Casey Anthony as Told by Andrea Peyser: The Romance Novel Edit


Below are some of the words and trite (tantalizing?) turns of phrase used by unyielding New York Post columnist Andrea Peyser to describe not-guilty murder mom Casey Anthony in Peyser’s third consecutive missive on the subject. “Casey the party monster,” though, far outdoes Peyser’s previous art projects in print — “Filthy mom shopping around for pay dirt” and before that, “The glove fits – this head case becomes new O.J.” — wringing every last drop of outrage from the Anthony verdict, but also oddly mixing in some uncomfortable lust with a healthy dash of sexism. We’ve gone ahead and cut out the boring parts, which we’ve already heard from Peyser, Nancy Grace and beyond, and turned Peyser’s prose into a scene from a dirty book. It works better that way.

[Note: We did some rearranging, changed a few tenses and capitalized some letters, but only added the words in bold. The rest are Peyser’s with the fat trimmed.]

She was tarted up like a Florida sorority girl looking for a quick-and-dirty hookup, nightclub-sexy in a lavender sweater dress designed to show off her generous curves. She continually fidgeted with her sweater, pulling it down and pulling at the sleeves.

She was a girl in a hurry, a self-absorbed girl who competed in “hot body” contests, rubbing her parts against random boys and girls in bars with a merry maw and sultry pink gloss. Her long, brown locks flowed loosely down her shoulders. She looked hot, in a hooker-behind-bars kind of way with a jailhouse version of Florida major hair.

She listened intently, ready to spring from the courthouse to the closest saloon. She retrieved a tiny tube of lipstick. Then, as if she thought no one was watching, she proceeded to dab it quickly on her well-worn lips.

Call the drunk boat! Hide the barstools!

The party girl is back, bitches!