Oh what beautiful drama! I mean, that's the whole point of shows like The Hills and The City, right? To paint in lush, high-def brushstrokes a picture of beautiful young women biting their lower lips and furrowing their wrinkle-free brows and dashing off into sunsets weighted and worried with drama. And if that's the measure, if that's the low bar we've set for quality, then last night's episodes of those two swoony, pearl-drop earring shows succeeded. Well done.
I mean, as was the case last week, The City--so dull and feckless last season--has suddenly morphed into a show about girls navigating fake jobs and scary bosses and coworker dramz, which makes it far better than the stagnant mire of creaky old love rhombuses that makes up The Hills. It's just more compelling, relatable television. I mean who hasn't had a terrifically frightening boss? Who hasn't had difficult coworkers mucking up the gears every step of the way? Sure most of us probably don't work fake TV show jobs for high fashion, but some core principle stuff is always the same. So yes, dear readers, I am actually sort of enjoying The City this season. I have an appointment with a witch doctor next Tuesday to cast this malady out.
In the meantime! I still comfortingly dislike The Hills. What a bust Kristin Cavallri is, huh? I thought she'd hold the camera and say interesting things and generally be a little more peppery than washed-out old LC. But instead I feel like I can barely even get a good look at her. She's so weird and elusive; she seems much farther away from the camera than everyone else on the show. And she doesn't even say sentences, just a series of yeahhhhhhs and whateverrrrrs in that too-over-it-to-even-speak drawl of hers and I don't know, maybe I'm old or crazy or something, but I just can't figure out anything she's saying. It's like trying to read in dreams. All the letters are there but in such a fuzzy jumble. Kristin Cavallari is doing things to my brain. Bad, unexpected things. I wish she'd stop.
I also wish she'd stop dating this Justin Bobby character. Because who is Justin Bobby? I don't think he knows. I don't think his parents know. I don't think anyone knows who Justin Bobby is. Is he a brooding and bearded and petulantly sullen rocker biker dude? Is he a clean-shaven broheim who likes sucking mug with perky blonde girls in swirly dervish night clubs? Is he an actor? A musician? A professional whiskey smeller? He's such a pile of nothing and yet I find my self scratching my head and trying to consider all of his somethings. I guess it's sort of perfect that these two ciphers would become a couple, and become a couple they sort of did.
While Audrina was off pretending to work for the record company by hanging out with a girly-pop band and bopping mournfully to their music, Kristin and JB were at the opening of some club called Playhouse. (For a brief, flashing second when Handbags said she was going to Playhouse I thought "Omigod, that girl is going to see some theater! Good for her!" But of course it was a nightclub.) Nothing was really goin' awn at the clurrrb except Brody and Frankie were proudly in love with each other while their fake girlfriends, Some Lady and the Jayde Scorpion, looked at Kristin and whined about her. Why is Jayde on my TV? Honest to Christ, I've met dung beetles more interesting than Jayde. They smell like dung, but at least their names aren't Jayde (they're usually Harolds or Esthers, the dung beetles are). So there. Anyway, at some point Brodes was todes ragging on JB for shaving his bro-beard and looking all clean-cut, but Kristin liked it, or was told to like it or whatever, so she took JB up to the kissing loft of the club and they did their kissing. Meanwhile Audrina stood at her "work" concert, her little deer heart flapping against her chest, feeling polarity shift under her feet. Audrina gets seasick when she's standing on dry land.
Kristin and JB went for a ride on JB's ridiculous motorbike so they could talk about their not-relationship. Man... that motorcycle is just so profoundly retarded. With those handlebars all the way up above his head. That mortifyingly purposeful look he gets on his face when he climbs aboard the dumb thing. Those helmets! Ohhhh, those helmets. As if they had anything above their necks to protect. Sad story, that motorscooter. Anyway, they went to get a beer at a seaside bar somewhere and clarified to each other that they were just having fun. No biggie. No muss, no fuss. That's all. They're just having fun. Back at some terrible place in the city, Audrina talked about how Kristin is nothing but a Good-time Gal. She's a floozy. A sad, dizzy dame. Audrina frowned, she looked at the sun. It seared into her eyeballs. She liked the burn of it.
The only genuinely interesting thing that happened on Hillsies last night was that a child was on the show. An actual small version of a person was brought onto The Hills and allowed inside Heidi and Spencer's house so they could use him--again, a living, breathing small human being--as a little prop in their We Always Fight! scenery chewing. Basically he's the live-in nephew of a perfect, young, chiseled couple who lives next door. Heidi loves the little tyke, Spencer hates him. Heidi says she'll babysit and the kid can play with Spencer's videogames, but Sppencer wants to be the only kid to play his videogames and he wants the little rugrat out of his house forever. So basically that's what they fought about and Spencer was unendingly rude and cruel to a small child and ughhhh... It's so weird when anyone under the age of 18 or over the age of 28 comes on this show. Because it just queers the dynamic so much. It shines a really bright light on how awful and ugly and immature the whole Hills project is. A child, dear show producers?? Really??? Whoever brought that kid on the show should be thrown in jail. As should whoever brought Spencer and Handbags' sad old grandmother on the show a couple seasons back. It's just... it's just not the right place for the innocent and elderly. Please. Respect some small measure of humanity.
At the end of the episode Audrina's eyes caught fire and she became a phoenix. Kristin said some things but I couldn't hear her over the roaring ocean sound that comes out of her mouth when she talks. Justin Bobby stared in the mirror and considered growing a beard on only one side of his face. Hey, it could work. It could be a look. And Handbags, who couldn't get anyone to go to the Playhouse party with her so she could meet boys, well she just stood in the bushes outside of Heidi and Fleshbeard's glass castle. She watched as they fought, watched as Spencer poutingly let a small kid play his videogames. She watched as Heidi went to the kitchen to make dinner and she saw that Heidi was crying, quaking with a few quick sobs before she pulled herself together and began to cook. Handbags knew it was awful in that glass house, knew there were stones thrown everywhere. But still she wanted in. She wanted something. A child...., she thought wickedly. Then I'll have a family... She smiled wickedly. Inside, Heidi cried more.
To be continued!
Over here on the Right Coast, everybody was getting to work on The City. Whitney was bumbling around with her big cowbell ringing under her neck at People's Fashion, the company/cruel dictatorship established by Kelly Cutrone, who is sort of like an animate coffee stain that's really mean. Accompanying Whitney on her journey into the heart of darkness was new pal Roxy, who--in the spirit of an episode that was partly about knock-offs--is the had to move back into his parents' basement man's version of Megan Fox. She's throaty and assertive but not backed up by much of anything. It's sort of a surface confidence she's got, a thin layer of muscle and skin stretched out over a gooey blob of the kind of dumbness and vanity that would compel someone to show up on a damn MTV reality show. So she's a phony, but at least she's an interesting one.
Whitney and Roxy are friends sorta, but they also kind of obviously hate each other. Mostly because Roxy has been working at People's Clothing Concern for like five minutes and yet acts like she knows more than Whitney. Roxy is also haughty to Kelly Cutrone, which means that someday soon she will be murdered. I can't wait! Roxy's first task was to accompany Whitz to a fashion photoshoot. They were to drive Kelly's enormous Ford full of clothes to the location and hopefully not fuck anything up on the way over. They managed to get there without a major accident--what's a few dead bicyclists, really--but Kelly was displeased because first Whitney forgot clothing clips so the enormous, size-zero jeans would properly fit their big fat model. Second Kelly was pissed because Roxy went up to the client and gave him a suggestion (that the model should take her top off because otherwise she was boring) without going through Kelly first. The suggestion turned out to be a good one, but daaaaammnnnn Roxy! You do NOT piss in Kelly Cutrone's toilet without asking her first, kno'wm sayin?
So you could tell that Whitney was secretly glad that Roxy got in trouble because, again, they both sort of hate each other. I hope for Whitney's sake that they weren't actually living together during the shooting. I mean, I imagine that Roxy smells like corn chips or something equally gross and gas-station-convenience-mart-y. She's a trashbag, that Roxy. I mean, her name is Roxy. Anyway, Whitney was slightly vindicated when Kelly got mad at Rox, though Kelly was certainly not mad enough to actually fire Roxy. Because Roxy is good TV! All brash and willful and blurry around the edges. Kelly needs her for her TV appeal. It's simple math.
Speaking of that simple math, oh Joe Zee... How low can ya go? After having a money-gun held to his head last week and being told to hire malevolent socialite Olivia Palermo to work at his little cottage 'zine called Elle, he continued to press on with the charade that she is remotely qualified to do anything more than sit and distractedly eat strawberries and drink champagne. Oh, who am I kidding. Palermo doesn't eat strawberries. She just gnaws on baby bones. But yeah, she's now tied into this whole ridiculous Elle plotline, which involves a higher-up named New Erin who hates her (as she should! as everyone should!). And last night Livs was told to go down to Scarytown (aka Chinatown) to find some knock-off bags and other accessories on Canal Street so Erin could feature them in a Today Show segment about counterfeit merchandise. Ha ha ha ha, we all thought. Olivia Palermo on Canal street? Ridiculous! But then, actually? She did kinda good.
I mean, MTV felt compelled to pretend that she knows how to take the subway, so that was kinda dumb. And then she didn't get enough sunglasses and jewelry and all that other stuff that is accessories, which is, oh you know, the department Olivia works in. But with the lone task of procuring good-quality knock-off handbags? Girl was fierce. Walked right up to a vendor, demanded a list of styles, haggled about price, and just took care of business. I mean, I was just impressed that she knew how to talk to an ethnic (let alone a foreign one!). But price bargaining like that and stuff? Good work, Liv. And enjoy that. Because you will never hear me say it again.
Back at Elle, Erin was pissed because Olivia didn't finish the job but Joe Zee held firm and, in a series of obviously dubbed-over speeches, told Olivia she'd done well and informed Erin that she needs to suck it up. Because magazines are in hard times right now, Erin! If you want a job, you have to put up with the reality star. Because she comes with cameras. Which take moving pictures. Which end up on TV. Which people watch. Which makes them think about Elle. Which hopefully makes them buy it! That is the logic. Six degrees of bringing home the bacon. Fall in line, babe.
And I dunno. It's pretty fake--the whole thing is an imitation of some other finer product--but I'm into it. I've fallen into line. I'm behind it. Instruct me, dear leader. Dear Kelly Cutrone, high chancellor of the People's Fashion Republic! Oh my god... I've been indoctrinated, haven't I?