Here’s the thing: There are plenty of reasons I don’t watch Gossip Girl
(note the returns of BSG! Lost! Friday Night Lights! Big Love! 24! [shut up it’s awesome]! The Office! 30 Rock! Monk! Psych! Burn Notice!
), but the biggest reason of all – besides a general aversion to the “rich young assholes prancing around like they matter” genre – is this one episode of it that I saw once.
This brunette, one of the leads, had carefully arranged a meeting at the skating rink at Rockefeller Plaza, involving herself, her dad, some other guy, and a couple of other people – don’t know, don’t care who – and had all the timing, and words, and outfits all set up just so. Needless to say, someone failed to perform according to script, and the whole thing fell apart and waaaah.
GodDAMN, did that push my buttons.
See, there is a person from my past – won’t say who, or even what gender or when in my past this was, because I don’t know if this person might be a Damn Kids
reader, and if so, he/she would probably be flattered by my writing about him/her in any capacity – but this person saw the entire world and everybody in it as set dressing on the stage that was his/her Fabulous Life. I cannot count the number of times I was drafted into his/her schemes, or was the beneficiary/intended audience of one, or an unwitting player, whether bit, walk-on, or major supporting role (needless to say, he/she was always the STAR). Each actor in a given scheme was usually only handed their own pages of the script, as it were, so that this person alone knew the whole setup – he/she was writer, director, producer, publicist, agent, etc. – and everyone else was supposed to know nothing of the production at all. We – the other five billion Earthlings -- were supposed to think it was entirely organic, when in reality, nothing about this person ever was if he/she could help it.
Goddamn motherfucking tiresome. So, no, I don't wanna watch a teevee show about that.
Labels: cryin' amazacrazy, dead to me, life 101, they ain't takin the TEE-vee, way too old for this kind of shit anymore