So here’s a funny thing that happened last week. I was just sitting in front of my computer, bashing the keyboard since that’s the only way I manage to put out something halfway readable, and I noticed something weird about my blog statistics.
See, on a good day, I usually get x amount of visitors to my blog, usually drawn here by the search words “alex pettyfer shirtless”, “kellan lutz shirtless”, and “winter is coming big tits”. Sometimes, when I get linked by National Book Store, it rockets upwards to around y amount of visitors.
But last week, views on my blog skyrocketed to z, and after the initial celebration I wondered what spurred this sudden interest. Did I get linked over on National Book store’s Facebook once again? Turns out I didn’t. So who did I have to thank for this surge in views?
Apparently, I had Tyra to thank because last week she debuted the moving fashion editorial you see at the top of this post. It’s all about her book, “Modelland”, and it generated enough interest for people to start looking for reviews of the book online. And guess who’s been taking the pains to review it chapter by chapter.
I knew one day I would be a trendsetter.
So where were we at the last post? Tookie, unsurprisingly, got picked to be in the running towards becoming
America’s next top model an Intoxibella, and along the way they passed by Diagon Alley Bou-Big-Tique Nation and picked out Applejack Whitney Dylan as yet another candidate for future Intoxibella.
In Chapter 11 — “Shiraz Shiraz” — the pouch the two of them are traveling in starts filling up with thick white goo. Thick. White. Goo.
So, uhm, yeah. Thick white goo. Tookie and Dylan are swimming in it.
“…the goo had already reached her waist. It rapidly filled the pouch, soon submerging even their heads. But weirdly, Tookie could breathe in it as easily as a fish could breathe in water. The warm goo grew thicker and thicker until it was difficult for her to move.”
I don’t even know, you guys. I just. I’m. Yeah.
Once they get out of the goo, they find out that the Scout has taken them to Canne Del Abra, and I’m giving you all three guesses to find out what it is exactly they do in Canne Del Abra.
If you answered “cane manufacturing”, you’d be wrong. If you answered “making wooden replicas of the northern Philippine province of Abra”, you’d also be wrong. What Canne Del Abra specializes in…are candles. Because Canne Del Abra sounds like candelabra. Get it? Get it?
Naturally, since it’s not enough for Tyra to have the whole place named after a freaking candle/candle holder, the whole place has to be all about the candles.
“Candles in all shapes and sizes lit the entire town. Every house had an immense candle where the chimney should have been, and thin candles illuminated every street. A stiff breeze blew, and all the lights flickered in a surge. Some blew out but relit just seconds later.”
Okay, so that was kind of an okay description. Tip of the hat to you, Tyra!
Down below, the inhabitants of Canne Del Abra are scurrying around speaking in a language apparently made up only of vowels. It’s Labrian, and Tookie understands it perfectly because Tyra already told us that Tookie is a polyglot way back in Chapter 1.
Not that there’s anything groundbreaking in what’s being said. As with Metopia and Bou-Big-Tique Nation, everybody’s just worried/excited about T-DOD. But unlike the previous chapters, the girl that gets picked this time around has been waiting to be picked all her life.
“‘Of course!’ Shiraz spoke in Labrian, confidently extending her hand to the Scout. ‘You have come for me!’
…I try to speak in the English. I am Shiraz Shiraz! Seven inches and four feet tall! Perfect for studies at the Modelland, yes?’”
A few things: Why does English retain its name while everything else becomes Labrian, Tres Jolie, BayJingle, and Colorian? Like I’ve said in previous posts, Ty-Ty, if you’re going to go crazy, go full blast crazy! Or as Dylan would say it, cuh-ray-zee!
And if you guys haven’t figured it out by now, Shiraz Shiraz is as stereotypically French as Dylan is stereotypically Southern. Also, in typical stereotype fashion, the redneck and the French sophisticate do not get along at all.
“‘But you two, you are not the beauty exceptional like Shiraz.’
Dylan pursed her lips. ‘Ex-cuh-yuse ME! You may be all cute and little and can run as fast as an exotic feline in the plains, but hold up a sec, Miss Thang, cuz Miss Modelland, or should I say the Modelland’ — Dylan mocked Shiraz — ‘don’t have girls lookin’ like you up in there either!”
I’m willing to bet all my shirtless pictures of hot guys that Shiraz Shiraz is actually Naomi Campbell.