So, my apologies for not getting this done yesterday. I'd like to say I had a good reason. But I don't. I got off work, went home, crawled into bed and passed out. And then I got up, took a shower, ate dinner, and went to the bar.
I guess part of it is I'm just feeling overwhelmed. I set deadlines for myself that, while not impossible, aren't easy, and I'm too stubborn to admit I've probably screwed the pooch a little. I'm not ridiculously behind, maybe about 2-3 weeks, which I kind of built in to my calculations, but still. I hate being late. It's one of my pet peeves. And I hate it more so when it's at least 75% my fault.
Okay. Enough whining. On to the recap.
Monica Vespucci was wearing a button that said, "Vampires are People, too." It was not a promising beginning to the evening.
I'd say this isn't a promising beginning to the chapter. To be absolutely literal, the button isn't wrong. Vampires are people--they just happen to be dead, which may not have been clarified, but if this was a true/false question on an exam, the answer would be TRUE.
Follow this up with possibly the shortest physical description we'll see of a character and the following sentence:
The button should have tipped me off to what kind of bachelorette party she'd planned.
And I think it's safe to say Monica is not going to be on Anita's good side. Foreshadowing with a hammer is not subtle.
Then we get an entire paragraph of description on Anita. Very, very, detailed description. Six color words in one paragraph. First page, we've got eight colors. I feel like I've wandered into a Crayola commercial or something.
I was wearing black jeans, knee-high boots, and a crimson blouse. My hair was made to order for the outfit, black curling just over the shoulders of the red blouse. The solid, nearly black-brown of my eyes matches the hair. Only the skin stands out, too pale, Germanic against the Latin darkness.
I have a few problems with this. Just a few. First, there's all the lovely repetition going on here. Second, since you bought the clothes and not the hair (I'm assuming), you hair wasn't made to order, the outfit was. Third, being pale doesn't make you Germanic and having dark hair and dark eyes doesn't make you Latin. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. I'm super pale--like if you wander down the make-up aisle and look at foundations I'm the second lightest color pale--but I'm not German. Most of my ancestry is Scottish and Irish with some English thrown in for the hell of it. I've dyed my hair damn near every natural color, from my actual blonde to super dark red/brown. I actually look tanner/darker with darker hair. It's like one of those optical illusions. I'm willing to concede this doesn't work for everyone, but either way, being pale doesn't make you Germanic looking. Moving on now.
I had left my gun locked in the trunk of my car. I didn't think the bachelorette party would get that out of hand.
I think this is what really bothers me. Out of all the dreck, these two lines shine. It's actually funny. I would say something like this, because I'm a sarcastic bitch. These little gems of humor give you hope, only to dash it with the absolute boring-ness of everything else.
We get some Anita meanness, followed by Catherine (the friend who's getting married--I feel like I may have missed that little bit during the last recap), who must have the patience of a saint to put up with her, telling her to be polite. And then we get one of those great, back-handed compliments that only women can really pull off.
I've never been able to decide if Catherine would be prettier if she cut her hair, so you'd notice the face first, or if the hair was what made her pretty.
That's a bitch move right there. Sorry, but it is. And about someone who's supposed to be your friend? Bad form, darling, bad form.
There's some more banal description followed by the kind of female interaction designed to make Catherine and Monica look weak and Anita look super tough. Sorry, I don't meet a lot of women in their mid to late twenties who still throw out words like "pooh" and "stick-in-the-mud", at least not with a straight face. Maybe I'm around a lot of cynical bitches, but we tend to stick with the more traditional "damn" and "fuck" and "shit". Or maybe we just have potty mouths.
The sign was a wonderful swirling neon the color of heart blood.
Again, this is one of those times where some clarification would be prudent. Is this blood still in the heart or not? If it's not, then it's not heart blood, which would make it red. If it is in the heart, then it's not really red red, even though it's in the same color. I'm not a medical genius, but you hear quite often that blood doesn't actually turn red until it's exposed to oxygen. Nitpicks. Moving on.
More colors, more words wasted on someone who may or may not be a throwaway character. I mean, dude gets a name, but that don't mean shit. Guilty Pleasures is the hottest ticket in town, by the way, but apparently there's no line. Maybe our party of three got there early. Who knows.
Then we meet Jean-Claude.
He looked like a vampire was supposed to look.
Wow, that's not judgemental at all, is it?
We get some sexy moments, although to me they're a combination of good manners and performance. If you're a club owner, you're friendly and flirtatious to a lot of people. It's good for business. Still, Anita manages to turn the entire exchange into a mind-fuck/seduction, followed by the requisite pissing match. Three chapters, three pissing matches. This girl is happy with NO ONE. That must be exhausting.
I'll admit, the idea of a holy item check girl at a vampire-centric club is smart. It's one of those tiny details that actually help make the world and scene instead of detracting from it. Unlike this:
You really need eye contact to play tough.
No, actually, you don't. I've personally found it pretty damn easy to be a hard-ass without looking someone in the face. The impression doesn't come from actions but from attitude. I've managed to piss people off simply by not looking at them--people think it's dismissive, which it kind of is, but it gets the point across that I can't be bothered wasting any time with you, which is one way of being tough. Maybe it's a regional thing, who knows.
Anita finally gives up the cross and the evening of fun can start. We also, finally, find out what Guilty Pleasures is--the world's ONLY vampire strip club. I'm curious as to how they can make this claim. You would think Vegas would have cashed in on this little market two years ago when the "vampires are human" thing got figured out. Apparently, you would have thought wrong.
We get some creepy interaction between Jean-Claude and Anita--or at least it's supposed to be creepy. I don't really think a man blowing me a kiss after he's been flirting with me is creepy, but I hang out in sketchy bars, so maybe I'm a little warped.
Color count: (including repeats and generalities) 19
Page count: 6
Drink count: None (it's 9 in the morning--I have work to do today, I can't get schwasted)