I'm not sure whether or not to be amused or upset that the first thing my father said when I asked about dress code for this stupid reception was:

'Business or Semi-Formal. Closer to High Business.'

Then he looked at me. Squinted. Raised an eyebrow. Frowned.

'Something very *conservative*.'

I looked at him, arched my eyebrow back, and frowned, replying,

'D'uh.'

This is the reception after his swearing in for the Afghanistan duties, where the ambassador to Afghanistan will be in attendance. Now I have to fight with everything that is in me to resist the absolutely INSANE desire to dress up in my rough tulle skirt, fishnets, combat boots, and black tee with my seven-ring collar jingling about my neck.

...I won't do it. I won't.






...But wouldn't it be funny?