Anchorage Daily News

It was another round of the Todd and Sarah Palin Look-Alike Contest, and while the first week drew 17 Sarahs and two Todds, you could have counted this night's contenders on one hand and still had enough fingers left to clutch the throat of an ice-cold bottle of Bud.

Three Sarahs and nary a Todd.

"Now all you guys, if you have facial hair, if you sign up you're going to the finals," contest instigator Bob Lester told the crowd at Blues Central. "If you're a chick with facial hair, you can be Todd Palin at this point."

The "Bob" of KWHL's "Bob and Mark" morning show even tried talking Wicked Wanda, the club's 70-something bouncer, into being a Todd.

No takers.

But there's still plenty of time to get in touch with your inner Palin. The contest continues this Wednesday and next, with each week's winners advancing to the finals Oct. 29.

Grand prize is a guided moose hunting trip and a rifle, one for the Sarah, one for the Todd. And beaucoup beer for the both of them.

"Plus you get immortalized on a Jones Soda with your picture on the label and everything," Lester told the crowd. "The 'Sour Palin' and the 'Todd Pa-lime.' "

Sarah and the Pitbulls, a band that threw itself together specifically for the contest, opens this weekly gov-love fest, which has drawn interest from "Inside Edition," "Entertainment Today," "Fox News," the CBC and others, according to Blues Central manager, Bob Winn. The band's singer, Joanna Papasodora, is a sizzling Sarah in terrifying stiletto heels and a black dress tight enough to do lung damage. The band is her Secret Service detail, in black suits, white shirts, black ties, dark glasses and wires sprouting from their ears.

As for the contest, it's not just about looking the part. Contestants also compete in the talent portion by answering or evading questions.

One round of Sarahs -- Renee Carroll, Ilene Staten and Toni Pientka -- took questions like these from Rebel Blues front man Rob Woolsey:

"Could you please spell and define 'doctrine?' "

"No."

"Read any good magazines lately?"

"Yes. I really enjoy People and Us."

"How do you feel about your recent interview with Katie Couric?

"I was not there."

"No, mama, you weren't."

Staten and Pientka, flight attendants for the Conoco Phillips charter between Anchorage and Prudhoe Bay, said Staten didn't do anything special to look like Sarah.

"This is me," Staten said. "Right here. These are my real glasses."

People were noting the resemblance long before pit bulls started painting their lips "At least five or 10 passengers a day will say, 'Oh my gosh, you look like Sarah Palin. Can I be your bodyguard?' "

SO MANY SARAHS

By comparison to subsequent rounds, the first night of the contest had a Sarah surplus.

"We had every kind of Sarah you could imagine," said Winn. "Tall, short, wide, thin. Some more provocative than others. If you had a Sarah fantasy, it would have been there."

The basic Sarah recipe contains three ingredients: the hair, the glasses, the suit.

Sarah-contender Kris Doughty, an Anchorage legal assistant and student, needed help in the hair department, and found it on U-Tube by Googling "Sarah Palin's hair."

Christina Mulneaux, owner of a Wasilla floral shop, went the professional hairdresser route. But first she had a big decision to make.

"Cut bangs or not, cut bangs or not."

She's not crazy about bangs, but she cut them anyway for the chance to win a moose hunting trip for her husband.

Janet Metzner is the barbed-wire Barbie in the band Alaskan Barby & the Kendolls. She played her Sarah with a Barby twist, as summed up by the lyrics of her theme song:

I'm an Alaskan Girl with my big attitude

I wear jeans, t-shirts and my combat boots

If I want your lip I can scrape it off my shoe

If I want your opinion I'll beat it out of you

Whitney LaRose flew up from Kenai to be Sarah for the night, a move entirely out of character. She's a surgeon's assistant at Central Peninsula Hospital, a mother of three who goes to bed at 8:30 at night.

It was the list of prizes that seduced her.

"I mean, I love guns," she said. "And I want to go on a guided moose hunt. My kids were more excited, 'Oh you get your name on a Jones Soda!' I was like, 'What's a Jones Soda?' "

Once LaRose told friends and co-workers, it became a community project.

"One girl brought in a black skirt for me. Another girl brought a red jacket. And I had another meet me at the airport with panty hose because I don't own any panty hose."

The airport was a scene. People kept staring at her, whispering and pulling out their cell phones. And on the plane, as eyes followed, she went for some empty seats in the back only, to be followed by a guy who jumped at the chance to sit next to Sarah Palin.

She took a taxi to Blues Central, walked in with her overnight bag, took a seat at the end of the bar and asked herself, "What am I doing here?"

She was first on the list and first on stage.

Adrenaline saved her. Asked about energy policy or some such thing, it was like she started channeling the real thing.

"We need to drill, drill, drill!" she shouted, punching the air.

The crowd went wild.

"Sar-ah! Sar-ah! Sar-ah!" they chanted.

LaRose isn't sure what came over her that night.

Wait a minute. Yes she does.

"I just wanted to win that rifle."

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