Remember how the first chapter of every Baby-Sitters Club book wasn’t even worth reading? Reiterating who the characters were and setting up the series and all that? Well, this clever piece re-imagines all the boring, sentimental details as envisioned by the master of disaffected youth, arcane tidbits about music and an affinity for choking, Bret Easton Ellis (not the actual Easton Ellis, unfortunately). Suddenly the Club seems a lot more angsty…and I see a pixie stick/cocaine addition becoming a crucial element of Claudia’s storyline.
…and Mary-Anne had been talking for about 10 minutes before I stopped totally zoning out, just trying to mellow really on the B-side of this new Beach Boy album. There is nothing more depressing than coming home after last bell at StoneyBrook High, trying to get my room in order for the Baby-Sitters’ Club meeting, and then realizing that you really don’t even give a shit anymore. Like, sorry that you have diabetes Stacey, but do we have to spend half the afternoon discussing it? And yeah, it really bums me out to watch Claudia just snort up half those Pixie Stixs when she is so blatantly trying to get attention to her sugar problem, but every time we try to talk to her about it she says she needs it to focus on her art and that her super-strict Asian parents are coming down on her ass again so what’s the point, really? This whole club is really getting to be a drag but whatever, I started the project and I just know that bitch Marci is waiting for me to like, drop the ball on this whole thing so she can pick up all the money and maybe Mary-Anne’s boyfriend Logan as a nice “fuck you too” perk.”
Read more at Crushable.