of who were cute and all of whom were super friendly when we waved them over (again and again).

Dancefloor: the guy playing the classic hits on the piano was good. For the first two hours. I’m sorry but you can’t really dance to a slow version of ‘Uptown Girl’. Eventually he retired and then the iPod took over. Phew.

The only let down of the night (and I actually can’t get over how much it annoyed me) was all the drunk girls causing drama, being rude, vomiting, and spilling drinks on the dancefloor. I was very wary being in a cream dress and all (and very sober) so I was just like (now imagine Gabrielle Union in ‘Bring It On’ saying this) “Some bitch spill her drink on me one more time, one more time and it’s gonna be all ‘hold my earrings'” with a suitable head and finger sassy move.

Perhaps I’m just growing up and getting too old for that kind of thing.

P.S. You may have noticed that I did not feel the need to formally evaluate the male populace. They were there and in true law school fashion they were being their usual fairly uninteresting selves. My dear brother told me that maybe I didn’t get hit on because I was just looking too good and that’s scary (bless him, right). This was after he asked me if I’m a lesbian, a question to which I politely negatived. He then proceeded to tell me that I was becoming Bridget Jones, now, why he has seen that film or how I am becoming her is definitely a story for another day.

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