I have never been to prom.

It’s true.

As a girl who was raised by her television set, I secretly dreamed about prom from a very, very young age. The dress, the limo, the corsage. Perhaps I’d even make my own dress like in Pretty in Pink. Perhaps I’d have a picnic prom like on Saved by the Bell. Perhaps Kevin Bacon would show up and be all “Let’s Dance” and everyone cuts loose. The possible scenarios were limitless, really. But, alas, no prom for me. Because I went to an Orthodox Jewish high school, instead of prom we had prom’s ugly stepsister, Winter Revue. I’ll tell you right now, not the same. When there’s no DANCE and no PROM QUEEN, it’s no dice for me.

So, when I heard that my sister-in-law was having a surprise 39.5 prom party, I was intrigued. Her friends had arranged to give her a prom of her own, her very first. They hired a party bus, and arranged to get dressed up in fancy 80s formal wear to dance the night away. No, I’m not kidding. When I was then invited to said prom, I immediately said no. I mean, I get that it’s not a real prom, but would she really want her brother and sister-in-law there?

Also, if you didn’t know. I’m a bit of a

because I don’t dance and I don’t really drink and I can’t ride a party bus without three sets of Sea Bands. I’m kind of the Amish girl at the party, without the bonnet.

So, I was prepared to just hear about Prom.

And then, somehow, I ended up being the photographer at this event and wearing a giant pink headband with matching pink tights.

And meet my date—Nacho Libre

(Fact: The Movember mustache was doing nothing to help this situation.)

I’m glad I went, there’s no question.

Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to tweet to you about the dude singing NICKELBACK karaoke like he was there to score himself a record deal and the karaoke king DJ who was running the show and decided he’d rather sing the karaoke himself than let me get up there and embarrass myself through Total Eclipse of the Heart. I am still feeling cheated, like three days later.

And I wouldn’t have been able to tell you about the dude in the T-Birds jacket.

T-BIRDS JACKET.

UNIRONICALLY.

And then there was actual music from Grease. And then he was ON THE DANCE FLOOR. I practically wet my pants right then and there.

And then, well, I wouldn’t have been able to show you this.

I don’t even know either. 

There was nothing about the night that wasn’t over-the-top ridiculously hilarious.

(except for maybe the three minutes I attempted to move like Jagger…and pretty much moved like, um, Carlton Banks. THIS IS WHY I DON’T DANCE, DAMMIT.)

And I was super glad that I got to be there to photograph it.

And now I want a real prom of my own.

With a date—who doesn’t have a mustache—and a limo and a corsage and a tiara and an embarrassingly awkward slow dance.

And if Kelly comes wearing the same dress as I am, we are going to throw down.

(YES. I know it was the spring dance…but I never had one of those either.)

And there had better be some karaoke.