Dear readers, I urgently need a volunteer to drop
another chunk of Styrofoam on Victoria's head and
send her back to la-la land, pronto, because damn if
that girl isn't looking progressively worse with
every coma-free week that passes in Genoa City. When
she's not skipping around town in screamingly bright
primary colors and two tons of black eyeliner, she's
apparently been visiting her favorite blind hair
stylist. Did you happen to notice that on Thursday
her hair was a few shades blonder all of a sudden?
And that her face was framed by roller disco
feathered wings? I can't say her hair was "styled"
so much as "bludgeoned into randomness" and it
looked as if she'd walked a mile in a hurricane
(though in factual truth they don't get hurricanes
in Wisconsin, not that the producers give a shit
about anything involving the real Wisconsin, as we
all know).
I thought it was hilarious that Phyllis asked her
how she's doing and whether or not she's happy to be
back at work, since she spends a sum total of seven
minutes a day at the freaking office. If I were
Adam, I'd be compelled to spit in her coffee for
being such a slacker. Somebody get me that guy's
cellphone number - I think I've found my volunteer.
Oh Adam! Incoming shipment of Styrofoam, my darling!
Victoria's electric-blue satin blouse on Thursday
was mystifyingly ugly. It looked like two equally
ugly blouses mated and all the recessive birth
defects manifested in their offspring. Is she
raiding Jana's closet these days? Jana herself was
playing smoochie-poo with her dear Kevin at the
Jitter Joint in a turquoise-blue sweater with white
daisy appliques all over it, and frilly white trim
at the neck. It was like a garment somebody's
bipolar grandma knitted during a manic phase. Happy
Happy Sweater! Just try to be depressed in this
sweater, I dare you! Jana's hair was pulled back
into a simple, pretty chignon, and I sort of liked
her choker of ornamental flowers, but with the Happy
Sweater it was overkill. Readers, she looked like a
demented Disney character. Once again, I'd like to
comment that somebody on this show has a really
funny idea of what Goth means.
Some people can get away with dressing like circus
freaks, and I'll tell you who's not one of them:
Amber Moore. Okay, first of all, she is the world's
worst receptionist. Who answers the phone and then
hollers out to her boss instead of putting the
caller on hold? I've experienced better phone
etiquette from my five year old nephew. Here's a
thought, Amber: you know full well these dumbasses
didn't want to hire you in the first place. How
about feigning the slightest bit of interest in
actually doing your actual job? You think competent
receptionists are that hard to find? And while we're
on the subject, how about wearing some clothes to
work instead of these crack whore ensembles? Amber's
latest work outfit consisted of a
WAY-off-the-shoulder red and gray striped mini-dress
with no back and cut-out sides. The fabric covering
her body was roughly the size of a dish towel and
about as attractive. Who dresses like this for work
if your job doesn't involve lap dances?
Speaking of inappropriate work attire, am I to
believe that middle aged women go traipsing around
in broad daylight wearing tight black
cocktail dresses? Well, if your name is Phyllis or
Lauren, the answer is yes. Phyllis' dress had a low
V back that came down to her coccyx and a plunging
sweetheart neckline in front. How she can stand
there and have a conversation with her son with that
much chestral real estate showing is beyond me. I
don't know how he can stand it. I'd be throwing
ponchos and blankets at her and crying "Please cover
up, Mommy! PLEASE!" Lauren was even worse in her
black lace-trimmed slip dress with her rack shoved
up to within an inch of her chin. At some point in
life, even if you have the body for it, these
choices in attire just seem pathetically desperate
instead of alluring.
Gloria's white streaks in front have been tinted a
beigey shade of ash blonde, and when she was wearing
that bright emerald green jacket on Thursday, I
swear to God the color made her hair look greenish.
Something's really "off" about her lately. She looks
very thin and frail, and her hair is like a stiff
sculpted helmet that never moves. It's not becoming.
You know what was flattering, though, was
that cute red leather jacket Jill had on this week.
Boy howdy, was I relieved, because I was in despair
after that blue sparkly caftan they made her wear to
the party last week. That kicky red jacket was sleek
and cute and it fit her like it was made for her. I
loved it! And she got to wear one of her big ol'
hardware necklaces again, hooray!
I just about fell over when I saw Sharon with her
hair parted on the side and curled with a big-barrel
iron. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It looked a
hundred times prettier that way, though I have to
say the rest of her outfit was very Strawberry
Shortcake with her pink plaid jacket over a red top
with a double-strand of pink beads around her neck.
But hey! The hair looked great for a change so I
can't complain.
Finally, we come to Sabrina, whom we cannot miss if
she won't fucking GO AWAY. Why does this woman dress
like a spinster Baptist? Can she ever wear anything
youthful or current? Where the hell is she shopping
- Dress Barn? Fashion Bug? When Victor arrived in
L.A. to waft his geriatric pheromones in her
direction, she had on a saggy magenta dress with a
high neckline, as usual, and now I'm starting to
wonder if she isn't hiding some horrifying deformity
on her chest. Maybe when she gets to know Victor
better, she can haltingly tell him the sad tale of
how she dated an artist and was helping him with his
sculpture when she was scarred for life by a splash
of molten bronze or something. Knowing Victor, he'd
just take her hand, gaze into her eyes and tell her
she smells like capers and oranges. En Francais, of
course! Ooh la la!
Editor's note: Liza is a struggling freelance writer
who gives her talent at no cost to the Genoa City
News. If you like her work and would like to
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