Quelque Chose #23

The Bear: A Eurovision song needs to give you goosebumps.

Me: When was the last time a Eurovision song gave you goosebumps?

The Bear: ...

Me: Lordi?

The Bear: Yeah, Lordi gave me goosebumps. And a raging horn.

Me: Well, obviously.

Thank You, Youth Defence!

No, really! You're reading that post title 100% correctly. I genuinely and for realz am saying a big fluffy THANK YOU to Youth Defence, the Life Institute, the Mother and Child Campaign, prolifeinfo.ie, the Pro-Life Alliance and all the other similar organisations that don't happen to reside in 60a Capel Street.

You see, for quite some time, I thought it was ridiculous that as a country we just exported the issue of abortion, thanks to Ryanair and our handy proximity to England. However, since Youth Defence's anti-choice poster campaign invaded Dublin city last summer, I've realised that it's completely, unacceptably and fucking infuriatingly ridiculous that we export the issue and pretend like it doesn't happen.

Because of Youth Defence, I'm more vocally and fucking furiously pro-choice than I have ever been in my entire life.

Because of Youth Defence, I attended vigils for Savita Halappanavar on Kildare Street in the bollock-freezing cold last year despite a fractured ankle and a leg encased in a plaster cast.

Because of Youth Defence, I am never, ever in my life going to give my vote to any politician or organisation that would claim to describe themselves as "pro-life". I'd rather unwittingly step barefoot on upturned plugs for a year, than have that happen.

Because of Youth Defence, I now take an interest in their activities, along with those of the Pro Life Campaign, the Iona Institute, EWTN and their assorted cohorts, and revel in taking the unrelenting piss out of them here and writing angry, pro-choice blog posts for Beaut.ie.

Because of Youth Defence, for a while there my walk to and from work included keeping an eye out for and ripping down bright yellow stickers that bore a vapidly smiling shamrock on them as well as the insidious slogan "Proud to be Irish, Proud to be Pro Life".

Because of Youth Defence and their underhanded, manipulative, fuckweasel tactics, I'm planning on making a big-ass go-fuck-yourself sign with which to march at the Action on X rally at 4 o'clock on Saturday the 18th and I hope as many people as possible do too.


So seriously, you guys! Thank you for making me absolutely certain that women should have the right to choose what happens to our bodies, our lives and our mental wellbeing.

Thank you. You unbelievable cunts.

Smiley face!

Sweet Valley High Revisited - Racing Hearts

Blammo! It's book nine o'clock!

Sweet Valley High #9: Racing Hearts
 

The book begins with Elizabeth Wakefield discovering her sister Jessica trying on their mother's "chocolate-brown suit" which sounds just LOVELY. Elizabeth has no idea what the hell is going on with her sister, as she seems to have abandoned her plans to become a famous actress, isn't going to the beach with Cara Walker like she was supposed to, and is all talk about responsibility and the future. It's all very boring and un-Jess. It turns out that she wants to work in their father's legal office after school, as she has decided she wants to be a hotshot lawyer. Grand so.

The next day at school, it's been raining in Sweet Valley but worry not! Both Jessica and Lila Fowler still have perfect hair, as we’re informed that Jessica’s hair is “frizz-proof” and the rain has given Lila “a fullness to her wavy hair that Jessica could seldom achieve with her curling iron”. PHEW. I’m so glad that the beautiful popular girls remain flawless regardless of weather conditions. Jessica fills Lila in on her grand plan to work in Ned's office, and Lila's all "ewww, work" because Daddy’s Girl don’t need no stinkin’ job.

They run into Roger Barrett who's in love with Lila, but the hallway is slippery and he falls and lands on his arse in front of his dream girl. Poor Roger! And actually poor Roger, because he secretly works as a janitor in the evenings and weekends in Ned Wakefield’s office building, to pay the rent at home. Apparently there’s no such thing as part time jobs in petrol stations, delis or shops of any kind in Sweet Valley. Anyway, Roger runs off all embarrassed and Lila calls him Bugs Bunny while being a cunt about him with Jessica. She then explains that she calls him Bugs because he bugs her. Wildean wit, that one.

Meanwhile, in the boy’s locker room Bruce Patman, Todd Wilkins and John Pfeifer have an awesomely homoerotic conversation about the upcoming trials for the Barton Ames race, more commonly known as the Bart. There's also a dance afterwards (OF COURSE) called the Bart dance. Seriously. Every time it's mentioned, this pops into my head. Anyway, Bruce is bragging about how he’s going to win the race hands down, even though the prize is a scholarship to SVU, which he doesn’t exactly need seeing as he’s super rich. But never mind all that, we get these wonderful sentences which are MUCH more interesting:

“Droplets of water dripped from his dark hair onto his red and white Sweet Valley running shorts”

“Todd eyed Bruce coldly as he took off his soaked t-shirt”

“I imagine I have as good a chance as anyone. These legs of mine do ok on the basketball court”

They’re just a damp towel-snap away from a sweaty orgy on the wooden bench. There’s also some talk about Coach Schultz leaving over an argument with the school board about money, but who cares, BRUCE’S SHORTS ARE ALL WET.

After school, Jessica arrives at her father’s office to start her shiny new part time job. She’s expecting work to be like an episode of Ally McBeal, so she’s none too pleased when she’s put to work photocopying legal documents. However, things look up for Jess when she meets a handsome dude in the lift. His name is Dennis, he goes to a rival high school and he works part time in his father’s ad agency across the hall from Ned’s office. They flirt about handbags and he asks Jessica if she’s training to be a secretary. Really, Dennis? Anyway, Jessica thinks he’s cute and of course he fancies her, seeing as he's got a pulse and the Wakefield twins induce boners wherever they roam.

The next day at school, everyone is out for the Bart race trials and Elizabeth is being an insufferable wench, pestering Roger to try out for the race, as he could really use the scholarship prize. He’s visibly annoyed with her, but Elizabeth won’t let up because she’s a self-righteous pain in the hole, and even though we’re told how she’s saying everything “gently” like she’s the good guy, she’s acting like a dick and you just desperately want someone to turn around and tell her to shut the fuck up. Anyway, Lila overhears the conversation and starts to egg him on too for her own amusement and because she thinks he’ll make a fool of himself. So because Roger loves Lila, he decides to run as it might give him a chance to win her over. He joins the other runners on the track at the last minute and kicks everyone’s ass, beating Bruce to the finish line and surprising everyone. He also does it all in “faded army fatigue pants and red t-shirt”, rather than fancy running gear like the other athletes, and although according to Jessica, “his taste in clothing leaves something to be desired”, what he’s wearing actually sounds pretty fucking hot if you ask me.

Everyone is all over Roger after he wins the race, telling him how brilliant he is. Everyone except his friend Olivia Davidson, the alafalfa sprout munching hippy. She’s sullenly writing about her feelings while sitting on the bleachers (the big emo head on her), and barely congratulates Roger on his win because she fancies him and now she's jealous that Lila is suddenly showing an interest in him. She goes off in a huff, presumably followed by a cloud of patchouli. 

GO HOME ROGER. Nice jumper, Lila.

The school principal gives Roger a fancy SVH tracksuit, which makes Lila suddenly think he’s SEXAY, so she butters his bread for him in the cafeteria. I really wish that was a euphemism, but the line genuinely reads:

“Oooh, let me do that,” Lila said, taking the pat of butter and his knife away from him.

I mean, I know Lila’s hot and rich and all, but that’s some fucking weird flirting, whatever way you look at it.

The coach and the school principal both tell Roger that he has to run in the Bart race, but he doesn’t have time to train because he’s the only one bringing money into the house with his part time job and doesn’t think his boss would give him the time off anyway, so he keeps failing to show up for practice. He also can’t meet Lila after school because of it, so she thinks he’s playing hard to get. While discussing this with Jessica at lunch, there's a great bit that just reminds us how genetically blessed and amazing the Wakefields are, in case the focus had been pulled away from them a bit too much.

Jessica took a big bite of her cheeseburger. Lila eyed her friend enviously. How could Jessica eat so much and never gain an ounce? Lila had to work like crazy to keep her slender figure. 

Boom. All the money in the world can't buy you the sexy Wakefield metabolism, Lila. Anyway, in a bizarre attempt to win Roger over, Lila writes this godawful poem for him:

Roger Barrett, a boy so fine

His speedy running is divine

In school too, he is very smart

He’ll walk away with the trophy at the Bart

In everything he operates at the highest stratum

We at Sweet Valley are so proud to have him.

I...just...what? Stratum? WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Meanwhile, Jessica has been hooking up with hot Dennis after hours in her Dad’s office, when everyone else is gone home. Elizabeth has gotten suspicious about what her sister is up to, so she sneaks into the building to spy on Jessica, presumably because she has nothing better to do and is an unbearable busybody. Ugh. She sees Jessica and Dennis shifting each other, the big stalker, and then sees them run into Roger while he’s doing his janitor thing. Elizabeth then blackmails her sister into keeping Roger’s secret, otherwise she’ll tell their father that Jessica has been dry humping some dude in the office every evening.

When he gets home, Roger rings Olivia in a panic and tells her all about his cleaning job and how he can’t run the Bart race at the weekend because he won’t be able to get time off and how worried he is that Jessica will blab to everyone in the school. While all this is going on, Lila calls Jessica looking for help to bag Roger, so Jessica comes up with a plan and tells Lila to throw a leaving party for Coach Schultz before the Bart dance, so Roger will have to attend. However, she also evilly plots to reveal Roger’s secret job while at the party, which will both humiliate Lila and somehow make Jessica the “star of the party”. Is that even a thing? Do parties have stars? I must be going to the wrong ones.

Anyway, the next day at school, the pressure is getting to Roger so he admits to Lila that he works as a janitor, and begins to feel proud of himself, even though Lila now looks at him with barely concealed disgust.  

“Roger’s integrity was admirable, but Lila wanted nothing to do with it.” 

Amazing. Who needs a guy with integrity or honesty or any of that stupid stuff? Not Lila Fowler, that's for damn sure. Roger then goes to tell the coach that he won’t be able to race on Saturday but it just so happens that Liz had her father call Roger’s boss and make him give Roger some time off, and then rang the coach to say that was all fine and dandy. It also turns out that the coach isn’t leaving at all, but we don't really care about that. Roger thanks Liz, and then runs off to Olivia, suddenly realising that he loves her. How handy.

Back at Ned’s office, Jessica has been getting frustrated that Dennis hasn’t picked up on her hints to get him to ask her to the Bart dance. Finally, she does the asking herself but he says he can't go, which makes her angry because NO ONE REJECTS JESSICA WAKEFIELD. Anyway, it turns out he’s fifteen, so Jessica dumps him because he can’t drive, even though she actually really likes him.

The day of the big race arrives, and Roger wins, breaking the Bart record while he’s at it. Lila suddenly reappears and lobs the gob on him, going on about how she never lost faith in him and she’s throwing a party in his honour. He turns her down so she gets all indignant and demands to know what could be more important. He tells her to mind her own damn business and goes off with Olivia. Hooray. 

I have to say, it wasn't exatly the best Sweet Valley High book, but the next one is all about slutty Annie Whitman, so things are looking up, kids.

Notable outfit:
There weren't nearly enough hilarious clothes in this book, but I'll give this one to peasant skirt enthusiast Olivia Davidson.

Olivia proudly showed off the floral print skirt. It was so long it nearly covered her Chinese sandals. “The latest in chic from Martha’s Thrift Shop. Goes well with the scarf, don’t you think?” She fingered the long strip of faded silk tied loosely around her neck.

Good for you Olivia.

Things I counted:
Number of pages: 158
References to the twins' blue-green eyes: 3
References to the fact that the twins are blonde: 2 (Must try harder.)
References to eyes/eyelashes/eyeballs: 52

Quelque Chose #22

Two weeks ago, my lovely, bold and brilliant grandmother died at the rather decent age of 93. She was Nanny Nonie to me, her thirty other grandchildren and her twenty-seven great-grandchildren. It's a frankly massive family tree that she's responsible for. Nanny was tiny, a demon for sweets and unfailingly honest. "Sit your big bum down here beside me, Kitty!" The picture above is from 1941 and she's with my grandad who died long before I was born. Her bobby socks are awesome.

As such, I hadn't really been in the form for blogging for the last while, but Sweet Valley snarking and general silliness will resume shortly.

The Not So Wonderful Witches of Oz

***

HERE BE SPOILERS! 

If you haven't seen Oz The Great and Powerful and don't want to know what happens, then I suggest skipping this post. Have a read of some Sweet Valley High recaps instead. Be grand.

***

I went to see Oz The Great and Powerful last week. I had heard good things about it, but the Bear had heard the opposite, so we decided to go and make our own minds up. Going into it I thought: "This has LOADS of female characters! Hooray!" However, coming out of the cinema that thought had changed to: "Well that had loads of female characters. And they all sucked."


I love witches and things about witches. When I was finishing my graphic design degree in college, I somehow managed to get away with writing a thesis about the portrayal of witches in art and pop culture and how the image of the witch has evolved over time. It was LOADS of fun to write, and despite my design lecturers looking confused as to what the hell I was up to when they asked what my topic was, my History of Art lecturer loved it. Witches are endlessly brilliant and interesting characters to write about.

So I had been really looking forward to seeing how the three witches in Oz would turn out, as SURELY they'd be powerful, independent and wickedly fun to watch, yes? SURELY they won't spend the entire film telling James Franco's con-man wizard Oscar how fucking brilliant he is, be riddled with daddy issues or appear to be utterly useless until a non-magical dude comes along to chance his arm at fixing everything, YES? Oh. Apparently not.

I liked James Franco in it, I know his character is meant to be a cad, a rogue, a bounder and whatnot and I'm entertained by the fact that every time he smiled in this film he looked like he was high as fuck.

Did someone say nachos?

But he was pretty much ALL the female characters talked about for the entire thing and the few times they weren't talking about him, the conversation was all about the previous wizard, i.e. Glinda's father. This film has THREE important and potentially awesome women in it, two of which are sisters and it doesn't even pass the Bechdel Test, a result which is quite frankly pathetic.


So what's the deal with these witches? Well, firstly there's Theodora, played by lovely Mila Kunis, who wears sexy leather pants and immediately falls for Oscar and his rapscallion charm when he initially bumbles his way into the land of Oz. Fair enough, he's got a routine for the pretty ladies, which involves a seemingly infinite supply of cheap music boxes, and it works. But he quickly ditches her and this alone is apparently enough reason for her to abandon all hope and become the green-skinned Wicked Witch of the West. Over a dude she literally JUST MET.

You used to be cool, man.

The film essentially boiled down the backstory of one of the most iconic villains of all time to a bitter, shrieking ex-girlfriend, which just seems incredibly insulting. The whole thing just reeked of "bitches be trippin', AMIRITE?" Fuck that noise.


The second witch in question, Evanora (Theodora's sister) has deceitfully taken over the throne of the Emerald City by killing Glinda's father and convincing the people of Oz that Glinda was responsible, resulting in her being banished and therefore out of Evanora's way. On paper she sounds like an excellent villain, but in reality, Evanora just wasn't that interesting. (Although to be fair, she's probably the least objectionable of the three witches in the film.) She wasn't as wicked as her sister turned out to be, but was sort of bad, without being complex or gripping or anything, probably not helped by the fact that she was so busy banging on about the wizard all the fucking time. To paraphrase Dr. Evil, she's the Diet Coke of evil. Just one calorie, not evil enough.

There was also the fact that it was revealed that she was using a magic necklace to disguise her true appearance, which was that of a hideous old crone, just in case we haven't been beaten over the head with the ugly = bad trope enough in the last while. Her dress was deadly though.


Finally, there was Glinda. Glinda the simpering good witch, who appears to have been instructed by her father's prophecy to wait for a man to come along and claim the throne that should actually be hers by rights. So she does fuck all except hang around spooky graveyards in a dark cloak for reasons that are never actually explained and not bother clearing her name or organising a resistance on her own (which she would be more than capable of, seeing as SHE'S MAGIC and knows the people and terrain, but whatever) until some idiot crashes his hot air balloon into a tornado. Sound.

As my friend Billy pointed out, when she brings Oscar to her fancy castle in order to begin coordinating the rebellion, it looks like she might boot camp his ass into a fighting wizard commander, but instead we get an insipid "oh look, she's falling for him" scene. She knows that Oscar doesn't have any powers like he pretends to and that he lies and tricks his way through life, but hey, it's ok, he should be in charge now because he's sort of good and WE MUST BLINDLY ABIDE BY THE PROPHECY.

Be a good girl and look after the kids instead. Bake a few cakes while you're at it, sure power and agency is for the menfolk, after all.

At this point she's also become a mammy of sorts to the porcelain girl that's been accompanying Oscar on his travels around Oz, offering to tuck her into bed and what have you because maternal women are automatically the good ones and women with no maternal inclinations whatsoever (Evanora, Theodora, me) are villains, obviously.

To me, Glinda just seemed like a fucking sap and ends up little more than a shimmery trophy wife for Oscar at the end, even though she proves herself to be more than a match for Evanora's magic. Boo and indeed hiss.

The producer of the film has been quoted in The Huffington Post saying QUITE SERIOUSLY that:

"...a fairy tale with a male protagonist is very hard to come by. But with the origin story of the Wizard of Oz, here was a fairy tale story with a natural male protagonist. Which is why I knew that this was an idea for a movie that was genuinely worth pursuing."

Because that's exactly what the movie industry is lacking in! STORIES ABOUT MEN! My GOD, when will all those lady bitches in charge of Hollywood WISE UP and realise that dudes are TOTALLY BEING MARGINALISED. I'M SUPER SERIAL YOU GUYS.

Get. To. Fuck.

The thing is, there were plenty of bits that I did like in the film, there were loads of fun little references to the 1939 film, some really well done CGI and the little porcelain girl was actually quite cool for the most part, but all of the above points just bothered me so much that by the time the film was over, the whole thing was decidedly meh.

It mostly just made me wish that they'd make a film version of Wicked, where the witches are actually layered, complex, interesting, funny, smart characters. Someone make that film already, goddammit.

Quelque Chose #21

From the 1940s right up until the 1970s, the surreal and gorgeous work of photographer Bruce Mozert was used to promote Florida's premier tourist atrraction, Silver Springs.

Mozert was a pioneer in the tricky world of underwater photography, building waterproof casings for his camera that allowed him to create amazing scenes with pretty girls, showing off the the unique clarity of the water in the area.

(More here and hat tip to the lovely Margot for bringing it to my attention.)

Queen Angelyne

A few weeks ago, while on the productivity-sapping vortex of endlessly clickable links also known as Buzzfeed (Greatest Things That Ever Happened On Tumblr? Yes please! Mitt Romney in Disneyland? Sure it'd be rude not to! Some excuse to show a whole bunch of Mean Girls gifs? DON'T MIND IF I DO) I ended up reading a list of 35 Signs You Grew Up in Los Angeles in the 90s for some reason. Even though growing up in the middle of nowhere but quite near Dungarvan in the 90s is probably as far removed from L.A. in the 90s as you could possibly get.

(Goddammit, about 20 minutes have passed since I typed that last sentence, because I've ended up on Buzzfeed AGAIN reading about things that Taylor Swift said this one time. HELP. ME.)

Anyway. One of things on the L.A. in the 90s list was the following:


Angelyne? Who IS she? Is she a real person? That hair! That rack! Is it an ad for a strip club? WHY WON'T THIS BILLBOARD TELL ME ANYTHING?

So off I went to find out more about this mysterious woman, as I'm sure was the exact point of the sign in the first place. It turns out that Angelyne is something of a cult icon in L.A. and commonly known in the area as The Billboard Queen. She's actually a model-slash-actress-slash-singer, but became famous for the self-promoting billboards of her in varying bodacious pin-up girl poses that popped up all over the Los Angeles landscape throughout the 1980s and 90s.


What's interesting, considering that she's primarily famous for being famous (locally, at least), is that not much is actually known about her. She mostly refuses to answer questions, but when she does, gives contradictory information, so there's all this mystique surrounding her, which is kinda awesome. She's even listed on the Los Angeles County registrar of voters as simply "Angelyne". Because Angelyne don't need no surname.

There were rumours that the billboard companies or a millionaire sugar daddy paid for her giant ads when they went up, but she has credited investors with the financial side of things in the past, as well as claiming that it was all her own doing. The initial idea behind the billboards was to promote the rock band she was in at the time (called Angelyne, naturally) but once the signs went up, Angelyne the Billboard Queen was born. 


Over the years, she's been known for driving around L.A. in her hot pink Corvette with a vanity plate that reads ANGELNN and there are websites dedicated to sightings of her, but not in a creepy way, in more of a "oh my God, there she is!" kind of way. It's like she's a mythical creature from the city's gritty, sleazy past, a time before any idiot could be a star through the means of reality TV and YouTube, a self-made cult heroine.

Angelyne still drives around the city, reportedly selling t-shirts and merchandise out of the boot of her pink car to her fans. She's a much older woman at this stage, but has resolutely maintained her human Barbie doll brand, normally head to toe in eye-watering pink and leopard print. Recent pictures of her are all either unflattering paparazzi shots, or fan photos where she'll strike her signature pose with her leg raised and coquettishly hold a magazine with her as the cover girl over her face. I find her quite endearing, and while her outfit choices may be debatable, well that's her look and by god she's sticking to it.


While she never quite got her big break, she had bit parts in a few different films, one of which was 1988's campy and fun Earth Girls Are Easy, which starred a rather young Jim Carrey, Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis. The director decided to give her a walk-on part, or rather, "a lean-in part", as he felt that she was "the Patron Saint of a certain side of L.A."



She released a song some time in the early 80s called My List, and made a music video that featured her driving her pink Corvette around town. Considering some of the videos from this particular decade, I think hers holds up pretty well. I mean, it's SUPER EIGHTIES, but it's fun and cute and the song is actually pretty catchy and when she smiles around the 1:50 mark, she looks really beautiful.



Angelyne's billboards have appeared in an estimated thirty five films and tv shows, including Get Shorty, Volcano and the title sequence of Moonlighting. Her signs have all disappeared at this stage, but they were such an iconic part of the Hollywood landscape, that a replica of her first one was built as part of a recreated Sunset Strip for the filming of the Eighties-set movie version of Rock of Ages.

She ran for Governor of California in 2003, the year that Arnold Schwarzenegger won, finishing 28th out of 135 candidates and has claimed in interviews that she's an alien being from another world. (Which makes me wonder what the deal is with human Barbie dolls believing that they're aliens, as Ukrainian woman Valeria Lukyanova appears to have similar beliefs. Maybe they're on to something?)


She's become so ingrained in L.A. pop culture, that she's had a robot based on her in Futurama (Remember Angle-een? That's her!) and Fergie dressed up as her for Halloween last year. The pink Corvette bag was a nice touch. She was also featured in the video for Moby's We Are All Made Of Stars in 2002, along with her billboard, obviously.


There are great (although fairly brief) interviews with her here and here, if you want to know more about Angelyne. I for one can't get enough of her, I just find her so fascinating for some reason.

A pink unicorn out and about in downtown L.A.

There's Been A Murder

In a stroke of total genius, my parents got myself and the Bear a murder mystery weekend as a Christmas present. Having been itching to get my Jessica Fletcher on since the start of the year, the weekend in question finally arrived and OH THE FUN. It took place in Faithlegg House Hotel, just outside Waterford city, which is probably the fanciest hotel I've ever stayed in and perfectly lends itself to a weekend of murder scenes and clue-solving, because, y'know, LOOK AT IT:

It's just so...murdery.

When we were checking in on Friday evening, the people ahead of us were duly sent off to their numbered rooms, but when our turn came we were handed a key and informed that we would be staying in the Cornelius Bolton room. The whatnow?

HOLY SHIT OUR ROOM HAS A NAME AND NOT A NUMBER, thought I.

It turns out I wasn't getting excited for nothing, as the room was MASSIVE, had a super high ceiling, four huge windows, an enormous bathroom and most importantly - A MOTHERFUCKING FOUR POSTER BED. You see, it has long been an ambition of mine to sleep in a four poster bed, so my parents, the big legends, only went and saw to it. Achievable goals, people. Achieveable goals are entirely the way to go.


After jumping up and down on the bed for a bit (because...obviously) and having The Best Steak Sandwich Of All Time in the bar, it was time to get acquainted with our host, Detective Inspector Lazarkie. The theme for the murder mystery was a medical one, as it was set in a Chicago hospital. We were informed that a hotshot surgeon had been murdered, handed a list of suspects and split into named teams. I was raging that we weren't on Team Fletcher. RAGING. Instead, the Bear and I found ourselves on Team Ace Ventura, which was ok really, seeing as he's probably my second favourite detective. I guess.

On Saturday, we could inspect the murder scene, while different clues were posted on the wall of the "incident room" (i.e. hotel ballroom) throughout the day, which provided bits and pieces of backstory and motive for each suspect.

Dun dun DUUUN!

We had most of the day to ourselves, so we hung out in our amazing room, had a go of the jacuzzi, steam room and sauna and generally lolled around the place like fancy bastards. The only time we left the hotel was to procure a bottle of Jameson and two dusty bottles of ginger ale from the nearby shop. Best. Day. Ever.

On Saturday night, there was a press conference where we were introduced to the suspects, and got to question them between courses at dinner. It was a fancy dress dinner, so in the week beforehand, we decided to use costumes we already had in the house, namely a dog suit for the Bear and a sheep costume for me. Not just any sheep though, Chris the Sheep from Father Ted, as in KING OF THE SHEEP.

However, as the rest of the sixty-odd participants filed into the room, it turned out that they either didn't bother dressing up, or adhered to the hospital theme and arrived in scrubs or sexy nurse outfits. While the Bear and I sat at the table dressed as a dog and King of the Sheep.

ANYWAY.

By the end of dinner, the suspects had been narrowed down to two possibilities, so we had to fill out solution sheets with who we thought the murderer was and what their motive might have been. After a bit of disagreement with the rest of the team, in particular one woman who wouldn't let go of her theory that the male murder victim and one of the female suspects were the same person and then insisted that it was actually a particular character's mother who WASN'T EVEN A SUSPECT, LADY we settled on an answer. (The same woman said she didn't like Jessica Fletcher earlier on in the day, which elicited gasps of horror from both me and the Bear. Seriously.)

We got to play Operation at dinner. Most fucking fiddly game ever.

The next morning, the killer was revealed, but all the teams had chosen correctly. So the winners were determined by two quiz rounds from Friday night where we had to identify celebrities from photos where we could only see their eyes, and name the TV shows and films that ten theme tunes came from. Team Ace Ventura kicked ass at both rounds and we were declared the winners, snagging a bottle of wine each for our efforts. Hooray! A tremendous weekend was had by all.

Sweet Valley High Revisited - Heartbreaker

I love writing these Sweet Valley High posts, but MY GOD they take forever to do. I usually end up reading the book I'm recapping about three times over, between counting things, looking for ridiculous quotes that I forgot to make a note of the first time around, and generally making sure I've covered all the most hilarious/weird parts. I'd love it if it was my actual job to just read SVH books all day and write smart-arse blog posts about each one, but unfortunately real life and real life work and hangovers and suchlike have a tendency to get in the way. But anyway, enough of that. Onwards to book eight! 

Sweet Valley High #8: Heartbreaker


Our story begins with Jessica rehearsing the drama club's spring play, Splendor in the Grass, with Bill Chase and having him kiss her over and over as she insists it's not right each time. You see, at the end of the last book, Bill was supposed to go on a date with Elizabeth, but Jessica went in her place as revenge for him turning her down when she asked him to one of SVH's four thousand dances this one time. On the date, he told her he loved her, then Jessica revealed that she was Jessica and since then has somehow convinced him that it's actually her that he loves. For the hell of it.

At school, Elizabeth sees Todd with his arms around some mysterious hottie, who turns out to be Patsy Webber, an old girlfriend of his. Patsy has just come back from living in Paris, and has "coppery-red hair cut fashionably short in back, with a tumble of curls that dipped over her forehead", which is totally sophisticated you guys, and makes her sound like she's a member of The Holograms. Elizabeth gets all jealous of how glamourous and sexy Patsy is and tries to convince herself that she has nothing to worry about.

Jessica gets Bill to call over to her house with a script for the play, despite the fact that she's not even going to be there as she's got a date with Tom McKay. So Bill turns up and is all disappointed when Elizabeth answers the door. Bill leaves and drives off to the beach to stand around in moonlight and feel his feelings. We learn that Bill had a girlfriend called Julianne back when he was living in Santa Monica. Julianne was cute and blonde and into surfing, just like Bill and "they were both crazy about old movies and monster comics and Mexican food". She actually sounds like great craic and more fun than pretty much everyone in Sweet Valley. But...disaster struck! (Of course it did, it's SVH after all.) They had a big argument one night at a party, so Julianne stormed off and got a lift home with her friend and was killed in a horrible car accident. We also learn that he turned Jessica down that one time ages ago because she reminded him too much of Julianne.

While Jessica is busy fucking around with Bill's feelings, DeeDee Gordon is wistfully pining for him from the wings. At one point Bill is giving DeeDee a surfing lesson while everyone is out at the beach, which winds Jessica up because apparently he's supposed to be at her beck and call at all times, even though she's off dry humping Tom McKay every other night. She interrupts DeeDee's lesson with Bill, by swishing out to them in her "bronze wet-look bikini" (which is either a continuity error, as she bought a bronze, wet-look one piece in Secrets, or she has TWO bronze wet-look swimsuits. Which wouldn't surprise me in the least, it being Jessica Wakefield and all) and being all flirty so that DeeDee runs off crying.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth is sad because Sexy Patsy turned up at the beach and Todd went swimming with her and now she's super jealous because she thinks Todd wants to bang his ex-girlfriend. She also runs off crying, but meets Enid Rollins in the car park, along with Olivia Davidson and some bird called Lois Waller. I'm only really including this bit because of the appearance of this line:

"Lois Waller made her a little uncomfortable - always trying so hard to impress people, to be in the centre of things."

Which is a bit fucking rich, considering her twin is the kind of person who quite literally stops a pool party later on in the book so everyone will watch her dive into the water. Shut up Liz.

Jessica continues to ladycock-block DeeDee, practically jumping in front of her every time Bill talks to her, for no reason other than to keep him for herself even though she doesn't actually want him. She's such a genuinely terrible person. Bill is infuriatingly oblivious to her manipulations and treats DeeDee like shit, abandoning her every time Jessica bats her trampy eyelashes at him. Jessica invites the drama crowd over to her house for a pool party after rehearsal one evening, but makes it sound like it'll just be her and Bill so he'll bail on his plans to go surfing with DeeDee. Unsurprisingly, he ends up miserable when Jessica spends the evening getting felt up by Tom.

Elizabeth arrives home from the library, to find her dad in the living room while everyone is out in the back garden by the pool.

"Elizabeth was struck, as she often was, by how athletic her father looked for someone who spent so much of his time at a desk poring over legal briefs."

Stop checking your father out Liz, you weirdo.

Anyway, she gets into her "striped two-piece" and heads out to the pool to meet Todd, who is already there. But UH OH, he's leaning over Sexy Patsy, who is lying on her stomach with the back of her bikini top undone like some kind of whore, while he slowly rubs suntan lotion on her back. NOT COOL TODD. Elizabeth runs off to her room all upset and Todd doesn't know what the hell is going on, because apparently there's nothing wrong with massaging lotion onto your half naked ex-girlfriend. Jessica comes up to the room to see what's wrong, and when Elizabeth tells her she thinks there's something going on between Todd and Patsy, instead of consoling her like a NORMAL NON PSYCHOTIC PERSON, Jessica says "now that you mention it, I have noticed Todd spending a lot of time with Patsy at rehearsals", because she feels like Todd takes up too much of her sister's time. What the actual fuck? I looked up the characteristics of what makes a person a sociopath, and guess what? ALL THE TRAITS APPLY TO JESSICA.

This is actually one of the best book covers in the entire Sweet Valley High series. Jessica looks like a soccer mom who hasn't realised that her pool boy plaything prefers to have sex with dudes.

So it turns out that DeeDee's father is some big shot Hollywood agent and after seeing a rehearsal of the play, has chosen someone who he thinks has real talent, but won't reveal who until the end of the week, on opening night. Naturally, Jessica assumes it's her and actually stops torturing Bill for a while as she's too busy being unbearably smug about her supposed film star future. So when Bill asks her if she'd like to go to the cast party with him on opening night, she turns him down and suggests he ask DeeDee instead, as she's got better things to do now than dangle her vagina in front of some surfer dude.

That evening, DeeDee and Bill are out surfing, because apparently DeeDee is now good enough to enter the Women's Junior Surfing Championship after a few lessons and she needs to practice for the competition. But Bill is so busy feeling sorry for himself after being rejected by Jessica that he doesn't notice when DeeDee enters a wave a few seconds too late and gets pulled underwater. When he eventually spots her floating face-down in the water, he springs into action, bringing her back to the shore and giving her CPR. While he's giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, he suddenly realises how pretty she is, which is kind of an odd place for someone's mind to go when the person in front of them is half dead.

DeeDee comes to, but instead of calling an ambulance, or taking her to A&E, seeing as y'know, SHE PROBABLY HAS A CONCUSSION, Bill realises that he's actually crazy about her so they start shifting in the sand, because going to the hospital is for quitters. Also, every time Bill has some manner of emotional upheaval in this book, his feelings are described with a hilariously heavy handed sea-related metaphor.

"When he kissed her it was as natural as a wave breaking."

"Jessica's appearance was like a wave knocking him over."

"Being in love was a lot like getting wiped out by a wave, he thought."

"The feeling must have been there all along, tugging at him like an undertow beneath the calm surface of their friendship."

"He suddenly felt as if he was the one who was drowning."

HE LIKES SURFING, YOU SEE.

Meanwhile, Liz has been moping around over Todd instead of actually talking to him, ever since the suntan lotion/naked back fiasco and subsequently seeing Todd with his arms around Patsy in school. Opening night of Splendor in the Grass eventually arrives and the play gets a standing ovation, while Jessica blows kisses to the adoring crowd like the insufferable diva she is, convinced that she's about to be discovered as an actress. Unfortunately for her, it turns out that Bill is the one that DeeDee's father has his Hollywood agent eye on, so she ditches Tom McKay like yesterday's jam, in order to hop on Bill's movie star coattails. DeeDee runs off crying when Jessica wedges herself between her and Bill and starts cooing and purring at him, not letting him get a word in edgeways when he really should be telling her to go fuck herself.

DeeDee meets Roger Barrett ouside while she's crying her face off, who comiserates with her as he's in love with Lila Fowler but he's all poor and nerdy so he doesn't stand a chance. They decide to go along to the cast party together, even though they're both miserable. Elizabeth and Jessica arrive at Lila's mansion for the party, but Elizabeth runs off crying (there's an inordinate amount of running off crying in this book) when she sees Sexy Patsy. While she's outside crying, Todd appears and demands to know what the hell is going on with her. He explains that he had his arms around Patsy that day in school because her French boyfriend had dumped her and he was just comforting her. They make up and exchange I-love-yous. Aww. I guess.

Inside at the party, Jessica is almost sitting on Bill's lap and probably giving herself friction burns from all the rubbing up against him she's doing. When DeeDee arrives with Roger, Bill jumps up and runs over to her, spilling his ginger ale on Jessica (ha! Fuck you Jess). Anyway, Bill finally straps on a pair and tells Jessica he's with DeeDee now. So Jessica runs off crying. And her Plan B boy Tom is now hooking up with Sexy Patsy. Everybody else is happy, so yay!

Notable outfit:
The appearance of Jessica's wet-look bronze bikini might have taken this honour, only it already did in Secrets, and anyway Patsy's totally sophisticated Parisian wardrobe wins out.

"She looked stunning in a low-cut halter-top jumpsuit made of some shimmery, peach coloured fabric."

YES. SHINY JUMPSUIT BONUS.

Things I counted:
Number of pages: 134
References to the twins' blue-green eyes: 4
References to the fact that the twins are blonde: 7
Amount of times people blush: 24 (TWENTY FOUR. For realsies.)

Shake Your Whammy Grammy Funky Song

While scrolling through all the galleries and slideshows of BAFTAs and Grammys dresses, I found myself getting increasingly annoyed with how anyone that showed a bit of personality or divilment in their choice of attire was relegated to the Worst Dressed lists. Balls to that, says I.

The endless shots of black dresses at the BAFTAs quite frankly bored the tits off me (apart from Helen Mirren and her deadly pink hair, obviously), so I've decided to show some love to my favourite gúnas of the Grammys, all have which have appeared on the Worst Dressed lists.


I think Florence Welch looked fucking mighty in her slinky, shiny, spiky jewel-green dress. Like a sexy stegosaurus. And I love a bird with a big nose, being one myself.


Estonian singer and songwriter Kerli has been given a right rough time of it, with fashion writers sniffily deriding her makeup and devil horns, placing her as the star of their Worst Dressed or "What were they thinking?" style of lineup. I think she looks absolutely balls out brilliant. She describes herself as "bubblegum goth" and the fact that her bag looks like it might be a turtle of some description only further endears her to me.


Kimbra, of plinky-plonky earworm "Somebody That I Used To Know" fame has also been scornfully dismissed with lines like "New Zealand singer Kimbra wore a bizarre netted number on the red carpet" and "Kimbra looked like she was wearing a dancing costume and the dress had way too much going on. She certainly stood out, but for all the wrong reasons!" HAHAHA YOU'RE HILARIOUS, FASHION WRITER LADY. In my opinion, Kimbra looked bloody marvellous, like a sparkly woodland fairy that's scandalising the forest by becoming a showgirl. Also, she looked so genuinely happy and excited on the night, it just seems mean to be a jerk about someone so endearing. YOU GO KIMBRA.

Also, as an aside, does anyone else think it sounds odd when fashion writers go on about how someone's makeup "could have used a red lip", as if they only have one? Like, you wouldn't say someone was "rocking a stylish black pant", or "looked amazing in a stripey sock". So yeah. Stop that.

Quelque Chose #20

Disneyland's backstage cafeteria for park staff in 1961. I love this photo. Sure where else would Snow White, an astronaut, Goofy and a cowboy grab some lunch?

(via)

Down in Dungarvan

Towards the end of last year, I took part in an exhibition organised by my good friend Noeleen called Brief Exchange. Well, it's back! The second show is an online only affair and the results have all been added to the Brief Exchange website for all to peruse.

This time around, I was given the following brief:

On his album 'Born in the USA' Bruce Springsteen sings about 'My Hometown'. Love it or hate it we all have one. Design / illustrate or photograph a poster inspired by your hometown.

I have to admit, I was pretty stumped on this one for quite some time, but finally thought of an angle I was happy with when there was a week to go until the deadline, just like the last time around. Because I'll never learn.

Anyway. The angle was zombies, because, yes, I know, I never shut up about them. So I decided to put my knowledge of my hometown to good use and came up with a survival guide to Dungarvan in the case of a zombie attack.

Clickedy click to enlarge

Dungarvan is one of those places that has a ridiculous number of chemists for the size of town it is. There are nine, to be exact and eight of them are all within spitting distance of each other, so I worked that into the poster by simply marking out where they were on a map of the town centre, along with other places to scavenge supplies from during the zombie apocalypse.


There's a 12th century shell keep called King John's Castle down by the quay in Dungarvan, so I figured it'd be an ideal place to hole up in reasonable safety from the undead, what with the big ass stone walls enclosing an 18th century barracks and all.  


Finally, seeing as it's wise to have an escape plan in case everything goes to shit, the nearby Cunnigar seemed like a good route to the nearby and less populated countryside. Also this way I could include a zombie warning sign in Irish for the craic.


So that was my submission for the second Brief Exchange show. The other posters and the briefs that they're based on are all on the website (click here to view them) and there's some truly excellent design going on over there.

Look out for the poster that came out of the brief I submitted, where I asked the designer to create a page of a helpful guide book for time travelling tourists. It's awesome.