This week on Gossip Girl, Blair went to the general vicinity of my apartment. She was terrified at the idea of learning to ride the subway. Fuck you, Blair. Rufus still thinks it’s a good idea to sell the gallery (and therefore NOT HAVE A JOB) in order to pay for his kids’ education. Jenny is styling her hair with a weed whacker. Serena is ignoring the fact that she’s a booty call for 47-year-old Gabriel-from-North-Carolina (where did that come from?) and, OMG, Georgina Sparks is back and she loves her some Jesus and is super boring.
Look, I’m not even going to address this bullshit “long-distance relationship” Blair and Nate think they’re going to have when he’s at Columbia and she’s at NYU. Instead, have I ever mentioned that Ugly Betty is stalking me? Yeah, I haven’t been watching it either. But the building they use as the exterior for Meade Publications, if they’re still calling it that, is the Woolworth Building near City Hall, which is where one of the publishers I work for when I’m getting paid real money (not blogger money; Dan pays me in catty comments about people we went to college with) is located. Twice now I’ve been there returning manuscripts and the show has been filming outside.
And Tuesday they’re filming on Fifth Avenue, on my route to work. So, yeah. America Ferrara knows how much I loved her in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and now she is stalking me.
Wait, Gossip Girl is still going on? I’m so distracted by shows about people who work for a living rather than this insipid, repetitive garbage. At least Ugly Betty is candy-colored insipid, repetitive garbage. Right, Blair thinks Gabriel (“the North Caroliar,” which I will have to try to remember for next basketball season) is cheating on Serena with Poppy, which he is even though Serena just said they were dating without strings or commitment or promise rings or whatever the fuck the kids are doing these days. Although since Gabriel is like seventy, maybe he just hasn’t tried to pin her yet. (Enjoy having that in your heads all day, y’all. Little gift from me to you. Look for Chuck Bass’s granddad about 1:50 into it.)
Okay, I’m not saying all of pop culture has to be about the recession. But between this oblivious show and the book I was copyediting today that has a stockbroker as a hero (err, poor timing there, Harlequin), I wish someone would just…fucking…mention it. And not in the feckless “Ooh, Eric’s out of town! During the school year!” throwaway kind of way or the way Dan blamed it for not getting zillions of dollars in financial aid to go to Yale (I’m thinking of making up a song so when I holler “CONSIDER LOANS OR PUBLIC SCHOOL” at him for the four-hundredth time, it rhymes). Would it kill these writers to dabble in reality? Wait. God. I just realized what I just said. Egad. Never mind. How about Chuck sleeps with Poppy? That would be great. Or Kristen Bell could show up in the flesh and be all badass and improve this show 700%. Maybe by siccing Backup on Rufus.
You know, I never thought Rufus would have anything in common with Friday Night Lights‘ Buddy Garrity, and that’s because I credit Buddy with a lot more sense than Rufus. But Rufus deciding to invest all his money (from…the sale of the gallery? Which has attracted zero interest since it went on the market?) in Gabriel’s bring-YouTube-to-Africa Ponzi scheme (srsly? He should call Bono) means he is totally going to lose all of the college money, plus, like, the loft. Because Rufus is a floppy-haired idiot who can’t even sell out correctly.
All right, I do not have high hopes for next week. I can’t bring myself to give a damn about everyone getting ripped of by Shmabriel (and AFTER A MADOFF JOKE IN THE EPISODE, YOU IDIOTS). Maybe by next week I will be able to summon some schadenfreude. In the meantime I will continue to allow Ugly Betty to stalk me. That Michael Indelicato is adorbs.