Before we get into this thing, I just wanted to tell you a little about the live podcast from The Blaze With Lizzie and Kat! that I attended here in L.A., which dealt with this very episode. Emily Valentine Herself, Christine Elise McCarthy, was the guest and she was adorable and charming and lovely and still has amazing upper arms, by the way, which inspired me to go directly home afterwards and bust out several circuits of chair dips, and by "inspired me to go directly home afterwards and bust out several circuits of chair dips," I mean, "inspired me to go get drunk off margaritas and power-eat a bunch of chips and salsa and enchiladas." Also present: Charles Fucking Rosin! Writer/executive producer of 90210! Yeah, I was pretty much a giant blushing fangirl goober the entire time. And also a little like a Maury audience member, in that I was audibly saying things, like "Mmhm!" and "HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!" and "YOU GO GIRL!" (okay, maybe not that last one) and clapping like a chimp and just generally being A Total Embarrassment. So basically, like Dancing David without the windmilling arms or color-blocked, poly-blend abortion of an outfit swathing my person.
AAAAAAANYWAY, Lizzie and Kat were amazing - total pros who put together an engaging and funny evening for everyone in attendance. They are Boss Ladies and I truly admire what they're doing. Here's the link to this live podcast - you should also back through the archives, because if you're not tuning in, you're truly missing out on all the fun.
Benjamin was in town that weekend and joined in the festivities (along with my boyfriend) and oh, he came to play:
And meet Christine Elise LOOK AT HER ARMS:
And he actually won the door prize! And has A Moment in the podcast where he says things and unfortunately announces to the world that he most relates to David Silver. Yeah, we're not friends anymore.
I also purchased Christine's novel, Bathing & the Single Girl, after the show. I'm planning on doing a giveaway of the extra copy I picked up, sometime between now and the next blog post (so like, in another year or so), so stay tuned. I've just started to read it myself and am already completely in love with her writing style. I'm sure whoever wins whatever ludicrous contest I think up ("Like this post on Instagram and then tag 15 of your closest friends and share with at least 7 of your mortal enemies and then eat a bunch of Raisin Bran to the point that you have the trots and then take a picture of your sloppy stool floating in the toilet bowl and whichever specimen looks most like this picture of Mary Magdalene, wins") will love it, too.
In the meantime, onwards and upwards.
Wherein Brandon overdoses on vast quantities of the U4EA Emily slips into his drink. And none of us ever have to deal Smug Smugly ever, ever, ever again and we're all happy and impromptu parades break out across the globe and world peace is declared and we all hold hands and sing it like a goddamn early-'70s Coke commercial. A girl can dream, no?
Front of West Bev; kicky music plays in the background and we see that that hot bitch JACKIE! will be making an appearance this episode, which is comforting, given everything else we're in for.
...which turns out to be Emily's hand, opening her locker with a flourish and declaring "Ta-dah!" to Brandon. She's offering up a shelf to him, seeing as he's apparently always being a little pansy and complaining about not having enough room in his locker. She tells him, "I kinda like the idea of your books in my locker," which loosely translates to, "I would like your penis in my vagina." Brandon, Hard-Up Garden Gnome, concurs, stating that he would also like his penis in her vagina, ahem, books in her locker, but coyly queries, "Movin' in together - that's an awfully big step, isn't it? I mean, what would your parents think?"
Emily fills him in on the fact her parents think she's nuts anyway, because they've seen her hair (which here, resembles a bleached out bald eagle's nest that's weathered at least a half-dozen typhoons and countless squall line thunderstorms) and her taste in guys. And I'd like to break it to both these dweebs that as far as Emily being "nuts" goes: they ain't seen nothin' yet.
And then this happens and I lose my eyesight for the 55th time since starting this blog.
AAAAAAANYWAY, Lizzie and Kat were amazing - total pros who put together an engaging and funny evening for everyone in attendance. They are Boss Ladies and I truly admire what they're doing. Here's the link to this live podcast - you should also back through the archives, because if you're not tuning in, you're truly missing out on all the fun.
Benjamin was in town that weekend and joined in the festivities (along with my boyfriend) and oh, he came to play:
And meet Christine Elise LOOK AT HER ARMS:
And he actually won the door prize! And has A Moment in the podcast where he says things and unfortunately announces to the world that he most relates to David Silver. Yeah, we're not friends anymore.
I also purchased Christine's novel, Bathing & the Single Girl, after the show. I'm planning on doing a giveaway of the extra copy I picked up, sometime between now and the next blog post (so like, in another year or so), so stay tuned. I've just started to read it myself and am already completely in love with her writing style. I'm sure whoever wins whatever ludicrous contest I think up ("Like this post on Instagram and then tag 15 of your closest friends and share with at least 7 of your mortal enemies and then eat a bunch of Raisin Bran to the point that you have the trots and then take a picture of your sloppy stool floating in the toilet bowl and whichever specimen looks most like this picture of Mary Magdalene, wins") will love it, too.
In the meantime, onwards and upwards.
Wherein Brandon overdoses on vast quantities of the U4EA Emily slips into his drink. And none of us ever have to deal Smug Smugly ever, ever, ever again and we're all happy and impromptu parades break out across the globe and world peace is declared and we all hold hands and sing it like a goddamn early-'70s Coke commercial. A girl can dream, no?
Emily fills him in on the fact her parents think she's nuts anyway, because they've seen her hair (which here, resembles a bleached out bald eagle's nest that's weathered at least a half-dozen typhoons and countless squall line thunderstorms) and her taste in guys. And I'd like to break it to both these dweebs that as far as Emily being "nuts" goes: they ain't seen nothin' yet.
And then this happens and I lose my eyesight for the 55th time since starting this blog.