Suits You, Shaw

In today's Beaut.ie post, I mentioned that I really liked Prometheus. Yes, there's heaps of holes and unanswered questions that can be picked through after seeing it, but I really enjoyed watching it. Fassbender was great as a sexy robot and I think I held my breath for the entire alien abortion scene. Noomi Rapace's wobbly English accent and the fact that Guy Pearce was all dressed up like an elderly nutsack instead of just hiring an old dude actor were minor irritations (it turns out that Pearce's character was supposed to appear all young in a dream sequence that ended up being cut, so that's why he was all olded up as Weyland) but overall I was a happy cinema-goer.

The actual point of this post though, is to see if it was just me that thought Elizabeth Shaw in her jumpsuit...


...TOTALLY REMINDED ME OF...


...April O'Neil from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fame! Incidentally, it's damn near impossible to get a decent picture of the original cartoon April, as a Google Images search for her just brings up creepy fan art of her with her rack bursting out of her clothes or bound and gagged for some reason. I guess that's the internet for you sometimes.

Land of the Five Dollar Shake

The other day I fell down the rabbit hole that was the amazing and absorbing thread on Reddit about fan theories. It's a great but rather long read, so naturally enough, bits and pieces from it were picked out and made a fuss of by other sites. Broadsheet covered one of my favourite ones, which deals with the universe that Quentin Tarantino's films take place in and neatly slots Inglourious Basterds into that universe's history, making it an alternate reality of sorts. I had actually read this theory before on Cracked.com, but managed to completely forget about it, so I got to be amazed all over again.

There have always been indicators that his films are connected, little threads like Red Apple cigarettes and Big Kahuna Burger have drifted by in the background pretty consistently.


Tarantino himself has said that Mr. Blonde from Reservoir Dogs and Vincent Vega of Pulp Fiction are brothers and now it seems he's previously said that he considers From Dusk 'Til Dawn and Kill Bill as movies within that universe. I quite like this point in particular: "Kill Bill, after all, is basically Fox Force Five, right on down to Mia Wallace playing the title role." And it's completely right, once you swap out Budd for Sofie Fatale.


Mia: "Fox Force Five." Fox, as in we're a bunch of foxy chicks. Force, as in we're a force to be reckoned with. Five, as in there's one, two, three, four, five of us. There was a blonde one, Sommerset O'Neal from that show "Baton Rouge", she was the leader. A Japanese one, a black one, a French one and a brunette one, me.

SEE?

I really like all the little links and references, like Alabama from True Romance being mentioned in passing by Mr. White in Reservoir Dogs. There's also the fact that part of the landscape of Tarantino's Death Proof is the selection of Jungle Julia's billboards peppered along the roadsides promoting her weekday morning show on the local radio station. Each one has a theme of sorts, including...


...a Kill Bill parody, which further feeds into the idea of Kill Bill being part of that reality's pop culture. Ta dah!

London Fundon

The weekend before last, The Bear and I skedaddled off to London for a lovely long weekend. Arising at stupid o'clock on the Friday morning (the Bear kept waking up through the night as he was too excited to sleep properly - aw!) we made our way Londonwards, the first stop on the agenda being the Harry Potter Studio Tour at Leavesden Studios. (Hence all the excitement.)

YOU GUYS. Every Harry Potter fan needs to go here. The tour took us around three and a half hours and you get to wander through at your own pace, which is totally perfect. The only problem was all the fucking PEOPLE, as you accidentally bump into them and get bumped into approximately four million times as you make your way around. But it's a really great setup and even though, as Nicola informed me on Twitter, they don't let you fondle Snape's robes, we had an absolute blast. I'd suggest that anyone who plans on going should try to avoid looking at too many photos of the tour, as the less you know, the more amazing surprises you'll get and the more often you'll exclaim: "Holy crap! It's THIS THING THAT I LOVE! LOOK AT IT!" As such, I'm only putting a handful of pictures up here and they don't really give anything major away, so it's safe to look.


There's a deadly gift shop at the studio too, where you can buy all manner of overpriced Hogwarts paraphernalia, but they don't quite seem to have gotten the hang of sufficiently stocking the shop just yet. I wanted to pick up a few fridge magnets as small presents, but there were none left. So I figured a little keyring might do, but they were completely sold out of Gryffindor keyrings, or indeed anything small and affordable that was Gryffindor related. And I was hardly going to give someone a present of a Hufflepuff keyring, sure I might as well just slap them in the face and be done with it at that rate.

Our lovely friend Brenda was kind enough to put us up for the weekend, although on the first night I woke up at one point to find her cat, the bauld but very cute Ógie standing next to my head and eyeballing me. I may have told him to fuck off. Sorry Ógie.

This was the view from the back of Brenda's place. AMAZO.

Saturday's entertainment came in the form of the British Female Crown performances for the World Burlesque Games, which just HAPPENED to be on while we were over. It was a total coincidence, I SWEAR. There was also much entertainment derived from the fact that the show was taking place in Bush Hall. Heh. Bush.


The show was fantastic fun and each performer did a truly amazing job. My highlights were Chi Chi Revolver, a goofy, tattooed, hula-hooping dynamo that looks not unlike Lady Gaga and definitely deserved a place in the top three. Robbed, she was! Here's a video that shows just over a minute of her act (I don't know why the person filming didn't record it all, because they bloody well should have) :



Billie Rae, a red haired, fire breathing ballerina doll was another of my favourites, you can see her Forgotten Ballerina routine here:



The winner of the competition was Eliza Delite, a dead ringer for Lynda Carter who blew everyone away with a beautiful Virgin Mary routine.



While it sounds deliciously sacrelicious to combine Holy Mary and burlesque, it was actually just gorgeous and the crowd went fucking nuts for it. The glittery sacred heart was a nice touch too.


On our last morning, I plotted our route back to the airport via Holborn. For I had previously found a Krispy Kreme donut shop along High Holborn a few years ago and you may recall how obsessed I am with these particular roundy Original Glazed hoops of happiness. After traipsing up the busy street with our suitcases in tow, I was getting worried. There was no sign nor smell of a doughnut to be found. It turned out we were at the wrong end of street, for as soon as we ventured to the other end, LO! There it was! The Bear had walked straight past it, but my doughnut senses were on the ball and I spotted it in time.


We bought twenty four doughnuts that morning and after a quick spot of suitcase Tetris at the airport, we managed to make enough room to stuff the two boxes into the Bear's suitcase. It was a GOOD DAY.

Also, I noticed that the lifts in the airport were made by a company called Schindler.


SCHINDLER'S LIFT!

I'm here all week. Try the veal.

Sweet Valley High Revisited - All Night Long

Due to popular demand (and the fact that people keep telling me to hurry the feck up with these SVH posts) here I am, finally getting around to ripping the piss out of the next Sweet Valley High book in the Revisited series, book the fifth...

Sweet Valley High #5: All Night Long


This book cover promises so much, between the sexually loaded title, the fact that it's apparently all about sexually loaded Jessica and the STATE of the sexually loaded Freddie Mercury porn star dude on the cover. Unfortunately, and much like Jessica, this book is essentially a great big cock tease.

It starts off reasonably exciting, Jessica has been invited to a party at the lake by college boy Scott Daniels. Scott drives a red Firebird and has a MOUSTACHE so he's totally older and sophisticated and manly as fuck and all that. Mammy Wakefield has said she's not allowed to go because...y'know...LOOK AT HIM, but it being Jessica, she fabricates a cover story and goes anyway. Elizabeth does her usual bit of nagging, this time she's worried because the twins have a test the next morning which Jessica hasn't studied for yet and they have to pass it to become Sweet Valley tour guides. LAME.

As well as the exam, Elizabeth is freaking out about Jessica going out with a college student because Enid told her about how her cousin went to a college dorm party that got out of hand and was like "a grown up pyjama party, with everyone wearing nightshirts and nightgowns and the floor strewn with mattresses for them to sit on." OH MY GOD THOSE LUNATICS. I was at a party in college where we kicked a giant hole through a wall and spent the rest of the night drunkenly jumping through it and surprising people. Beat that, Enid. It was fine, the house was supposed to be demolished at the end of the year so the hole didn't matter. Until it turned out that it wasn't going to be demolished after all and the guys living there had to get it fixed. But back to Sweet Valley!

Jessica is out in the sunshine with the college kids, who are drinking beer and passing a joint around, so Jessica realises that "she'd gotten into the fast lane now" and to prove that she's not a baby and is just as sophisticated as the other girls, she throws mud at Scott. Right. Totally mature, Jess. Also, the book keeps mentioning Scott's moustache, just to remind us how grown-up he is. And there's this amazing sentence when he comes out of the lake: "Droplets of water clung to his moustache and his hair stood out in dark, wet ringlets." Holy shit, TAKE ME NOW, SCOTT.

Anyway, after the mud-flinging, he chases her around the beach and even though just two pages ago she thought to herself that "he wouldn't be so easy to fend off if they were alone" and his embrace is described as "disturbing" she agrees to go off to an isolated boathouse in the woods with him. Don't do what Jessie Don't does, kids.

Scott slips his hand down the back of her bikini bottoms (SAUCY!) and loosens the strings of her top (SUPER SAUCY!) but by now Jessica has realised she's in over her head and not in control of the situation. She tries to fight him off, but it all gets a little rapey and when he eventually stops pawing at her, the book wanders into victim blaming territory, where he sneers at her for coming with him to the boathouse in the first place and says no one will believe that she didn't want to get all sexed on. When she demands that he takes her home, he laughs and tells her the party's an all-nighter, then ditches her in the woods, but not before saying "just be glad it wasn't worse". TOTAL. GENTLEMAN. Jessica is left stumbling through the woods alone in her bikini and decides that it's all Elizabeth's fault. Because she's Jessica and she's CRAZY, remember? She eventually finds the college kids in a nearby cabin, but Scott is shitfaced and everyone else is off riding each other. There's no phone there so she can't call anyone to rescue her and Scott falls asleep while she's shouting at him for being a horrible jerk. I have no idea why she doesn't steal his car keys and get herself out of there, but she ends up sleeping miserably on the bare floor of the cabin, presumably still in her red string bikini.

Seriously, was this even a good look in the Eighties? What's got a creepy moustache and a rapey demeanour? THAT GUY.

From here the book takes something of a nosedive, as all the potentially interesting Jessica-being-a-psycho stuff is over and now it's all about Elizabeth covering for Jessica and we know what BAGS OF FUN she can be. For example, she wakes up the next morning from a dream where she's kissing her boyfriend (BORING) and makes a mental note to write "I rose from the warmth of my dreams to the chill dawn of reality" into her journal. Don't bother, Liz. Also, "chill dawn"? Really? Life must be SUCH a struggle when you're a ridiculously beautiful and popular sixteen year old living in a split level house in a California town where it never rains. Anyway, Elizabeth realises that Jessica still hasn't come home and figures she'll be in as much trouble as Jessica if their parents find out, so she goes downstairs and has breakfast as herself, then sneaks back upstairs and comes down again as Jessica. Alice Wakefield can't tell her daughters apart after sixteen years. MOTHER OF THE YEAR.

So Elizabeth spends the day at school switching between being herself and Jessica, depending on who she's with. She takes the tour guide test, which is on in the school for some reason, but when Jessica still hasn't turned up when her allotted time for taking the test arrives, Elizabeth decides to bail her out by taking it again as her. BUT right before it she has a big row with Todd, because he calls her out on being such a fucking doormat when it comes to her twin and tells her it's cheating if she takes Jessica's test. They break up during the argument and a distressed Elizabeth takes the test as Jessica but makes a balls of it due to all the emotional DRAMA.

Afterwards she bumps into Olivia Davidson, who I'm only mentioning because of the description of her: "Olivia was big on things like anti-nuke rallies and organic food. [...] Her lunches invariably consisted of things like wholegrain bread, meatless spreads and alfalfa sprouts." Such completely unnecessary detail! WHY, FRANCINE? Or ghostwriter, as the case most certainly is.

Anyway, Jessica eventually resurfaces and when she finds out that Elizabeth failed the test she took for her but passed her own, she freaks the fuck out and accuses her of failing on purpose so she could have Scott for herself. Which doesn't even make the tiniest bit of sense, but then again, a bit of Insane Jessica action is always entertaining. Everyone is cross with each other for a bit, but then Todd and Elizabeth make up and Jessica gets to retake the test because the teacher who was supervising could see "how sick" she was and figured that was why she flunked it. It seems the world just conspires against Jessica EVER learning her lesson. Although she does get a dose of poison oak from her wandering around the woods half naked and misses the big surfing competition at the end, the build-up to which barely made for a subplot throughout the book.

Notable outfit:
Dana Larson runs away with the trophy again, this time while rocking the following:

"An oversize t-shirt over a red-striped miniskirt, purple tights and black suede ankle boots. An enormous gold loop dangled from one pierced earlobe, the other sported a tiny silver star."

YES.

Things I counted:
Number of pages: 117
References to the twins' blue-green eyes: 4
References to the fact that the twins are blonde: 3
References to Scott's moustache: 4
Number of times someone bites their lip: 4

Draw Baby Draw

At the end of April, the Bear and I finally got around to attending a Dr. Sketchy's Anti Art School session, in this case Disco Inferno, which was spurred on by the news that founder and art superhero Molly Crabapple was going to be in town at the time and giving a talk the next day. The Bear kept pronouncing her name as Molly Krabappel all weekend because he just loves winding me up.

The mirrorball-strewn sketching session itself was tremendous fun, upstairs in 4 Dame Lane is a gorgeous venue and with €5 whiskey sours on the go, what more could you want? (Seeing as neither one of us had done life drawing since the Leaving Cert all those years ago, we practiced drawing each other while drawing each other a few days beforehand because we're SO GODDAMN META.) Once I settled into it and stopped panicking because the poses were only lasting a minute to begin with, I really enjoyed it and the three hour striptease (as host Scarlett Nymph referred to it) totally flew by. I used to be reasonably good at life drawing and this has made me want to scrape all the rust off and get much better at it.

Sade O'Sapphic and Sophia Disgrace were the disco diva models.

Some delightful drag king action from Phil T. Gorgeous. Note the dude in the red scarf, because that's Alan Cumming, who was there to film a documentary. ALAN CUMMING! Sebastian from The High Life and/or Nightcrawler! So brilliant.

The idea of Dr. Sketchy's is a brilliant and empowering one and it was fascinating listening to Molly herself explain at her talk the next day how the idea was formed. As a model herself, she was annoyed with how drawing class subjects were faceless and unnamed, with Female Nude Model #1 being the height of the credit they got. Dr. Sketchy's revolves around the models, they're the stars of the show, being whooped and cheered for every saucy pose they strike and deeming which sketches are to be rewarded with cupcakes or tequila shots.

As the poses got longer, my drawing got less frantic and I slowly got somewhat into the swing of things. The last two 20 minute pose sketches are the ones I'm happiest with, so they're the only ones of mine you get to see.


I was always going to love it though, something that can be described as a mix of art, burlesque and whiskey is like pulling my favourite things out of a sparkly top hat at random and having them all work spectacularly well together. The next Dr. Sketchy's session is Miss Havisham themed, which sounds utterly fantastic. It looks like I'm not going to make it to that particular one unfortunately, but you can bet your sexy ass I'll be at the one after that.

All session photos are from the Dr. Sketchy's site and were taken by Cherry Sedition.

Downstairs Cabaret

On a lazy Sunday a few weeks ago, I re-watched Coraline as it was being shown on telly. My favourite characters in this film have got to be the two batty old ladies living downstairs from the blue-haired heroine, former showgirls April Spink and Miriam Forcible. The pair are delightfully dotty, voiced by Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders and own a scatter of little Scottie dogs.


When Coraline goes through the door to the Other World, she meets the Other versions of Spink and Forcible, who put on a spectacular show for her and transform into their former younger and rather sexy selves.


But going back to the old lady versions of them, when they lead Coraline through their apartment, you can see posters on the walls of the saucy shows they performed back in their vaudevillian heyday, posters which I instantly demanded to get a proper look at at. BECAUSE THEY'RE GORGEOUS. And beautifully illustrated. And pun-tastic. And here they are!


Hot stuff, comin' through.

Also, I'm now writing for the very lovely Beaut.ie and the nostalgia-laden Where's Grandad? which goes some way to explain the frankly SHAMEFUL neglect of this blog for the last while. I'm sorry! Don't leave me!

The Walking Women

***

AOOGA! SPOILER ALERT! 

If you haven't already seen series one and two of The Walking Dead and don't want it ruined for you then I suggest you skip this post. There's other ones there in the circles on the sidebar a bit further down that are about girls jumping out of cakes and Catwoman and fashion in Star Trek and all kinds of other stuff. Try some of those instead!

***

As you probably know by now, I quite enjoy a zombie tale or two, even though they scare the actual pants off me. I've been voraciously tearing my way through The Walking Dead comic series, whispering "Oh noooo!" to myself and quietly whimpering in fear as I turn the next page. If it was a pop-up book I'd probably have a heart attack. So naturally, the Bear and I watched the first two seasons of the TV show. Which I also enjoyed quite a lot, and yet there was something bothering me. Something other than Carl aka The Dumbest Child in the World aka "For Fuck's SAKE Carl!", who, incidentally is actually kind of cool and not the least bit annoying in the comic.


The something in question here is the bloody rampant sexism in the show. It's something that creeps into the comics too, which I have to say I didn't really notice while reading, but looking back on it there are quite a few instances of patriarchal bullshit. Such as Glenn remarking that there's "not that many women to go around". What the hell, Glenn? Women to go around? The women you speak of are participants in surviving the goddamn zombie apocalypse, just like you, not inanimate supplies or tins of beans to be distributed amongst the menfolk, you fuck. And I actually like Glenn. Most of the time. Although in the TV show, he did ask Dale if all the (understandably frazzled - what with the impending threat of zombies wanting to eat their faces) women were on their period at the same time, because, y'know, bitches be crazy and all.

Shut up Glenn.

Among those women survivors is Lori Grimes, wife of group leader Rick and mother to "For Fuck's SAKE Carl!". Comic book Lori undergoes something of a transformation, as at first she looks to be decidedly Native American but eventually morphs into a more Caucasian version of herself.


She's Rick's voice of reason and while she's not a particularly stand out character, she's not even half as awful as TV show Lori. TV show Lori is nagging, self righteous and generally an allstar pain in the hole. She gets up in everyone else's business and berates Andrea for having the cheek to not do all the washing up, childminding and laundry with all the other wimmin and wanting to guard the camp and shoot zombies in the face. Because it's not like EVERY DAMN PERSON in the camp should be learning to defend themselves and evenly dividing the group's duties between them. Oh no, according to Lori "the men can handle it anyway, they don’t need you". Go fuck yourself, Lori.


Andrea's a total badass in the comic books. She becomes the best shot in the group and keeps them all safe in her role as a superhero sniper. However, in the TV show, she has Dale confiscate her gun because he's decided she can't be trusted not to top herself, while For Fuck's Sake Carl!, a ten year old idiot, is allowed to carry a gun. She has angry sex with Shane, who is the kind of person who tried to rape Lori earlier on in the first series and then she shoots Darryl after mistaking him for a zombie. OH THAT SILLY WOMAN.

Further instances of the TV show females being lame include Carol clinging to her abusive husband and once he's killed off, clinging onto Darryl like a barnacle with very short grey hair and opts out of making any sort of decision when the group is trying to vote on what to do with their prisoner. Maggie entered the show swinging a baseball bat at the undead while galloping along on horseback, like a zombie-slaying superstar and now she's a hysterical mess, flinging Lori's morning after pills at her in in a rage shouting "Here's your abortion pills!" as part of a grim little pro-life slant. I mean, yes, she and Glenn got jumped by an undead bastard while on their run to the chemist, but that outburst and subsequent storyline (Rick being super angry at Lori for even considering the abortion attempt) rang pro-life to me. And if a zombie apocalypse isn't reason enough not to go through with a pregnancy then I'm fucked if I know what is.

There IS a ray of hope though. A katana-wielding, bandana-wearing, stone cold ass-kicking ray of hope. When Andrea was scrambling through the woods in the finale of the second series, she was saved from being an imminent zombie snack (zombie bag of Tayto, perhaps) by a mysterious hooded figure leading two armless, jawless walkers with chains around their necks. The hooded figure in question here is Michonne, and her entrance is super exciting, as she and Andrea are easily the strongest female characters in the comic series.


Danai Gurira has been cast in the role, so hopefully she'll be able to pull off Michonne's immesurably cool and devastating approach to zombie chopping and generally taking care of business.

Because this here on the left is how awesome Michonne is.

Somehow I don't see Lori lecturing Michonne on how she's supposed to be washing socks with her and Carol instead being amazing at decaptitating walkers. All that being said, I really do enjoy the show, the zombies are brilliantly done and spectacularly scary and I do like the fact that the storyline veers away from the comics from time to time, otherwise there'd be no surprises for the readers. I just wish the writers would cop the fuck on when it comes to the female characters and with Michonne and her giant can of whoop-ass, hopefully that's what will happen.

Wild Things

There was a time before celebrities had to give their babies mental-sounding names to show us how much better they are than us regular folk. A time before pesky possession of exotic animals laws were brought in. Which means a time when famous people could look cool as fuck parading their fancy wild animal pets around the place.

SUCH AS

Audrey Hepburn and her pet deer, out doing the weekly shop.
  Beatrix Potter with her pet rabbit (well OBVIOUSLY), named Benjamin Bouncer.

Legendary dancer/singer/actress/badass Josephine Baker with her pet cheetah Chiquita.

John Barrymore (Drew's grandad) looking awfully dapper with his pet monkey.

Another pet cheetah here, with American actress Phyllis Gordon doing a spot of window shopping.

Frida Kahlo chilling out with her per deer, Granizo. Which, according to totally reliable online translators, means "hailstones". Cute!

Salvador Dali with his pet anteater. Of course. He'd hardly have a pet Jack Russell now, would he?

And finally, what has to be my absolute favourite of these photos...

Burlesque superstar Zorita, OUT WALKING her pet snake. That's right, she's taking a SNAKE for a WALK. Because Zorita doesn't give a FUCK.

Lots more brilliant ones over at Retronaut. I would now like a pet ocelot, please.

Sweet Valley High Revisited - Power Play

I realise that there have been more tumbleweeds than blog posts around here lately, which is due to real life work being so ridiculously busy for the last while and my getting home in the evenings and not having the energy or inclination to go near a screen, unless it's to play Draw Something. Things seem to have calmed down somewhat for the moment, so I've decided to do the next in my continuing series of posts wherein I'm appalled and fascinated by The Glorious Wakefields. Also because the last time I met my lovely friend Brenda for a pint, she shouted "READ FASTER!" at me.

Sweet Valley High #4: Power Play 

The twins look like they're about to shift the faces off each other. Also, nice eyebrows.

Right so, this book's main plot concerns one Robin Wilson, whose introduction in the last book served only to quickly establish the fact that she's REALLY FAT and wants to be friends with Jessica. Well it turns out that she also desperately wants to join the Pi Beta Alpha sorority that the twins are members of, even though they sound like a shower of self-important bitches who don't actually do anything. Even Elizabeth keeps harping on about how snobby they are so I don't know why she won't just fucking well leave. Anyway, Robin is under the illusion that Jessica is her friend and has promised to nominate her for membership at their next pointless meeting. Elizabeth knows full well that Jessica won't do anything of the sort and is just using Robin as some kind of errand-running lackey, so she decides to throw the poor girl a bone and nominate her herself.

Unsurprisingly, Jessica and the Pi Betas don't want Robin in their clique because a fat girl would be bad for their image and they're all terrible people. However, they go ahead and agree to nominate her, as that means they get to torment her via the ridiculous and totally stupid process of hazing, before having to vote on whether she can join or not. I've always thought the Greek system was a load of wank and it totally is. Jessica, Lila and Cara call to Robin's house to tell her the "good" news and for some reason are repulsed by her nervous and kind offers of milkshakes or sodas, because, again, they're TERRIBLE PEOPLE WITH NO SOULS. Who wouldn't gladly accept a milkshake when offered one? VAPID IDIOTS, that's who.

Lila, Jessica and Cara are like an Eighties version of this in my head.

If the last book was bad for constantly pointing out that Robin is overweight, this book is utterly relentless in reminding us. In the first chapter alone it mentions her hungrily munching two giant bars of chocolate while talking to Elizabeth and describes her getting up off the couch as "struggling to get out of the deep cushions". See, it's because she's SO FAT, YOU GUYS. She can't even SIT DOWN without ending up like a chubby turtle stuck on its back, HA HA HA. When Jessica and her cronies leave the house, Robin is so overwhelmed with happiness that she celebrates the only way a fat bird knows how, which - according to Francine and her cackling, body-shaming ghostwriter army - is by eating an entire cherry cheesecake.

The next day, Elizabeth is furious to discover that Jessica and her posse of bitches are making Robin run laps of the school's running track after school for a week, while they and a bunch of other horrible people mock her in a vicious and heartless display of bullying. Her next task is to go to the beach and play volleyball in a bikini, which Robin is dreading, because in case you've forgotten, SHE'S FAT. Anyway, Robin perseveres and gets through each challenge, much to evil Jessica's annoyance, so she cooks up an impossible one to stop Robin in her big fat tracks. She now has to get Bruce Patman to take her to the Disco-marathon that weekend. DUN DUN DUUUUN. And yes, so far we've had a dance PER BOOK since book one. The students of Sweet Valley High must be fucking exhausted. Elizabeth tries to console her and this actual conversation takes place:

"I might as well ask Elvis Presley!" "Robin," Elizabeth reminded her gently, "Elvis has been dead for-" "That's just my point. I'd have a better chance with a dead superstar than a live Bruce Patman!"

Oh my GOD, Elizabeth you PATRONISING GEEBAG. Did she ACTUALLY think that Robin didn't know that Elvis is dead? SERIOUSLY.

Anyway, Elizabeth persuades Bruce to take Robin to the dance in exchange for her writing a big feature about him in the school paper about him being brilliant at tennis. Which results in what must be the most hilarious line in the whole book, because Bruce has inexplicably turned into a 1930s cartoon gangster. "All right. I'll take her. But I want my picture in, see! A big one. And tell how I whipped that guy at Palisades." I swear I nearly fell out of bed laughing at that one.

So Bruce takes Robin to the dance but immediately ditches her in the middle of the dance floor, loudly asking if anyone wants to steer the Queen Mary around for the night, before walking off, like an utter dickhead. Robin runs off crying and Elizabeth tries to give her a pep talk in the bathroom, realises that Robin is actually really pretty and for some reason seems totally amazed that a heavy girl could be good looking. Robin has had enough of the Wakefield wenches at this stage so she runs off to the car park and ends up meeting the lanky school paper photographer, Allen Walters. He gets her to come back inside, they dance together and then he takes her home. Aw. In your face, Jesssica!

Meanwhile, Lila "Daddy Issues" Fowler has been shoplifting the shit out of Lisette's, a fancy new French boutique at the mall. Elizabeth sees her yoinking a bracelet and it turns out that she's doing it for attention because her dad is hardly ever home. She gets caught by mall security and calls Elizabeth to come help her, even though they hate each other and gets six months probation and a promise from her dad that he'll be less of an absent jerk.

The Pi Betas hold their vote on new members, but Robin gets blackballed (by Jessica, of course) and is distraught. She disappears for a bit and when she returns she stops talking to anyone at school and walks around like a "space cadet" according to Jessica, whom she totally blanks now. Go Robin! She also takes up pounding the running track every day after school, losing weight (a bit too) quickly and as a concession to the fact that anorexia is bad, m'kay, Elizabeth tells her she hopes she's doing it the right way, so Robin assures her that she's not starving herself to death. She tries out for the cheerleading squad and not only does she make the cut, she becomes co-captain and now that she's skinny and hot, everyone thinks she's brilliant so she's suddenly popular. This book sends out SUCH a horrendously bad message.

At this stage, even Bruce Patman has a raging hard-on for Robin and when she declares her candidacy for Miss Sweet Valley High (I don't know how these kids actually get an education at this school, when 90% of the curriculum is dances and pageants) the school splits into Team Jessica and Team Robin. The chemistry club name their newest formula "The Robin Reaction" (because all high school students INVENT FORMULAS, right?) and the football team's offensive and defensive lines carry banners around the school declaring their support for either Jessica or Robin. The one for Robin reads Robin Has Us Throbbin'. Seriously. FILTH! On the night of some big football game, Robin is announced as the winner and then publicly disses Bruce by asking him to drive her around the stadium in his Porsche for her victory lap, but choosing Allen to be her escort, reducing Bruce to lowly chauffeur status. HA! Good enough for him.

Notable outfit:
There was a serious lack of hilarious clothing this time around, but we DO get treated to the most Eighties sentence in the world:

"Jessica was wearing leotards and exercising with Jane Fonda via video cassette."

Leotards? Plural? How many did she have on?

Things I counted:
Number of pages: 150
References to the twins' blue-green eyes: 3
References to the fact that the twins are blonde: 4
Amount of times people blush: 9
References to Robin being fat: 30 (THIRTY! For realz.)

Veronica's Closet

As you're all probably well aware by now, unless you're allergic to the internet and pop culture news in general, Anchorman is to return for a sequel eight years (EIGHT YEARS! That's an entire small person ago! How did that happen?) after its release. Some are a bit nervous about the news, as sequels as good as their predecessor are a rare thing indeed. But the fact that there's been such a gap since it first came out makes me cautiously optimistic, as hurried sequels tend to be mediocre at best.

So anyway, after hearing the news I decided to write a post about the driven and unflappable Veronica Corningstone, anchorwoman extraordinaire, possessor of the most breathtaking heinie in all of Sandiago and a kickass wardrobe to boot.


She first sashays into Ron Burgundy's life at the news team's pool party, practically glowing in a knockout white ensemble and soft Veronica Lake curls, an unattainable mystery woman who swiftly bats away Ron's declaration of wanting to be on her.


As she finds herself in a constant battle with the boys club of the newsroom, she deals with their clumsy advances and attempts to sabotage her by rising above them and the cloud of Sex Panther fumes with poise and generally being brilliant at what she does.


Of course, her professionalism falters slightly when she tricks Ron into telling San Diego to go fuck itself. But that bit is totally amazing AND he called her a smelly pirate hooker, so yay Veronica! What remains unwavering throughout though are her super sharp suits and deadly scarves.


I'm definitely looking forward to the sequel, being a big fan of the first one, but also to see if they're going to keep the news team in the seventies or bring them into the eighties, and if so, what Veronica's take on a shoulder-padded power suit will be.

NEWS TEAM...ASSEMBLE!