It's official, dear readers: Phyllis is branching
out. Remember how shocked I was last week when she
wore a black dress that wasn't cut down to her
nipples in front? Well, she surprised me again on
Monday by swishing around the office in a charcoal
gray short-sleeved, V-necked dress with a full
skirt. Phyllis never wears anything with a
full skirt! Her dresses usually resemble what my
younger sister Genevieve Van Horne calls "human
condoms" - stretchy columns of fabric tight enough
to cut off all circulation between the neck and the
knees. Surrounded by yards of swingy pleats, all
Phyllis needed was a high ponytail and saddle shoes
and she could have been attending a Sock Hop. Lord
knows she's old enough to have rocked around the
clock in her youth!
Speaking of clocks, how pathetic was Gloria, moping
around the Yawn Abbott Memorial Mansion of Wasted
Lobster Tails in a long black floral silk robe,
glumly chomping on chocolates and listening to the
clock tick loudly? Has she never heard of TV? DVDs?
Shopping? Going for a walk? Why would you sit around
in dead silence feeling sorry for yourself when you
have the time and money to do whatever you want?
Gloria is one of these people who can't do anything
by herself. She requires an entourage just to gas up
her car or bring in the mail.
In other news of People Who Need People, Victoria
needs to quit acting like Sabrina is the second
coming of Christ. I realize that since Victoria has
no friends, this one Eurotrash cross-dresser is
going to be the target for all her squealing
affection, but for God's sake, Vicky, have some
dignity. When she cooed that Sabrina "already has
the perfect 'I'm a brilliant art curator' wardrobe"
we could practically see the bluebirds of
infatuation circling her disheveled head. So I guess
brilliant art curators wear horrid high necked
sack-dresses that make them look like the Queen Mum?
That blazing red thing Sabrina had on yesterday did
nothing for her. It was bloused over and belted low
at the hips, and succeeded in hiding any feminine
curves she may or may not have. I guess she needs to
wear things loose and high-necked so that her chest
hair and pre-op wiener don't show.
I tell you what, I've had about enough of this
Lily-centric modeling shit. Since when do models
grin from ear to ear like they just got a candygram
from the cutest boy in the seventh grade? Aren't
models supposed to look pissed off and possibly
stoned? Whoever designed that Thing she was wearing
for the photo shoot was high as a kite, that's for
sure. Criss-crossing straps of black patent leather
over a sheer black bodice? Hello, Gaultier already
did it in 1990 and it was called "Madonna's Blonde
Ambition Tour." Well, to be fair, he included lots
of wacky breast cones too. Ahhh, readers, life was
so much fun back when Madonna wasn't writing
children's books, looking like a desiccated turkey
carcass, and boring the general public to death with
her humorless existence. Anyway, back to Lily: I
loved her dove-gray tie-front top with the black
lace insets. That was covet-worthy. And see, since
it's a tie-front top she can wear it well into her
seventh month.
While behaving in an uncharacteristically pleasant
manner, Chloe was looking nice in a light-tan
cardigan with big gold beads around her neck.
However, when the camera revealed her lower half,
she was wearing a 1950's short pleated cheerleader
skirt. Is she meeting up with Phyllis at the punch
bowl later to gossip about who's going steady with
the captain of the football team? Jeepers!
Felicia Forrester proved beyond a doubt that no one,
No One can pull off a floppy neck bow, ever.
I thought her white cap-sleeved blouse was extremely
icky, especially with the slightly gathered yoke
above her bosoms. Did she really call Nick "classy"?
Surely I heard that wrong. In what universe is being
perpetually unshaven and having your long, greasy
hair slicked back considered "classy"?
The always unnecessary Devon looked as creepy as
ever with that scraggly attempt at a soul patch on
his chin. I actually have nothing to say about
Devon's style because he has none, but I just wanted
an excuse to complain about the following exchange:
DEVON: Spring break road trip!
CHLOE: A plane trip isn't a road trip.
DEVON: It is when you live in Genoa City!
WTF-ing F?! That statement was neither amusing,
clever or comprehensible. In Genoa City, do they
drive planes around on the roads? That can't be
safe. Or legal. Shut up, Devon, you fucking moron.
And shave!
Editor's note: Liza is a struggling freelance writer
who gives her talent at no cost to the Genoa City
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