Lord have mercy, dear readers, there was some actual
heat in Genoa City this week, and I'm not talking
about a spring thaw! I don't know why Adam and
Heather hadn't been paired until now, but their
chemistry is refreshing. I will admit that Adam's
opening line of "Nice glutes!" was pathetic, but
hey, once the martinis started talking, it was all
good. I'm ignoring the fact that it's incredibly
stupid to inform a guy you just met that there's no
one who needs to know your whereabouts and then
invite him up to your hotel room. Ignoring! Ignore,
ignore, ignore! Because I finally got to see some
passionate necking that wasn't of the sickmaking
variety among two people who were born in the same
decade. How exciting!
Heather's bright pink strappy dress was flattering
and super-cute, but why has she dyed her hair mousy
ash-brown? She still has some of the best hair of
all the females in terms of style and overall
condition, but that dirty dishwater color does
nothing for her. Then again, she prefers her
martinis "dirty", so why not her hair color? Also,
for someone so dedicated to her work that she rarely
accepts social invitations, are we to believe she
stashes a sexy dress in her gym locker "just in
case"? Oh well. Whatever! They were HOT. On the
other end of the work-ethic spectrum, Amber Moore
sent her elfin boyfriend off on tour with his
lesbian dad while wearing a black tunic with
metallic gold chevron stripes that can only be
described--and in fact was described by Robert, one
of my readers--as "a sort of Nordic Isis." I loved
that! So perfect. Blowing kisses to you, Robert!
Rewinding for a moment to earlier in the week,
Jana's outfit for her first day of personal lemonade
delivery was a fetching cream-colored belted jacket
with a portrait collar over a short, swishy, full
skirt in a shade of terracotta. She looked terrific
until you noticed the bright green hair extensions
twirled into a nest on the back of her beehive
hairdo! And she had some kind of pin on her lapel
that resembled a kitchen cabinet doorknob. Her new
boss-lady, Sabrina, was wearing a black V-necked
dress with a pleated skirt that looked to be silk,
with a wide red sash around the empire waist. It
didn't completely suck, but you know what did (in
addition to Gloria's Jabot proposal to stink up your
passport)? Watching Corpsey Cadaverface breathing
numbers into the phone while Victor sat a few feet
away giving her the thumbs-up. If people are stupid
enough to throw away $14,350,000.00 on a DEAD SHARK
IN A TANK, that's their prerogative, but I shouldn't
have to watch it! Where can I get a job serving
lemonade to billionaires who like to piss their
money away on the Emperor's new clothes? Sign me the
hell up for THAT gig. Shit, man, I'm totally putting
a dead bird in a shoe box of Jell-O and selling that
masterpiece on e-bay.
The Lady Lumberjack got himself a haircut! What do
you know! Now it's back to being shorter and spiky
instead of incrementally moving closer and closer to
adapting Gloria's helmet 'do, as was the case in
recent weeks. Paul "Clueless" Williams, however,
seems to be growing his plugs out. They're looking a
little fuzzy, like Richard Simmons would look if he
buzzed his head. Paul's still a good looking guy,
but he's never going to regain the gloriously
feathered mane of his youth, so he'd better watch
it.
Speaking of crispy hair, did Lauren spend Thursday
afternoon rubbing hers on the pavement? It looked
like she'd hot-rollered her mane and then hung out
in a wind tunnel for six or seven hours. That shit
was insane. I think she was trying for "sexy bedhead"
but it came off as "Hi, I live under a bridge". Her
green lingerie trimmed with black lace was nice, but
Good Lord, what deal has she made with the Devil to
keep those bazookas of hers flying high the way they
do? Jeez, mine were lower than that when I was 18.
If they get shoved any higher, Lauren's breasts are
going to suffocate her.
Perhaps inspired by Sabrina's toilet-paper "I'm a
lilac!" dress of weeks past, Victoria decided to
dress up like an iris for work on Wednesday. I
shouldn't even say "work" because all she does is
whine to Mommy about Adam and Victor. Her
short-sleeved top was a deep periwinkle blue verging
on purple--very vivid--and its scooped, ruffled
neckline made her look like she'd stapled a cheap
plastic lei to her blouse--you know, the kind the
drunkest guy at the party puts on right before he
starts leading a conga line around the house and
then pukes in the bushes outside. Aloha! Hang loose!
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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