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#43 – Hard Choices

* Photo credit to The Closet *

Ugh @ this cover. All the colors are making me ill. What’s interesting is that books are right: Enid’s pretty “in her own way.” I can’t explain how though. She’s like a magic eye poster, where it’s weird looking at first glance but if you look closely, you start to see something worthwhile. And then you lose it again. That’s Enid!

I hooted at the back caption: “No life of her own…” In the words of Rayanne Graff, duh squared. That’s what happens when you spend your days up E. Wakefield’s a-hole.

Enid’s thrilled that her grandmother is coming to live with her and her single mom since her grandfather bit the dust. Even though she has to give up her room and live in the attic, it’ll be worth it! Until Grandma actually gets there and is no longer the spritely little old lady Enid once knew. It turns out that Grandma’s old. And helpless. And kind of a bitch. Even Liz thinks so, so of course it must be right. Grandma insists that she doesn’t want to be a burden, but of course that’s during the times when she’s being the biggest pain in the ass of all. She hates on Mrs. Rollins’s boyfriend Richard, throws tantrums when she has to be left alone, and thinks Enid’s wimpy friends are a bunch of drug-addicted hooligans because they woke her up from a nap. Enid’s already tragical social life is further reduced to tatters because Grandma wants her to hang out with her and listen to her whine, leaving Enid no time to be with her beloved Hugh Grayson, whom she’s already having problems with.

Things get really tense when Grandma convinces Mrs. Rollins that it’s not a good idea for Enid to go dry hump Hugh in a sleeping bag on some co-ed camping trip and makes Enid take her to go get aspirin and hairspray. And when Enid is stuck staying home with Grandma instead of going to Elizabeth’s little party and Hugh practically dumps her on the porch, Enid flips the fuck out, telling Granny that she hates her and that life sucks now because of her. Then she runs away crying, and when she returns, Grandma’s back to her old sweet cookie-baking self again and admits that Enid’s right. Teenagers are always right in Sweet Valley. Then Grandma moves back home and Enid and Hugh make up and everyone’s lives improve. What a freaking waste of a story! I have my life to live, Francine!

Half of the book is devoted to Liz and her making a documentary on goddamn Sweet Valley. I’m so repulsed that everything “creative” that Liz does is devoted to her obnoxious hometown. “I was just feeling sentimental about living in the most wonderful town in the whole world, that’s all,” she says. Pardon me, I just threw up a bit. She gets her slave Jeffrey French to film it and Jessica is the on-screen narrator and they run around town, interviewing the mayor and what not for the opus titled “This is Sweet Valley,” during which Winston Egbert walks around with a fake arrow in his head. Egbert aside, these people sicken me.

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