Isn't It Ironic?

A nomination for Prom Queen is all the proof I need.

The oppressive heat wave blanketing the city has actually made people crazy. And not just a little a little loony, but wacko.

"Whose (yes, incorrect usage) the prommiest of the Prom Queens?" the survey asks.

What does that even mean?

Admittedly, I don't know much about prom kings or queens. I never went to my prom (or any prom).

I graduated from high school a year early to escape such inanity and start college.

But if you went back and asked my former classmates if I ever was or possibly could be prom queen material, they wouldn't laugh at the notion.

They'd look at you puzzled and ask, "Who's Karen?" (Correct usage)

Probably not surprisingly, I was a nerd in high school. My boyfriend was in college already and my friends tended to be older.

I was a complete non-entity to my high school classmates.

Oh, my teachers loved me because I was a straight-A student, but I was pretty much invisible to all but a small clutch of fellow nerds.

Ergo, most definitely not prom queen material.

And I wouldn't have even known about the nomination had a friend not sent me a congratulatory e-mail earlier this evening.

But he has a tendency toward the ironic, so I'm telling myself that he meant it that way. Please, let there be no sincerity to your words, friend.

~Cue musical segue~

Meanwhile, over at a bustling Six Burner, I was happy to see a Virginia wine as the featured white.

Stone Mountain's Virginia Table Wine "Maquillage" was just the pink pick-me-up a non-prom queen type needed.

The label, with its renderings of make-up, seemed particularly apropos for a nerdy type who didn't even start wearing make-up until she was in her mid-twenties.

A blend of Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot had just the right amount of spice and berries while satisfying my Virginia jones.

Tonight's crowd made for a lot of new restaurant talk so I heard about progress on Pasture, The Roosevelt's beer and cocktail list and the neighborhood buzz on Blue Goat.

When I went to leave, a group of guys halfway down the block called to me, so I walked down to see what was up.

"Hey!" one guy said, smiling at me as I approached. "You looked nice, so I wanted to say hello."

"Hey, there," I said, smiling as I turned on my heel, back toward my car.

For the record, that kind of thing never happened to me in high school.

What the hell?