I wanted to start my own Baby-Sitters Club when I was a kid. The question was, which broadly drawn character was I? I wasn’t Kristy, because I wasn’t a leader or a tomboy. I wasn’t Mary Anne, because even though she was shy, she had a boyfriend. I wasn’t Stacy (stylish) or Claudia (stylish AND couldn’t spell) or Dawn (from California) or Jessi (dancer). As much as I hated Mallory, I was a total Mallory. Always writing, big hair, total nerd; yeah, a Mallory.
I know who I definitely wasn’t though…Karen.
Karen was Kristy’s little sister. She had her own spinoff series, and even though I read them (because I read everything), I hated her. She was such a whiny dweeb. Observe:
“School used to be fun…until Karen wore that sweater.”
“There are too many boys in Karen’s family!” Uh, stop being such a little prude and get in the car, bozo.
“What’s Karen done now?” I literally do not even want to know.
Nice try, Karen! There is room for exactly one club in Stonybrook and that’s THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB. What does a “kittycat club” even do? Hold/stare at cats? Sure, that sounds like fun, but that isn’t a club.
Karen, a mullet is WHAT YOU DESERVE for getting your hair cut by a woman who apparently draped a toupee across her head. You’re lucky nothing worse happened.
“Two Karens?!” That tagline basically sums up my reaction. Like anyone wants to bite her style.