Oh, poor divorced-kid Stacey. It's so hard for her. She has to make a choice: does she stay with her mom, who has pneumonia? Or does she go to New York for her dad's big dinner?
So, the background: Stacey's mom is super tired, cause she's temping and looking for a job (which, I know, TOTALLY sucks). But Stacey's dad just got this big promotion to vice president of something or other at his company, so his career is going swimmingly. In fact, the promotion is such a big deal that the company is throwing him this fancy dinner thing, and he invites Stacey, and even tells her to get a new outfit for the occasion. And Stace is super-stoked, 'cause, new clothes! Big weekend in NYC! But then...(duh, duh, duuuuhhh) Stacey's mom collapses at a job interview, and Stacey gets called out of school to go to the hospital. And Stacey's freaking out, cause she thinks her mom's going to die of leukemia or some shit. Turns out it's a nasty case of pneumonia. Which sucks, but it's not like Mrs. McGill is all on her death bed or anything. So, Stacey goes all martyr-complexy and insists on taking care of her mom at all hours and setting up mom-sitters for the hours when she's at school, and she temporarily quits baby-sitting and stops going to club meetings and BORING! And she angsts about whether or not to leave her mom for the big New York weekend.
Finally, she decides to not really make a decision and try to do both...so, she leaves after school Friday and goes to the dinner, but keeps leaving during the dinner to check on her mom. And she totally asks to leave early, but they don't leave until, like, midnight, which sucks cause she just has to take the 6:30 a.m. train, meaning she gets up at fucking 4:30 in the morning. Dumbass. Which riles up her relationship with her dad, who's none too pleased. And she's so tired she can't properly take care of Mom. So, Stacey just sucks all around. Finally, Mom gets better and tells Stacey that she can't take on everyone's probs.
Subplot: All the little kiddies waste all their money ordering crap from the backs of comic books and magazines. They get scammed, and wind up with tons of junk and don't have any money left to buy the yo-yos that they really want. So, they decide to have a traveling salesman-type show to sell all the crap. So, they pull their wagons from house to house and rap, recite poems and perform skits to try to sell the shit, with very little luck, but they get money for the performances. Blah. Stupid children, and stupid parents for letting them spend all their $$$ on stupid crap scams in mags.
So, here's what I really don't get. Since when does Stacey give a shit about anyone other than herself, and maybe Charlotte Johanssen (or how ever you spell it)? Seriously. And why is she all "ohmigod, my mom's dying" or whatever, when she's spent mad time in hospitals and being sick and shit? Isn't the whole point of "The Truth About Stacey" that overreacting about medical conditions is stupid? Whatever. And why do all the parents give the kids money to send away for stupid shit? My parents didn't let me order shit from the backs of mags, CAUSE IT'S A FUCKING RIPOFF!
Okay, here come the bullets!
- "...added Mal knowledgeably, even though she has been to New York, like, three times." Shut up, Stacey. You're a bitch on the first fucking page of the book.
- Oh, so Stacey's dad has a "tiny two-bedroom apartment." He must be paying a fortune in child support and alimony. I don't care if he's paying for a house and an apartment now, they were doing okay before the divorce. And now, with the promotion, he'll be able to upgrade for his stupid little daughter.
- Apparently, Claudia is neither fat nor thin, but just right. Huh.
- "But Claud and I have the exact same taste in clothes and fashion, and very similar interests. We are both sophisticated and trendy. I know I sound like I'm bragging, but everyone says this about us. We keep track of the new styles, and we wear tights and boots [ooh, trendy!], baggy tops, and big jewelry. Claud likes hats, and often wears one, and we experiment with makeup and accessories. We experiment with our hair, too, especially Claudia."
- Okay, so I totally remember this anecdote: "'Once,' began Kristy, 'I saw this ad on TV. The announcer said you could order this great collection of fifties and sixties rock 'n' roll songs by the original artists. You know what happened? The cassette arrived, but it turned out to be a collection of the old songs performed by a new group called the Original Artists. What a rip-off!...'" Yup, I totally remember that. And it's still stupid.
- So, to get her outfit for the big night, Stacey drags the girls to Zingy's, the store with "all that punk stuff." And this is the big winner: "...a hot pink (fake) silk jacket which fell to my knees, new black leggings [come on, Stace, did you really need another pair?], pink-and-black socks, and a black body suit. I planned to wear the outfit with black flats, and to dress it up with some jewelry and maybe a coupl of barrettes in my hair." Classy. You're going to a fancy business dinner, and you're dressing like you'll be spending the afternoon at the fucking mall.
- Heh. Arnie Swarteneggy.
- Ah, Stacey's imaginging the future, and her significant other's parents are divorced as well.
- Oh, and there's this whole thing where Stacey wishes there were a Divorce Handbook or some shit like that.
- I totally want a patch that says "Old bowlers never die; they end up in the gutter."
- Stacey bitches about delays at Grand Central. Shut up, Stacey.
- Heh. No one will tell Claire what a Bust Developer is.
- "I decided I had been away from New York too long. I was losing my grip on sophistication." Say it with me now, Shut up, Stacey!
- Stacey's dad says "But I swan." And I had to look that up. Apparently, to swan is to wander aimlessly or to dally. Huh.
- Heh, Stacey reminisces about Judy. See the archives for my Judy haiku.
- ANM, I'm so sure that some little kid knows what an "old-time medicine show" is.
- And how come Stacey gets to charge shit? I was never allowed to do that, and I would never authorize a fucking 13-year-old to use my charge card.
Oh, and one more time? Shut up, Stacey.



