50 - Dawn's Big Date
Next - and last, because my psyche can't take any more of her - in the "Dawn is a heinous bitch" series: Dawn hilariously repulses all males, even though chicks are always wanting to touch her hair and stuff.
I started this forever ago, before some real-life stuff came up, and it's since been snarked, so I hope no one minds. I've also started a couple others that have since been done - quick informal poll, does anyone mind seeing the same book snarked twice? I like seeing an especially awful book torn six ways from Wednesday, but if anyone wants to request a book that hasn't been done yet, hit me up.
Hey, did you know Dawn likes health food and Mary Anne doesn’t? God, why didn’t they ever MENTION that before? We’re introduced us to this totally new and original concept as they discuss what snacks to serve at their New Year’s party: Mary Anne vetos tofu apple nut loaf and soybean pie, while Dawn maturely pretends to barf at the thought of hot dogs and mini pizzas. I grind my teeth as she smugs that they can both make their own snacks, “then we’ll see whose gets eaten first.” I don’t know what’s more obnoxious, that she’s delusional enough to believe that people at a party will actually eat her soybean pastry over, say, Tigger’s cat food, or their own limbs; or that she’s sanctimonious enough to try to force them to. Hey, Dawn, remember how Claudia the Human Ho-Ho always keeps around a bag of wood chips for you to gnaw because she’s a polite person who doesn’t try to force her food beliefs on you even though she’s so fanatical about her own that she draws Little Debbie porn? How about you give that a try sometime? Okay, good. Now come a little closer so I can kick you in the throat.
Little girl pigtails, secret passages, parents’ old yearbooks. Honestly, they could probably slip some erotica in there and I wouldn’t notice, because I black out whenever I see a line like, “Maybe I better start at the beginning. First let me introduce myself.” I have a degree in writing, inexplicably, and the single worst habit my professors had to beat out of me was the belief that every story had to start with the main character spending several pages describing himself in excruciating detail; also known as the “show, don’t tell” principle. Thanks, BSC! You’re the reason I drink.
Dawn veers away from the exposition for a moment to let us know that she’s nervous about meeting Logan’s cousin Lewis for the first time, but I don’t know what she has to be nervous about, because “other girls are always saying that I should be a model or an actress. They say, ‘Oh, I wish I had your silky hair.’ Or, ‘I’d die to have your skin.’...Personally, though, I can’t see it.” ...Oh, wait, you mean guys don’t LIKE it when you transparently fish for compliments? (“I get told all the time that I’m beautiful, with my sparkling blue eyes, my cornsilk hair, my flawless creamy skin - but they’re just lying. Right? RIGHT?”) And just to make this display even more obnoxious, she has to add, “THEY might have good hair and skin if they didn’t eat so much junk food.” Way to perpetuate the completely false belief that what you eat affects your hair and skin, way to make assumptions about the eating habits of people you don’t even know, and way to be a smug, superior, off-putting bitch. My wildest, most desperate dream is for Lewis’s response to be, “But Dawn, you ARE beautiful!...Your personality really sucks, though.”
Oh, and she also insists that even though she’s completely insecure about meeting Lewis, she’s not ACTUALLY insecure, because people are always saying what an individual she is. Because the very definition of a secure individual is basing your assessment of yourself on what other people say. You know what’s even more abysmal writing than having your main character tell you all about herself? Having your main character tell you all about herself and then having everything she says contradicted by her actions. It’s as though the writers hate the laid-back vegetarian California girl stereotype and want to expose it for the hypocritical pile of shit that it is. Now THAT would be some fantastic writing.
Dawn’s exercise in self-absorption is rudely interrupted when Mary Anne suddenly remembers their BSC meeting and they have to rush out the door, stopping only to get coupons from Sharon to do the party shopping. Sharon can’t find them, of course, because she used them to roll a fattie, and swears that this will be the year she finally kicks that drug habit. “That made me think,” Dawn says. “What kind of New Year’s resolution did I need to make?” Oh, god, pick me! PICK ME! I KNOW THE ANSWER!
Chapter 2: The Exposition Strikes Back! Kristy stink-eyes them for showing up at 5:31. Shut up, Kristy. I’m a pretty big stickler for punctuality, but jesus. People’s watches usually vary by a minute or two. Or they would, if K. Ron didn’t make them synchronize to the official club timepiece. I skim, as always, until I get to Claudia’s description, which is always kind of insulting, and I’m not disappointed: “When Claudia grows up I’m sure she’ll be either an artist or a fashion designer. Which is lucky for her. I don’t think she’d do too well at a profession that required a lot of regular school.” ...OUCH.
The Hills call for the first time, having been referred by the Johanssens, and Claudia takes down their information and says she’ll call back after they see who’s available. Kristy immediately bristles and wants to know if they asked for someone in particular because that’s not how the club works. Okay, a) Claudia just said they’d see who’s available, not “see if Mary Anne’s available” or something, and b) how would they even know who to ask for, since they’re brand-new clients? I love the way K. Ron freaks the hell out about her precious rules even when no one’s breaking them. She’s going to make some self-loathing submissive very happy someday. Also, the Hills’ daughter is named Sarah in this book, even though she’s named Sara every in other book. I think we need an “edited by Sammie” tag in this community. Dawn not-so-subtles with the foreshadowing as she takes the job: “A nine-year-old and a seven-year-old. Usually those are pretty easy ages to sit for. That’s what I thought, anyway, before I met Sarah and Norman Hill.” Dun dun dun.
It’s time for the dibbly fresh New Year’s party! Kristy shows up with some champagne and caviar for Sharon and Richard, and holy possession by a minor, Batman. Charlie was driving around with that? It would warm the black and shriveled cockles of my heart to see Kristy get picked up for alcohol possession while she was on the way to the front door. They actually have a realistic - by which I mean boring - conversation about cute boys instead of an in-depth brainstorm about how to solve Jamie Newton’s irritable bowel syndrome or something. I skim right past it, though, because I hated being thirteen. They squealingly call their crushes, but Dawn’s too scared to call Lewis and makes a New Year’s resolution to become more attractive to boys. She doesn’t know what that entails, exactly, “but whatever it was I was determined to do it.” Is that the sound of Dawn being buried under the crushing weight of her own ugly hypocrisy I hear? It sounds like the tinkling of bells.
Dawn arrives at the Hill’s for her sitting job and when Sarah answers the door, Dawn proceeds to creepily describe the way Sarah’s hair “fell softly to the bottom of her long neck.” You know she’s just thinking up these sensual adjectives to file away for later, when she wants to describe herself in Lewis’s ear. She comes in, noting the split level house’s “modern,” “unusual” layout - enter on a landing, stairs leading up on one side, stairs leading down on the other. The house I grew up in had exactly this layout, and so did every other house in the neighborhood. It was the local joke in the late 80’s that the contractor only knew one design and used it 300 times. In other words: shut up, Suzanne Weyn, and quit overdescribing every tiny detail to cover up for the fact that nothing happens in this book. Annoyingly, it’s not going to stop just yet, because we have to know that Norman is fat. Not stout, not husky, not stocky, not pudgy: FAT. I don’t know how Dawn was even capable of laying eyes on him without immediately launching into a tirade about how if everyone would just eat bean sprouts like her, they too could have her perfect figure. Shut up, Dawn. I know you didn’t say anything. Just shut up.
Norman says he’s going to go do his homework and disappears to his room, but Sarah knowingly says that he’s not doing homework. “Come on, I’ll show you,” she says, and Dawn tries to stop this slow-moving trainwreck by saying that maybe Norman wants a little private time. “‘Oh, no,’ Sarah replied firmly. ‘I know what he’s doing. And he’s not allowed. My mother told me to make sure he doesn’t.’ Without knocking, Sarah pushed her way into Norman’s room.” Jesus, Mrs. Hill. Masturbation is a totally healthy expression of - oh, he’s just sneaking junk food. Well, that was a setup of hilariously awkward potential wasted.
Dawn distracts Sarah by setting her up with The Little Mermaid, and for the rest of the job, Norman keeps binging on candy, Sarah’s friend Elizabeth comes over, and they’re both horrible to Norman about his weight. I skimmed past this part because I was a chunky kid and it makes me seriously uncomfortable, but the standout annoyance to this subplot is that NORMAN IS EXACTLY LIKE CLAUDIA. Like…Claudia squirrels away tons of candy and hides in her room to eat it because her parents don’t allow it, but it’s okay because she’s quirky. Norman squirrels away tons of candy and hides in his room to eat it because his parents don’t allow it, and he’s treated like a goddamn deviant. I’ve complained about the “Claudia never ever gains an ounce” phenomenon before, but the reason it gets me isn’t that she has a fast metabolism - some lucky people do - but because her never gaining an ounce means that she gets away with behavior that fat people are lambasted for. Newsflash: Unhealthy eating is unhealthy. Doesn’t fucking matter if you’re fat.
When Dawn gets home, Mary Anne lets her know that Lewis is officially coming to visit on January 13th, and wait, he’s supposed to be on a break from school? What middle school has a Christmas break in the middle of January? But Dawn has no time to figure out why Louisville public schools are so lax about scheduling, because that’s only a week away, and she can’t possibly become attractive in just a week. Well, at least she can admit it. Also, hilariously, she decides that Lewis will be her trial run at being a slut, and if she can impress him, then she’ll be safe to get a real boyfriend. Everything about this thought process is so fucked up.
She holes up with some fashion mags and discovers that her baggy clothes and lack of makeup aren’t hot at all. I’d say her smug, judgmental demeanor are really her most unattractive qualities, but apparently the bitch look was actually very big in 1992, because all the models look angry. Mary Anne catches her at it and is like, “Hey, I know a look that would be great on you! I didn’t say anything because I figured you weren’t interested. But as long as you’re looking for a makeover...” Dawn, who doesn’t care what people think of her AT ALL, remember, takes this to mean that Mary Anne thinks that Dawn is fugly and wants to change everything about her. Good thing she’s not INSECURE or anything.
The model Mary Anne has picked out to represent Dawn has big permed hair and is wearing “a light blue unitard that reached just below her calves. Over the unitard was a very short (the caption said ‘bolero-style’) faded blue denim jacket with all sorts of clunky pins on the top pockets. Her face was made up a little more heavily than some of the other models in the magazine. She seemed to have on more eye makeup. The makeup went with her expression. It was kind of tough and serious.” I think maybe the caption should have said “Jersey mallrat-style.” Any female who graduated between 1990 and 1993 could tour the high-school circuit giving choked-up inspirational speeches about avoiding this particular poor life choice. (“The bangs...dear God, the bangs...”)
Mary Anne mall-rats over Dawn by caking her up with makeup and curling her hair, and Dawn decides she needs to take a picture for Lewis so he won’t be too surprised when he sees her. If a guy needs to be forewarned about your appearance to avoid giving him a heart attack, it might not be the best look for you. Just a thought. While Mary Anne goes to find a camera, Dawn decides her clothes don’t look busted enough and starts scissoring up a shirt to make herself an off-the-shoulder top. Oh, jesus christ. AN OFF-THE-SHOULDER TOP. (Also - and I know I’ll get a million comments from people who know how to modify clothing and not make it look like shit, but I don’t believe Dawn is one of those people - I really can’t imagine anything trashier looking than a shirt you obviously just hacked up with a pair of kitchen scissors. I hope Sharon grounds her for ruining perfectly good clothes.) Just to complete the look, instead of smiling for the camera, Dawn puffs out her lower lip and glares, because she believes this makes her look “mysterious and alluring,” instead of the correct answer, which is “like a jackass.” I’d say Dawn is about ready for her own MySpace.
Chapter 6, or: I Loathe This Chapter and Everything It Stands For. It’s Claudia’s turn to sit for the Hills, and she actually likes Sarah, who is a little snotwipe, because she understands what it’s like to have a sibling who’s “odd.” Oh my christ - first of all, smart is not odd, CLAUDIA. I know that intelligence is scary and foreign to you, but learn to handle it, because the smart people will be taking care of you a few years from now, what with all the turpentine you’ve obviously been inhaling. Second of all, binge eating is not “odd.” Just because you’re a judgmental shit who doesn’t have the same motivations and problems as your sibling does not give you the right to fucking harass them.
Poor Norman is being bullied some more, and I cringe into a pillow until it’s over and he’s back in the kitchen, snorfing down cookies. Claudia catches him at it and tries to get him to stop, in a fit of irony so deep that I can taste blood. Where in God’s name does Claudia Fucking Kishi get off telling anyone to lay off the snacks? He points out that it’s his parents’ diet, not his, since they’re the ones who want him to be on it, and that eating makes him happy. Claudia tells him he’d be happier if he lost weight so kids didn’t tease him. No, he’d be happier if kids weren’t little shitstains. He should work on healthier habits, yes, but he should not have to lose weight to make people like him. Why would you want to bend over backwards to impress people who make your life hell? Why should he cater to that level of bullshit? I know the Lesson of the Week is supposed to be “The Dangers of Binge Eating,” but I really think that telling kids they have to reshape themselves to make people like them is sick.
We’re back to Dawn now, and she wants us to know that “time was running out. Less than a week remained before Lewis arrived.” Well, seeing as how she only had a week’s notice to begin with, I suppose this does now qualify as “less than a week.” She’s been practicing the New Dawn, via carrying around that horrendous picture of herself in her wallet and staring at it all day. It sounds like I’m making that up, but I’m totally not. It reminds her that the Old Dawn was so sweet (...that’s a stretch) but the New Dawn doesn’t give a shit about anyone and kicks puppies and scares nuns and is SO HARDCORE!11!!ELEVENTY! because that’s what cool kids do. When the teacher calls on her and asks for two common form of igneous rock, she knows the answer, but “cool kids didn’t sit up straight and answer all the teacher’s questions. They slouched and stared into space as if everything were a bore.” So she’s like, “Heavy metal and pop?” Oh, I see what you did there. Hilarious. The teacher actually thinks it’s pretty funny too, but when she prods again for the answer, Dawn just keeps acting like a vapid bitch and pretends she doesn’t know. I think I must have gone to a weird school, because at my high school, it was actually considered cool to be smart. People competed for the teacher’s attention, the best grades, the awards, everything. Some classes have a two-way tie for valedictorian, but my graduating class? Seventeen. We had SEVENTEEN valedictorians. (I was ranked a lousy sixth. I can’t talk about it.) That’s my long way of saying that kids at my school would have thought she was a dumbass for not being able to answer a simple science question, not revered her as the Queen of Cool. I’m also completely put out by the fact that this is actually a pop quiz she just failed. It’s one thing to get an answer wrong when the teacher just calls on you, and it’s another to purposely get your grade lowered. I hope that once Sharon’s done grounding her for ruining her clothes, she grounds her for sabotaging her grades.
Of course, because it’s cool to be stupid at SMS - Claudia is considered the height of cool, after all, so I suppose they could use “moron” as slang for “awesome” (“Your new shoes are so moron!”) - everyone is like, “That was BOSS, Dawn!” Don’t encourage her, people. “From that moment on, there was no stopping me,” Dawn says. Goddammit. SEE WHAT YOU DID?
She goes home and proceeds to butcher her entire wardrobe, and - spoiler! - I would love to know what happened when she went back to normal and all her clothes still looked like the rejects from a Whitesnake music video. Sharon must have kicked her ass into next week. Mary Anne is like, “Wow, that looks cute. You’re really going all out,” and Dawn actually gets pissed that Mary Anne isn’t trying to stop her, because what was wrong with her before? Besides the obvious, I mean. Do you guys get the sense Dawn might be a little bipolar?
Of course, not everyone thinks she looks cute - Kristy straight up tells her she looks like a dink, Stacey tells her that her eye makeup makes her look like a whore, and Claudia, continuing to accuse the pot of being Jessi, tells her that the whole look is totally f’ed up. I can’t decide what’s more hilarious: that Claudia actually told her she looked like hell, or that Dawn thinks Claudia is discouraging her just because she’s jealous and doesn’t want anyone to look cooler than she does. Oh, no, wait, it’s most hilarious that nothing anyone says, positive or negative, can make Dawn happy. Her life is going to be such a series of disappointments.
Continuing on her campaign of being bad, oh so bad, she’s slumped around at the BSC meeting chewing her very first piece of gum. Because bad kids chew sugarless gum at meetings of their babysitting club instead of smoking Camels behind the football bleachers. Kristy’s trying to organize a pizza party for Monday afternoon with the members and all their sitting charges, and wait - every one of them has a job at the same time? On a MEETING DAY? There are all kinds of problems with kids who can’t eat pizza and fussy babies and kids who won’t behave in public, so basically nothing about this plan is a good idea, but that has never stopped K. Ron before. Dawn doesn’t give a shit, though - because bad kids don’t give a shit - and is more interested in learning to blow bubbles. She starts cracking her gum annoyingly, and she’s pretty much a bad bleach job away from living in a trailer park at this point. Kristy asks her to cool it, and Dawn flounces and says she’ll never blow another bubble as long as she lives. God, I hate overdramatic reactions like that (“Could you turn down the radio?” “Fine, I’ll just THROW THE RADIO OUT THE WINDOW, will that make you happy? MUSIC IS DEAD TO ME NOW”). Shut up, Dawn.
Nobody really likes the new Dawn except Mary Anne, and she gets super defensive when Claudia says she liked the old Dawn better, even though she got pissed at Mary Anne for not saying exactly that. She actually says, “I was mad at all of them except Mary Anne. I was only annoyed and confused by Mary Anne.” Why the hell are any of them friends with her at all? They can’t do anything to please her anyway. Mary Anne tries to comfort her by saying they’ll come around, but she goes home in a huff and sends Lewis a semi-pornographic postcard saying she can’t wait to hear his hunky voice whisper in her ear. If it doesn’t crack and burst her eardrum, maybe.
Chapter 8! “There’s one thing about New York City I can’t get used to. It’s how bright it is at night.” I thought it was the part where you get mugged and left for dead in an alley? They’re on their way to La Guardia to pick up Lewis because he couldn’t get a flight into a local airport, and...uh, isn’t that a good couple of hours from Stoneybrook? I flew out of La Guardia while I was in New York and it took us an hour to get there just from our hotel. Seriously, he couldn’t have waited another day and saved the Brunos several hours? It would have given Dawn an extra day to start smoking and lose her virginity, too. As it was, her week was just too busy and she only got to third base.
I can’t imagine how uncomfortable it is for her to sit in the car for so long in the outfit she’s rocking, which she picked out at Zingy’s all by herself, and which consists of: “black ballet slippers; black lace capri leggings; a short metallic silver skirt with all this crinoliny stuff underneath that made it poof out; a stretchy, tight black-and-white striped top with long sleeves...six bangle bracelets, and a new pair of feather earrings that reached down to my shoulder.” Holy shit. She’s dressed like Madonna parodying herself.
When they meet Lewis the Dreamy at the airport, Dawn says it was love at first sight, even though Lewis doesn’t even smile at her. Much to Dawn’s chagrin, Mary Anne asks Lewis if Dawn looks like he pictured, and he’s like, “Yeah, no.” Dawn has a feeling she isn’t doing too well and doesn’t say much on the way home. HA. HA. HA. After they drop off Lewis, Mary Anne explodes at Dawn for not showing him any personality. Why does she even care? Dawn’s whiny, immature response is, “He hates me! All boys hate me! Everyone hates me! Wahhh!” Oh, Dawn. Not EVERYONE hates - well, yeah, pretty much everyone hates you.
Awesomely, Mary Anne hands her a magazine article called “You-Directed Conversation,” which says that Dawn should ask Lewis lots of questions about himself to seem interesting. Dawn asks if she does that with Logan, and Mary Anne says, “No...But Logan likes me the way I am.” OH MY GOD I just laughed so hard I was SCREAMING and my neighbor banged on the wall. Oh, shit. Woo. I’ve said it before, but Mary Anne’s burns are the fucking BEST.
Dawn wants to know if pretending to be interested in Lewis isn’t “sort of phony.” Um, more phony than dressing like a backup singer for Wham? Besides, if you aren’t really interested to know anything about him, maybe you don’t really want to be with him anyway? I’m just saying, asking someone you’re interested in about themselves really isn’t that phony. It’s called “getting to know each other.” Mary Anne just thinks that Dawn needs to do SOMETHING to get Lewis to like her, because her normal self is really not doing the job.
While Dawn fumes about the fact that the New Dawn is equally unattractive as the Old Dawn, Mary Anne arranges a double date with Logan, and when Dawn wants to know if Lewis actually wants to go on this date, Mary Anne says, “He didn’t say no.” Because he was too busy screaming and trying to book the next flight home, probably.
Stacey’s the next poor soul to sit for Norman and Sarah, and the Hills pounce on her the minute she walks in the door - Norman isn’t allowed to eat candy, Norman isn’t allowed to eat cookies, Norman isn’t allowed to eat, period, except for low-fat water, here’s Norman’s Richard Simmons video, we’ll be at the health club with all the other thin glamorous people who would shun us if they knew we had a fat child. Norman, predictably, sneaks food while his heinous sister has a picnic with her heinous friend, and claims it’s because he feels sad. When Stacey asks why he’s sad, he tells her all about how his parents say horrible shit about him. Like “I can’t believe he’s our son.” And “How come a smart kid like you can’t lose some weight?” Holy damn. Between the Arnolds and the Hills, a child therapist could make a KILLING in Stoneybrook. I hate this whole subplot.
Dawn’s been cramming for her big date by reading magazines to glean helpful advice like, “On a first date, don’t eat something that’ll give you the runs.” Wish I’d read that article, s’all I’m saying. She’s going to wear one of her janky self-styled skirts, but Mary Anne tells her she needs to wear something special - Mary Anne herself is wearing a “nice flowered dress,” a french braid, and makeup, but Dawn tells us that this does not look special and points out that Mary Anne is dressed casually. Uh, okay. What constitutes “dressed up,” then? Mary Anne breaks the First Rule of Effective Bitchery by reusing an insult, but it’s still delicious when she reiterates that Logan already likes her the way she is. Dawn says she doesn’t have anything else special to wear, and Mary Anne says she’ll lend her something. Dawn snots about the fact that Mary Anne, she of the little girl jumpers, is telling her how to dress. Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with you looking like you just stumbled off the Jerry Springer set, Dawn.
Case in point: Dawn thinks the denim skirt and black turtleneck Mary Anne lends her is too plain, and as soon as Mary Anne leaves the room, she smears on some hot pink lipstick, teases her hair, and hikes up the skirt a few inches. SKANK-AY! Awesomely, Mary Anne tells her she looks like hell but that its too late to do anything about it. HA.
When Logan and Lewis show up like a pair of manly studs, Dawn’s tries to follow the “You-Directed Conversation” tips, but she mixes up “asking Lewis about himself” with “saying Lewis’s name a lot and giving him bizarre compliments” and ends up sounding like an idiot. They go see Gone with the Wind, and does Stoneybrook have any theaters that actually show new movies? Also, Gone with the Wind is like four hours long; how the hell did they see the whole thing, go out to dinner after, and make the 10:30 curfew they mentioned? Also, why is the entire theater filled with nothing but small, unsupervised children at a torturously long, violent Civil War epic? Why do I even question these things anymore?
For some reason, Mary Anne decides to pinch Dawn with every word that comes out of her mouth. Oooh, is this like some sort of electroshock experiment to make her stop talking? That’d be okay. Oh, bollocks, Mary Anne’s just trying to make Dawn get popcorn so she and Lewis can romantically share it. I don’t know how sharing popcorn became some sort of cliché for budding romance, but personally, I don’t feel that letting your buttery hands brush against each other in the popcorn tub ranks particularly high on the sexual tension meter. Luckily, Lewis doesn’t think so either, because his idea of sharing popcorn means passing the bucket back and forth between them, leaving no chance for greasy hand lingering. I’m shocked that Dawn doesn’t go for the “Oh, is that your crotch I just grabbed? I was reaching for the popcorn” defense.
She does go for the next best thing, which is balancing the tub on the arm of the seat, waiting for Lewis to reach in, and then shooting her own hand in there to grab him like a tentacley, slippery predator. Unfortunately, she overshoots and knocks the popcorn everywhere. Smooth. Her other attempts at flirting are met similarly poorly; Lewis is transfixed at the screen and doesn’t notice when she leans against him, then she starts crying at a death scene and her two pounds of whorish eye makeup run all over the place.
After the movie, Mary Anne makes a last-ditch effort to spawn true love and tells Lewis what an individual Dawn is, but Lewis isn’t having any of it. The minute he leaves, Dawn turns on her and screams, “Thanks for nothing!” Uh...how is it Mary Anne’s fault that you come off like an obnoxious phony?
They refuse to walk to the BSC meeting together the next day, and then hijack the meeting into a bitchfest about each other. Dawn says that Mary Anne told stories about her to made her sound stupid; Mary Anne counters that Dawn was making herself sound stupid and she was trying to do damage control. Dawn says that Mary Anne kept pinching her; Mary Anne counters that Dawn completely wrecked the hair and outfit Mary Anne gave her. Dawn blames Mary Anne for picking a sad movie that made her eye makeup run; Mary Anne points out that Dawn was the one wearing too much makeup to begin with. I’m giving the advantage to Mary Anne. She may have been giving Dawn annoying advice, but Dawn didn’t have to follow it. In fact; she wasn’t even actually following the advice Mary Anne gave her. She just fucked it all up and blamed it on Mary Anne, because she’s a passive-aggressive bitch like that.
K-Ron puts her foot down two pages too late and steers the conversation over to actual BSC business; specifically, Norman Hill. Because 13-year-olds would much rather discuss the weight problems of a child they barely know than delicious date gossip. Even after the meeting, everyone keeps calling their house to continue to discuss him, because they have nothing better to do. They come up with “clever” ideas to help Norman, to whit: Kristy the steamroller thinks they should butt in with the parents, Dawn the individual thinks everyone should leave him alone, Jessi the dancer thinks he should take up dance, Mallory the writer thinks he should write a story about a fat kid. I’m shocked that Mary Anne didn’t suggest crying out all the fat and Stacey didn’t suggest becoming diabetic so he couldn’t eat candy anymore. Is there ANYTHING these girls can’t relate to their single personality trait?
After the calls, Dawn miraculously realizes that she’s just like Norman. They both need people to stop interfering and making things worse! If she could have conducted the date her own way, she thinks, things would have turned out a lot better. Uh, except, Dawn is the one who originally came up with the idea to change herself to “become more attractive to boys,” Dawn is the one who sent Lewis stupid faux-provocative letters, Dawn is the one who trashed up all her clothes and wore too much makeup, Dawn is the one who made herself sound dumb because boys don’t like smart girls, and Dawn is the one who refused Mary Anne’s attempts to get Dawn to tell Lewis about herself. Pretty much the only thing that was directly Mary Anne’s fault was the popcorn, and spilling popcorn is not a date-ruiner. Shut up, Dawn. You had a shitty date because you were fake and obnoxious, and you did that DESPITE Mary Anne’s protests.
Mary Anne sits for the Hills next, and I skim, because I really hate this subplot. It makes me uncomfortable for some reason. Probably because even when parents in Stoneybrook are clueless about their children, they normally aren’t outright abusive, and I think this actually qualifies as mental abuse. They encourage Sarah to be a heinous bitch to him by calling him a gluttonous pig, because that will encourage him to lose weight. Someone finally does something productive for Norman when Mary Anne tells him to tell Sarah to fuck off, and he does, thus becoming self-actualized. Mary Anne has a revelation of her own then, because if Dawn is Norman, that means Mary Anne is Sarah! That’s…really not an accurate comparison at all.
Dawn attempts to see Lewis alone while Mary Anne is off babysitting so that she can show Lewis the True Dawn without Mary Anne’s interference. The True Dawn, by the way, is wearing a sweat skirt, tie-dyed tights, an off-the-shoulder top, those feather earrings, and a bunch of braids that are halfway undone and frizzed out. Yeah, she’s looking GREAT without Mary Anne’s help. She finally manages to call Lewis and ask him to meet her, and he skeptically says okay. They meet at the coffee shop and she follows the magazine advice some more by telling him he looks nice and only ordering a soda. Lewis is still skeptical. I don’t get it. I mean, acting a certain way because of a magazine article is stupid, but what if she really only wanted a soda? What if he DID look nice? Are these things date-ruiners?
Dawn catches sight of her reflection in the window and realizes what an asshole she looks like, and finally tells Lewis what a fake she is. He is charmed by this - as boys are, when girls tell them that they’ve been lying to them - and tells her that he thought she was beautiful and wonderful before she turned disinterested mallrat. She tells him to meet her at her house in an hour, so she can go home, shower, and turn into herself again. I’m kind of glad, even though I hate Dawn’s regular self, because the thought of her outfits was giving me an eye twitch. Oh, damn, never mind. She puts together a bunch of nasty sounding health food too, because no BSCer would be complete if they didn’t fulfill every item in the standard chapter 2 description of themselves. You can be yourself and still retain SOME aura of mystery, Dawn. Because even if Lewis DOES think she’s pretty and interesting, I don’t know any teenage boy that likes to be lectured about his eating habits.
They have a good time together, of course, and Dawn and Mary Anne apologize to each other, and it’s dead boring. “I was wrong! I love you the way you are! It’s terrible you wasted so much of Lewis’s visit looking like a skank! Obligatory comparison to Norman Hill!” They go on another double date, this time to go bowling, and Mary Anne is the only one who’s a decent bowler. Hey, continuity! She’s a good bowler in Stacey and the Cheerleaders too! I am shocked! Afterwards, they split up for a little while so Lewis can have time to grope Dawn and fumble with her bra straps in privacy. Dawn intended for Lewis to be a trial run at a real boyfriend, but now that she’s been seduced by his clumsy advances, she never wants to be seduced by anyone else’s clumsy advances ever again. Oh, I miss that about middle school. “We held hands for 47 seconds during assembly! We are going to get MARRIED!”
They write each other embarrassing letters about how they’re going to manage being so far apart, and in the denouement at the Hills, Sarah sticks up for Norman’s fat, Norman’s parents have laid off the abuse, and Norman is taking Stacey’s advice about becoming diabetic. Well, he’s going to PRETEND to be diabetic so he can’t eat junk anymore. That seems slightly twisted to me, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. Oh, well. As Dawn reminds us, we are all unique and special snowflakes. Unless you’re fat.
I started this forever ago, before some real-life stuff came up, and it's since been snarked, so I hope no one minds. I've also started a couple others that have since been done - quick informal poll, does anyone mind seeing the same book snarked twice? I like seeing an especially awful book torn six ways from Wednesday, but if anyone wants to request a book that hasn't been done yet, hit me up.
Hey, did you know Dawn likes health food and Mary Anne doesn’t? God, why didn’t they ever MENTION that before? We’re introduced us to this totally new and original concept as they discuss what snacks to serve at their New Year’s party: Mary Anne vetos tofu apple nut loaf and soybean pie, while Dawn maturely pretends to barf at the thought of hot dogs and mini pizzas. I grind my teeth as she smugs that they can both make their own snacks, “then we’ll see whose gets eaten first.” I don’t know what’s more obnoxious, that she’s delusional enough to believe that people at a party will actually eat her soybean pastry over, say, Tigger’s cat food, or their own limbs; or that she’s sanctimonious enough to try to force them to. Hey, Dawn, remember how Claudia the Human Ho-Ho always keeps around a bag of wood chips for you to gnaw because she’s a polite person who doesn’t try to force her food beliefs on you even though she’s so fanatical about her own that she draws Little Debbie porn? How about you give that a try sometime? Okay, good. Now come a little closer so I can kick you in the throat.
Little girl pigtails, secret passages, parents’ old yearbooks. Honestly, they could probably slip some erotica in there and I wouldn’t notice, because I black out whenever I see a line like, “Maybe I better start at the beginning. First let me introduce myself.” I have a degree in writing, inexplicably, and the single worst habit my professors had to beat out of me was the belief that every story had to start with the main character spending several pages describing himself in excruciating detail; also known as the “show, don’t tell” principle. Thanks, BSC! You’re the reason I drink.
Dawn veers away from the exposition for a moment to let us know that she’s nervous about meeting Logan’s cousin Lewis for the first time, but I don’t know what she has to be nervous about, because “other girls are always saying that I should be a model or an actress. They say, ‘Oh, I wish I had your silky hair.’ Or, ‘I’d die to have your skin.’...Personally, though, I can’t see it.” ...Oh, wait, you mean guys don’t LIKE it when you transparently fish for compliments? (“I get told all the time that I’m beautiful, with my sparkling blue eyes, my cornsilk hair, my flawless creamy skin - but they’re just lying. Right? RIGHT?”) And just to make this display even more obnoxious, she has to add, “THEY might have good hair and skin if they didn’t eat so much junk food.” Way to perpetuate the completely false belief that what you eat affects your hair and skin, way to make assumptions about the eating habits of people you don’t even know, and way to be a smug, superior, off-putting bitch. My wildest, most desperate dream is for Lewis’s response to be, “But Dawn, you ARE beautiful!...Your personality really sucks, though.”
Oh, and she also insists that even though she’s completely insecure about meeting Lewis, she’s not ACTUALLY insecure, because people are always saying what an individual she is. Because the very definition of a secure individual is basing your assessment of yourself on what other people say. You know what’s even more abysmal writing than having your main character tell you all about herself? Having your main character tell you all about herself and then having everything she says contradicted by her actions. It’s as though the writers hate the laid-back vegetarian California girl stereotype and want to expose it for the hypocritical pile of shit that it is. Now THAT would be some fantastic writing.
Dawn’s exercise in self-absorption is rudely interrupted when Mary Anne suddenly remembers their BSC meeting and they have to rush out the door, stopping only to get coupons from Sharon to do the party shopping. Sharon can’t find them, of course, because she used them to roll a fattie, and swears that this will be the year she finally kicks that drug habit. “That made me think,” Dawn says. “What kind of New Year’s resolution did I need to make?” Oh, god, pick me! PICK ME! I KNOW THE ANSWER!
Chapter 2: The Exposition Strikes Back! Kristy stink-eyes them for showing up at 5:31. Shut up, Kristy. I’m a pretty big stickler for punctuality, but jesus. People’s watches usually vary by a minute or two. Or they would, if K. Ron didn’t make them synchronize to the official club timepiece. I skim, as always, until I get to Claudia’s description, which is always kind of insulting, and I’m not disappointed: “When Claudia grows up I’m sure she’ll be either an artist or a fashion designer. Which is lucky for her. I don’t think she’d do too well at a profession that required a lot of regular school.” ...OUCH.
The Hills call for the first time, having been referred by the Johanssens, and Claudia takes down their information and says she’ll call back after they see who’s available. Kristy immediately bristles and wants to know if they asked for someone in particular because that’s not how the club works. Okay, a) Claudia just said they’d see who’s available, not “see if Mary Anne’s available” or something, and b) how would they even know who to ask for, since they’re brand-new clients? I love the way K. Ron freaks the hell out about her precious rules even when no one’s breaking them. She’s going to make some self-loathing submissive very happy someday. Also, the Hills’ daughter is named Sarah in this book, even though she’s named Sara every in other book. I think we need an “edited by Sammie” tag in this community. Dawn not-so-subtles with the foreshadowing as she takes the job: “A nine-year-old and a seven-year-old. Usually those are pretty easy ages to sit for. That’s what I thought, anyway, before I met Sarah and Norman Hill.” Dun dun dun.
It’s time for the dibbly fresh New Year’s party! Kristy shows up with some champagne and caviar for Sharon and Richard, and holy possession by a minor, Batman. Charlie was driving around with that? It would warm the black and shriveled cockles of my heart to see Kristy get picked up for alcohol possession while she was on the way to the front door. They actually have a realistic - by which I mean boring - conversation about cute boys instead of an in-depth brainstorm about how to solve Jamie Newton’s irritable bowel syndrome or something. I skim right past it, though, because I hated being thirteen. They squealingly call their crushes, but Dawn’s too scared to call Lewis and makes a New Year’s resolution to become more attractive to boys. She doesn’t know what that entails, exactly, “but whatever it was I was determined to do it.” Is that the sound of Dawn being buried under the crushing weight of her own ugly hypocrisy I hear? It sounds like the tinkling of bells.
Dawn arrives at the Hill’s for her sitting job and when Sarah answers the door, Dawn proceeds to creepily describe the way Sarah’s hair “fell softly to the bottom of her long neck.” You know she’s just thinking up these sensual adjectives to file away for later, when she wants to describe herself in Lewis’s ear. She comes in, noting the split level house’s “modern,” “unusual” layout - enter on a landing, stairs leading up on one side, stairs leading down on the other. The house I grew up in had exactly this layout, and so did every other house in the neighborhood. It was the local joke in the late 80’s that the contractor only knew one design and used it 300 times. In other words: shut up, Suzanne Weyn, and quit overdescribing every tiny detail to cover up for the fact that nothing happens in this book. Annoyingly, it’s not going to stop just yet, because we have to know that Norman is fat. Not stout, not husky, not stocky, not pudgy: FAT. I don’t know how Dawn was even capable of laying eyes on him without immediately launching into a tirade about how if everyone would just eat bean sprouts like her, they too could have her perfect figure. Shut up, Dawn. I know you didn’t say anything. Just shut up.
Norman says he’s going to go do his homework and disappears to his room, but Sarah knowingly says that he’s not doing homework. “Come on, I’ll show you,” she says, and Dawn tries to stop this slow-moving trainwreck by saying that maybe Norman wants a little private time. “‘Oh, no,’ Sarah replied firmly. ‘I know what he’s doing. And he’s not allowed. My mother told me to make sure he doesn’t.’ Without knocking, Sarah pushed her way into Norman’s room.” Jesus, Mrs. Hill. Masturbation is a totally healthy expression of - oh, he’s just sneaking junk food. Well, that was a setup of hilariously awkward potential wasted.
Dawn distracts Sarah by setting her up with The Little Mermaid, and for the rest of the job, Norman keeps binging on candy, Sarah’s friend Elizabeth comes over, and they’re both horrible to Norman about his weight. I skimmed past this part because I was a chunky kid and it makes me seriously uncomfortable, but the standout annoyance to this subplot is that NORMAN IS EXACTLY LIKE CLAUDIA. Like…Claudia squirrels away tons of candy and hides in her room to eat it because her parents don’t allow it, but it’s okay because she’s quirky. Norman squirrels away tons of candy and hides in his room to eat it because his parents don’t allow it, and he’s treated like a goddamn deviant. I’ve complained about the “Claudia never ever gains an ounce” phenomenon before, but the reason it gets me isn’t that she has a fast metabolism - some lucky people do - but because her never gaining an ounce means that she gets away with behavior that fat people are lambasted for. Newsflash: Unhealthy eating is unhealthy. Doesn’t fucking matter if you’re fat.
When Dawn gets home, Mary Anne lets her know that Lewis is officially coming to visit on January 13th, and wait, he’s supposed to be on a break from school? What middle school has a Christmas break in the middle of January? But Dawn has no time to figure out why Louisville public schools are so lax about scheduling, because that’s only a week away, and she can’t possibly become attractive in just a week. Well, at least she can admit it. Also, hilariously, she decides that Lewis will be her trial run at being a slut, and if she can impress him, then she’ll be safe to get a real boyfriend. Everything about this thought process is so fucked up.
She holes up with some fashion mags and discovers that her baggy clothes and lack of makeup aren’t hot at all. I’d say her smug, judgmental demeanor are really her most unattractive qualities, but apparently the bitch look was actually very big in 1992, because all the models look angry. Mary Anne catches her at it and is like, “Hey, I know a look that would be great on you! I didn’t say anything because I figured you weren’t interested. But as long as you’re looking for a makeover...” Dawn, who doesn’t care what people think of her AT ALL, remember, takes this to mean that Mary Anne thinks that Dawn is fugly and wants to change everything about her. Good thing she’s not INSECURE or anything.
The model Mary Anne has picked out to represent Dawn has big permed hair and is wearing “a light blue unitard that reached just below her calves. Over the unitard was a very short (the caption said ‘bolero-style’) faded blue denim jacket with all sorts of clunky pins on the top pockets. Her face was made up a little more heavily than some of the other models in the magazine. She seemed to have on more eye makeup. The makeup went with her expression. It was kind of tough and serious.” I think maybe the caption should have said “Jersey mallrat-style.” Any female who graduated between 1990 and 1993 could tour the high-school circuit giving choked-up inspirational speeches about avoiding this particular poor life choice. (“The bangs...dear God, the bangs...”)
Mary Anne mall-rats over Dawn by caking her up with makeup and curling her hair, and Dawn decides she needs to take a picture for Lewis so he won’t be too surprised when he sees her. If a guy needs to be forewarned about your appearance to avoid giving him a heart attack, it might not be the best look for you. Just a thought. While Mary Anne goes to find a camera, Dawn decides her clothes don’t look busted enough and starts scissoring up a shirt to make herself an off-the-shoulder top. Oh, jesus christ. AN OFF-THE-SHOULDER TOP. (Also - and I know I’ll get a million comments from people who know how to modify clothing and not make it look like shit, but I don’t believe Dawn is one of those people - I really can’t imagine anything trashier looking than a shirt you obviously just hacked up with a pair of kitchen scissors. I hope Sharon grounds her for ruining perfectly good clothes.) Just to complete the look, instead of smiling for the camera, Dawn puffs out her lower lip and glares, because she believes this makes her look “mysterious and alluring,” instead of the correct answer, which is “like a jackass.” I’d say Dawn is about ready for her own MySpace.
Chapter 6, or: I Loathe This Chapter and Everything It Stands For. It’s Claudia’s turn to sit for the Hills, and she actually likes Sarah, who is a little snotwipe, because she understands what it’s like to have a sibling who’s “odd.” Oh my christ - first of all, smart is not odd, CLAUDIA. I know that intelligence is scary and foreign to you, but learn to handle it, because the smart people will be taking care of you a few years from now, what with all the turpentine you’ve obviously been inhaling. Second of all, binge eating is not “odd.” Just because you’re a judgmental shit who doesn’t have the same motivations and problems as your sibling does not give you the right to fucking harass them.
Poor Norman is being bullied some more, and I cringe into a pillow until it’s over and he’s back in the kitchen, snorfing down cookies. Claudia catches him at it and tries to get him to stop, in a fit of irony so deep that I can taste blood. Where in God’s name does Claudia Fucking Kishi get off telling anyone to lay off the snacks? He points out that it’s his parents’ diet, not his, since they’re the ones who want him to be on it, and that eating makes him happy. Claudia tells him he’d be happier if he lost weight so kids didn’t tease him. No, he’d be happier if kids weren’t little shitstains. He should work on healthier habits, yes, but he should not have to lose weight to make people like him. Why would you want to bend over backwards to impress people who make your life hell? Why should he cater to that level of bullshit? I know the Lesson of the Week is supposed to be “The Dangers of Binge Eating,” but I really think that telling kids they have to reshape themselves to make people like them is sick.
We’re back to Dawn now, and she wants us to know that “time was running out. Less than a week remained before Lewis arrived.” Well, seeing as how she only had a week’s notice to begin with, I suppose this does now qualify as “less than a week.” She’s been practicing the New Dawn, via carrying around that horrendous picture of herself in her wallet and staring at it all day. It sounds like I’m making that up, but I’m totally not. It reminds her that the Old Dawn was so sweet (...that’s a stretch) but the New Dawn doesn’t give a shit about anyone and kicks puppies and scares nuns and is SO HARDCORE!11!!ELEVENTY! because that’s what cool kids do. When the teacher calls on her and asks for two common form of igneous rock, she knows the answer, but “cool kids didn’t sit up straight and answer all the teacher’s questions. They slouched and stared into space as if everything were a bore.” So she’s like, “Heavy metal and pop?” Oh, I see what you did there. Hilarious. The teacher actually thinks it’s pretty funny too, but when she prods again for the answer, Dawn just keeps acting like a vapid bitch and pretends she doesn’t know. I think I must have gone to a weird school, because at my high school, it was actually considered cool to be smart. People competed for the teacher’s attention, the best grades, the awards, everything. Some classes have a two-way tie for valedictorian, but my graduating class? Seventeen. We had SEVENTEEN valedictorians. (I was ranked a lousy sixth. I can’t talk about it.) That’s my long way of saying that kids at my school would have thought she was a dumbass for not being able to answer a simple science question, not revered her as the Queen of Cool. I’m also completely put out by the fact that this is actually a pop quiz she just failed. It’s one thing to get an answer wrong when the teacher just calls on you, and it’s another to purposely get your grade lowered. I hope that once Sharon’s done grounding her for ruining her clothes, she grounds her for sabotaging her grades.
Of course, because it’s cool to be stupid at SMS - Claudia is considered the height of cool, after all, so I suppose they could use “moron” as slang for “awesome” (“Your new shoes are so moron!”) - everyone is like, “That was BOSS, Dawn!” Don’t encourage her, people. “From that moment on, there was no stopping me,” Dawn says. Goddammit. SEE WHAT YOU DID?
She goes home and proceeds to butcher her entire wardrobe, and - spoiler! - I would love to know what happened when she went back to normal and all her clothes still looked like the rejects from a Whitesnake music video. Sharon must have kicked her ass into next week. Mary Anne is like, “Wow, that looks cute. You’re really going all out,” and Dawn actually gets pissed that Mary Anne isn’t trying to stop her, because what was wrong with her before? Besides the obvious, I mean. Do you guys get the sense Dawn might be a little bipolar?
Of course, not everyone thinks she looks cute - Kristy straight up tells her she looks like a dink, Stacey tells her that her eye makeup makes her look like a whore, and Claudia, continuing to accuse the pot of being Jessi, tells her that the whole look is totally f’ed up. I can’t decide what’s more hilarious: that Claudia actually told her she looked like hell, or that Dawn thinks Claudia is discouraging her just because she’s jealous and doesn’t want anyone to look cooler than she does. Oh, no, wait, it’s most hilarious that nothing anyone says, positive or negative, can make Dawn happy. Her life is going to be such a series of disappointments.
Continuing on her campaign of being bad, oh so bad, she’s slumped around at the BSC meeting chewing her very first piece of gum. Because bad kids chew sugarless gum at meetings of their babysitting club instead of smoking Camels behind the football bleachers. Kristy’s trying to organize a pizza party for Monday afternoon with the members and all their sitting charges, and wait - every one of them has a job at the same time? On a MEETING DAY? There are all kinds of problems with kids who can’t eat pizza and fussy babies and kids who won’t behave in public, so basically nothing about this plan is a good idea, but that has never stopped K. Ron before. Dawn doesn’t give a shit, though - because bad kids don’t give a shit - and is more interested in learning to blow bubbles. She starts cracking her gum annoyingly, and she’s pretty much a bad bleach job away from living in a trailer park at this point. Kristy asks her to cool it, and Dawn flounces and says she’ll never blow another bubble as long as she lives. God, I hate overdramatic reactions like that (“Could you turn down the radio?” “Fine, I’ll just THROW THE RADIO OUT THE WINDOW, will that make you happy? MUSIC IS DEAD TO ME NOW”). Shut up, Dawn.
Nobody really likes the new Dawn except Mary Anne, and she gets super defensive when Claudia says she liked the old Dawn better, even though she got pissed at Mary Anne for not saying exactly that. She actually says, “I was mad at all of them except Mary Anne. I was only annoyed and confused by Mary Anne.” Why the hell are any of them friends with her at all? They can’t do anything to please her anyway. Mary Anne tries to comfort her by saying they’ll come around, but she goes home in a huff and sends Lewis a semi-pornographic postcard saying she can’t wait to hear his hunky voice whisper in her ear. If it doesn’t crack and burst her eardrum, maybe.
Chapter 8! “There’s one thing about New York City I can’t get used to. It’s how bright it is at night.” I thought it was the part where you get mugged and left for dead in an alley? They’re on their way to La Guardia to pick up Lewis because he couldn’t get a flight into a local airport, and...uh, isn’t that a good couple of hours from Stoneybrook? I flew out of La Guardia while I was in New York and it took us an hour to get there just from our hotel. Seriously, he couldn’t have waited another day and saved the Brunos several hours? It would have given Dawn an extra day to start smoking and lose her virginity, too. As it was, her week was just too busy and she only got to third base.
I can’t imagine how uncomfortable it is for her to sit in the car for so long in the outfit she’s rocking, which she picked out at Zingy’s all by herself, and which consists of: “black ballet slippers; black lace capri leggings; a short metallic silver skirt with all this crinoliny stuff underneath that made it poof out; a stretchy, tight black-and-white striped top with long sleeves...six bangle bracelets, and a new pair of feather earrings that reached down to my shoulder.” Holy shit. She’s dressed like Madonna parodying herself.
When they meet Lewis the Dreamy at the airport, Dawn says it was love at first sight, even though Lewis doesn’t even smile at her. Much to Dawn’s chagrin, Mary Anne asks Lewis if Dawn looks like he pictured, and he’s like, “Yeah, no.” Dawn has a feeling she isn’t doing too well and doesn’t say much on the way home. HA. HA. HA. After they drop off Lewis, Mary Anne explodes at Dawn for not showing him any personality. Why does she even care? Dawn’s whiny, immature response is, “He hates me! All boys hate me! Everyone hates me! Wahhh!” Oh, Dawn. Not EVERYONE hates - well, yeah, pretty much everyone hates you.
Awesomely, Mary Anne hands her a magazine article called “You-Directed Conversation,” which says that Dawn should ask Lewis lots of questions about himself to seem interesting. Dawn asks if she does that with Logan, and Mary Anne says, “No...But Logan likes me the way I am.” OH MY GOD I just laughed so hard I was SCREAMING and my neighbor banged on the wall. Oh, shit. Woo. I’ve said it before, but Mary Anne’s burns are the fucking BEST.
Dawn wants to know if pretending to be interested in Lewis isn’t “sort of phony.” Um, more phony than dressing like a backup singer for Wham? Besides, if you aren’t really interested to know anything about him, maybe you don’t really want to be with him anyway? I’m just saying, asking someone you’re interested in about themselves really isn’t that phony. It’s called “getting to know each other.” Mary Anne just thinks that Dawn needs to do SOMETHING to get Lewis to like her, because her normal self is really not doing the job.
While Dawn fumes about the fact that the New Dawn is equally unattractive as the Old Dawn, Mary Anne arranges a double date with Logan, and when Dawn wants to know if Lewis actually wants to go on this date, Mary Anne says, “He didn’t say no.” Because he was too busy screaming and trying to book the next flight home, probably.
Stacey’s the next poor soul to sit for Norman and Sarah, and the Hills pounce on her the minute she walks in the door - Norman isn’t allowed to eat candy, Norman isn’t allowed to eat cookies, Norman isn’t allowed to eat, period, except for low-fat water, here’s Norman’s Richard Simmons video, we’ll be at the health club with all the other thin glamorous people who would shun us if they knew we had a fat child. Norman, predictably, sneaks food while his heinous sister has a picnic with her heinous friend, and claims it’s because he feels sad. When Stacey asks why he’s sad, he tells her all about how his parents say horrible shit about him. Like “I can’t believe he’s our son.” And “How come a smart kid like you can’t lose some weight?” Holy damn. Between the Arnolds and the Hills, a child therapist could make a KILLING in Stoneybrook. I hate this whole subplot.
Dawn’s been cramming for her big date by reading magazines to glean helpful advice like, “On a first date, don’t eat something that’ll give you the runs.” Wish I’d read that article, s’all I’m saying. She’s going to wear one of her janky self-styled skirts, but Mary Anne tells her she needs to wear something special - Mary Anne herself is wearing a “nice flowered dress,” a french braid, and makeup, but Dawn tells us that this does not look special and points out that Mary Anne is dressed casually. Uh, okay. What constitutes “dressed up,” then? Mary Anne breaks the First Rule of Effective Bitchery by reusing an insult, but it’s still delicious when she reiterates that Logan already likes her the way she is. Dawn says she doesn’t have anything else special to wear, and Mary Anne says she’ll lend her something. Dawn snots about the fact that Mary Anne, she of the little girl jumpers, is telling her how to dress. Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with you looking like you just stumbled off the Jerry Springer set, Dawn.
Case in point: Dawn thinks the denim skirt and black turtleneck Mary Anne lends her is too plain, and as soon as Mary Anne leaves the room, she smears on some hot pink lipstick, teases her hair, and hikes up the skirt a few inches. SKANK-AY! Awesomely, Mary Anne tells her she looks like hell but that its too late to do anything about it. HA.
When Logan and Lewis show up like a pair of manly studs, Dawn’s tries to follow the “You-Directed Conversation” tips, but she mixes up “asking Lewis about himself” with “saying Lewis’s name a lot and giving him bizarre compliments” and ends up sounding like an idiot. They go see Gone with the Wind, and does Stoneybrook have any theaters that actually show new movies? Also, Gone with the Wind is like four hours long; how the hell did they see the whole thing, go out to dinner after, and make the 10:30 curfew they mentioned? Also, why is the entire theater filled with nothing but small, unsupervised children at a torturously long, violent Civil War epic? Why do I even question these things anymore?
For some reason, Mary Anne decides to pinch Dawn with every word that comes out of her mouth. Oooh, is this like some sort of electroshock experiment to make her stop talking? That’d be okay. Oh, bollocks, Mary Anne’s just trying to make Dawn get popcorn so she and Lewis can romantically share it. I don’t know how sharing popcorn became some sort of cliché for budding romance, but personally, I don’t feel that letting your buttery hands brush against each other in the popcorn tub ranks particularly high on the sexual tension meter. Luckily, Lewis doesn’t think so either, because his idea of sharing popcorn means passing the bucket back and forth between them, leaving no chance for greasy hand lingering. I’m shocked that Dawn doesn’t go for the “Oh, is that your crotch I just grabbed? I was reaching for the popcorn” defense.
She does go for the next best thing, which is balancing the tub on the arm of the seat, waiting for Lewis to reach in, and then shooting her own hand in there to grab him like a tentacley, slippery predator. Unfortunately, she overshoots and knocks the popcorn everywhere. Smooth. Her other attempts at flirting are met similarly poorly; Lewis is transfixed at the screen and doesn’t notice when she leans against him, then she starts crying at a death scene and her two pounds of whorish eye makeup run all over the place.
After the movie, Mary Anne makes a last-ditch effort to spawn true love and tells Lewis what an individual Dawn is, but Lewis isn’t having any of it. The minute he leaves, Dawn turns on her and screams, “Thanks for nothing!” Uh...how is it Mary Anne’s fault that you come off like an obnoxious phony?
They refuse to walk to the BSC meeting together the next day, and then hijack the meeting into a bitchfest about each other. Dawn says that Mary Anne told stories about her to made her sound stupid; Mary Anne counters that Dawn was making herself sound stupid and she was trying to do damage control. Dawn says that Mary Anne kept pinching her; Mary Anne counters that Dawn completely wrecked the hair and outfit Mary Anne gave her. Dawn blames Mary Anne for picking a sad movie that made her eye makeup run; Mary Anne points out that Dawn was the one wearing too much makeup to begin with. I’m giving the advantage to Mary Anne. She may have been giving Dawn annoying advice, but Dawn didn’t have to follow it. In fact; she wasn’t even actually following the advice Mary Anne gave her. She just fucked it all up and blamed it on Mary Anne, because she’s a passive-aggressive bitch like that.
K-Ron puts her foot down two pages too late and steers the conversation over to actual BSC business; specifically, Norman Hill. Because 13-year-olds would much rather discuss the weight problems of a child they barely know than delicious date gossip. Even after the meeting, everyone keeps calling their house to continue to discuss him, because they have nothing better to do. They come up with “clever” ideas to help Norman, to whit: Kristy the steamroller thinks they should butt in with the parents, Dawn the individual thinks everyone should leave him alone, Jessi the dancer thinks he should take up dance, Mallory the writer thinks he should write a story about a fat kid. I’m shocked that Mary Anne didn’t suggest crying out all the fat and Stacey didn’t suggest becoming diabetic so he couldn’t eat candy anymore. Is there ANYTHING these girls can’t relate to their single personality trait?
After the calls, Dawn miraculously realizes that she’s just like Norman. They both need people to stop interfering and making things worse! If she could have conducted the date her own way, she thinks, things would have turned out a lot better. Uh, except, Dawn is the one who originally came up with the idea to change herself to “become more attractive to boys,” Dawn is the one who sent Lewis stupid faux-provocative letters, Dawn is the one who trashed up all her clothes and wore too much makeup, Dawn is the one who made herself sound dumb because boys don’t like smart girls, and Dawn is the one who refused Mary Anne’s attempts to get Dawn to tell Lewis about herself. Pretty much the only thing that was directly Mary Anne’s fault was the popcorn, and spilling popcorn is not a date-ruiner. Shut up, Dawn. You had a shitty date because you were fake and obnoxious, and you did that DESPITE Mary Anne’s protests.
Mary Anne sits for the Hills next, and I skim, because I really hate this subplot. It makes me uncomfortable for some reason. Probably because even when parents in Stoneybrook are clueless about their children, they normally aren’t outright abusive, and I think this actually qualifies as mental abuse. They encourage Sarah to be a heinous bitch to him by calling him a gluttonous pig, because that will encourage him to lose weight. Someone finally does something productive for Norman when Mary Anne tells him to tell Sarah to fuck off, and he does, thus becoming self-actualized. Mary Anne has a revelation of her own then, because if Dawn is Norman, that means Mary Anne is Sarah! That’s…really not an accurate comparison at all.
Dawn attempts to see Lewis alone while Mary Anne is off babysitting so that she can show Lewis the True Dawn without Mary Anne’s interference. The True Dawn, by the way, is wearing a sweat skirt, tie-dyed tights, an off-the-shoulder top, those feather earrings, and a bunch of braids that are halfway undone and frizzed out. Yeah, she’s looking GREAT without Mary Anne’s help. She finally manages to call Lewis and ask him to meet her, and he skeptically says okay. They meet at the coffee shop and she follows the magazine advice some more by telling him he looks nice and only ordering a soda. Lewis is still skeptical. I don’t get it. I mean, acting a certain way because of a magazine article is stupid, but what if she really only wanted a soda? What if he DID look nice? Are these things date-ruiners?
Dawn catches sight of her reflection in the window and realizes what an asshole she looks like, and finally tells Lewis what a fake she is. He is charmed by this - as boys are, when girls tell them that they’ve been lying to them - and tells her that he thought she was beautiful and wonderful before she turned disinterested mallrat. She tells him to meet her at her house in an hour, so she can go home, shower, and turn into herself again. I’m kind of glad, even though I hate Dawn’s regular self, because the thought of her outfits was giving me an eye twitch. Oh, damn, never mind. She puts together a bunch of nasty sounding health food too, because no BSCer would be complete if they didn’t fulfill every item in the standard chapter 2 description of themselves. You can be yourself and still retain SOME aura of mystery, Dawn. Because even if Lewis DOES think she’s pretty and interesting, I don’t know any teenage boy that likes to be lectured about his eating habits.
They have a good time together, of course, and Dawn and Mary Anne apologize to each other, and it’s dead boring. “I was wrong! I love you the way you are! It’s terrible you wasted so much of Lewis’s visit looking like a skank! Obligatory comparison to Norman Hill!” They go on another double date, this time to go bowling, and Mary Anne is the only one who’s a decent bowler. Hey, continuity! She’s a good bowler in Stacey and the Cheerleaders too! I am shocked! Afterwards, they split up for a little while so Lewis can have time to grope Dawn and fumble with her bra straps in privacy. Dawn intended for Lewis to be a trial run at a real boyfriend, but now that she’s been seduced by his clumsy advances, she never wants to be seduced by anyone else’s clumsy advances ever again. Oh, I miss that about middle school. “We held hands for 47 seconds during assembly! We are going to get MARRIED!”
They write each other embarrassing letters about how they’re going to manage being so far apart, and in the denouement at the Hills, Sarah sticks up for Norman’s fat, Norman’s parents have laid off the abuse, and Norman is taking Stacey’s advice about becoming diabetic. Well, he’s going to PRETEND to be diabetic so he can’t eat junk anymore. That seems slightly twisted to me, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. Oh, well. As Dawn reminds us, we are all unique and special snowflakes. Unless you’re fat.