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Words fail me.

Oh, wait, they totally don't. GOOD SWEET JESUS, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON THERE? Liffey Rivers? LIFFEY RIVERS? It's hilariously bad, all right, but really, just the thought that someone (even fictional people) could name their child after a river that smells like fish-scented poo makes me want to burst into tears. And look at her. LOOK AT HER! The real mystery in this "girl detective" novel is the origin of Liffey Rivers. I think she was created in a terrifying laboratory by evil scientists intent on taking over the world with an army of freakish plastic-haired mutants. And as for the story...
Now the legions of Irish dancers have their very own heroine:

Liffey Rivers
Irish Dancer - Girl Detective

who manges to foil a sophisticated criminal plot, dance her soft shoe jig and even prevent a possible war-- all during ONE day at the Celtic Arch Feis in St. Louis where Liffey is determined to win her first gold medal and earn her first solo dress...

My mother was always adamantly against Irish dancing because, as she said, "you win a medal every time you learn a new step". So like the good little artsy middle class brats we were, we went to ballet lessons from the age of four, and later some of us went to tap classes, including me because I was a repellent show off whose dream was to star in musicals (which I never did, alas, although I did dance on the Olympia and Gaiety stages and can still tap dance quite well). I never had the slightest desire to learn Irish dancing, because apart from set dancing (which rocks, and which can be witnessed in a Jane Austen adaptation near you as many of the dances are the same, although ours are a bit livelier), I thought it looked crap and the ringlets were hideous and yes, you apparently got a medal for learning to tie the laces of your dancing shoes. I wanted to be a ballerina or a musical theatre sensation. And now I see that my mother and I have been proved right. Because frankly, if Liffey Rivers (even typing the name makes me snigger) is a heroine for Irish dancers, then their standards are pretty low. I mean, us tap dancers had Fred Astaire...


By the way, blame barsine for the damage done to your eyes by the sight of Liffey - she sent me the link!


( 41 comments — Leave a comment )
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Feb. 16th, 2006 10:12 am (UTC)
As we agreed when discussing suitably heritage names for any future son of mine, Liffey is clearly a boy's name.
Feb. 16th, 2006 11:01 am (UTC)
Kick 'Em High Liffey????

On a t-shirt????

Part of me is screaming "My eyes! My eyes! Make it stop! It is Burning!" and the other part is just screaming generally.
Feb. 16th, 2006 08:38 pm (UTC)
As someone who lives in Chicago, the number #2 city in America for pseudo-Irish "my great-great-great-grandmother was from Ireland, so I decorated my whole house in shamrocks" crap (Boston being the #1 city)...

What is with her hair?!? Because, really, the rest doesn't surprise me at all.

Feb. 17th, 2006 11:15 am (UTC)
As I said in my comment above - it is a WIG! Seriously. When I were a lass, the girls who did Irish dancing just got their mums to curl their hair for the obligatory boingy ringlets (no, I have no idea why boingy ringlets are obligatory), but apparently these days, perhaps in order to save time and prevent the little darlings curling-ironing their hair to a crisp, they wear wigs. EXPENSIVE WIGS. I saw a picture of a champion Irish dancer in one of the papers the other day, and her "hair" was just like Liffey's.
Feb. 17th, 2006 05:02 pm (UTC)
Okay, now I'm crushed. I've seen the girls with the sproingy hair, and I thought, "Oh, what nice, full hair! They must have so much patience to sit and have it curled like that." But my delusions have been dashed.

Actually, it's not so much her hair that bugs me, but the angle at which it sits atop her head. Like someone just pasted together two pictures that had NOTHING to do with one another. It's not right. It's just not right!
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( 41 comments — Leave a comment )


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