YA novels are totally enjoyable, but usually leave me feeling like my adolescence didn't have enough angst to make me a well-rounded person. Sure, Bono called me fat, but my parents didn't divorce, I was over God by the time I got my period so I couldn't ask him for advice, and no one really bullied me too much. However, if Rainbow Party, had been around when I was busy pube-ascending* it would have been a welcome education, and my Dad probably would have been negligent enough to buy it for me. For whatever small amount of angst I had at fourteen centered around sex, embarrassingly apparent in the quite succinct first entry of my 8th grade diary I rediscovered when I was home over Thanksgiving: "I want to be gagged with a hankerchief and lose my virginity to Mr. [redacted] on a piano bench with candles all over while I play Mood That Passes Through You. The candles will burn us" (there was an illustration with this too, I think I may have had a sense of humor, but I can't say for sure).
I was obsessed with the Holly Hunter movie The Piano, and my English teacher, and the Grass-scented candle from the GAP. This was back when sex fantasies were really more generic pleasure fantasies and just involved somehow combining all of your hobbies, plus sex. I made my piano instructor hold off on Bach, and teach me to play the entire movie soundtrack in hopes of fulfilling my deflowering fantasy. The ultimate benefit of this absurdity is that now I can play it better than the mute betch in the movie. I have years of pent-up sexual energy pushing my fingers to new levels of nimbleness.
Marmsies proved the potency of her homosocial love by risking potential pervert status on her credit report when ordering Rainbow Party as a Hannuksies gift. It centers around a bunch of 14-year old girls who plan a Rainbow party. If you don't know, a RP is like spin the bottle, only instead of kissing there is dick-sucking. All the females wear different shades of lipstick in order to give the males dicks like Jackson Pollock masterpieces.
Incidentally, Marmsies also got me a vibrating toothbrush which plays The Black-Eyed Peas song "Let's Get It Started (Retarded) In Here" upon contact with one's teeth. There was an uncomfortable split-second where I had to decide whether I would employ this gem for my teeth or my vagina dentata. I choose teeth, mostly to spare my roommates musical knowledge of my wanking schedule. It's really impossible to describe-- I mean, you put it in your mouth and it feels and sounds like Fergie is stomping around in your fucking head. My writing is not good enough to capture the toothbrush's graces so I made a short movie on my Mac to send to my sister as a live demonstration of its awesomosity. I would share it here, but it features Marmsies and I in bath robes and we look like satisfied lovers who just finished gingerly bathing each other after an intense fisting session. Also as a rule all my videos with phallic-object-in-mouth go in my special secret folder entitled "Term Papers from Neuro112", which sounds so boring, no one ever opens it.
The first chapter of Rainbow Party begins with the numero uno slut buying different shades of lipstick for the six female participants. Her handling of the lipstick tube somewhat prepares us for the handling of tubular objects to come:
Gin took the slender shaft of the tube in her palm. She gave a gentle tug along the base and watched as the lipstick extended to its full length. Her eyes darted to the sides, making sure no one was watching as she tilted the ruby tip to her lips.
AWESOME.
By the third chapter, Hunter and Perry, two supposedly straight junior high boys, are sucking each other off in the boy's room. This turned me on. Are You There God? It's Me Lauren, I Am Sorry.
Ultimately though, the book is like one of those hand jobs you give your first boyfriend, the ones that never reach climax because high school boys acclimate their dicks to wanking with the intensity of frantically punching a shark in the eyes and you just don't have that kind of upper body strength or fight-to-live will. The Rainbow party never happens. The book kind of dissolves into commentary on the sexual morales of junior high, which is good, I suppose, because YA books shouldn't just be porn. There's enough of that. The two sluttiest kids in the school get gonorrhea, and I appreciated how the narrative points out the discrepancy in slut-labeling:
Gin had no proof that Hunter had been the one to start the spread of gonorrhea through the sophomore class, but she just had this feeling. Of course, he had been the one to sound the alarm, which made him some kind of hero, while Gin was relegated to town slut.
For sers, this book was amazing. I was forced to swallow my pride and whip it out on the subway. Really, this post should be titled: Marmsies Buys the Best Presents Ever and I Wuv Her.
*this is intended to be a pun on pubescent as a verb, while also detailing the growth of pubes-- it is in its trial phase, obvs: does it work or no?
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