New York and L.A.: the cultural capitals for our fair nation. They house some of the greatest minds and talents of our generation, like the business savvy of New York's Kelly Cutrone and the athleticism of Los Angeles' Dennis Rodman. Shows seem to be getting more location-specific, from the branding of "The Real World" in a different city every season to "Real Housewives" franchises popping up everywhere. But what Bravo (and VH1, MTV and Lifetime) have taught me is how out-of-control, bat-shit crazy the people living in L.A. and New York are. I don't care if people on TV don't represent all people in these cities: they are on TV so they're the only ones that matter.
The level of crazy in New York (like the auspicious pill-popping going on in the background of every scene) is palatable, even lovable, but L.A. intrigues me in the way a disfigured monkey intrigues me. It started this week with good ol' Patti-Poo Stanger on "The Millionaire Matchmaker." Being on Bravo, the gayest channel on TV save HGTV, it was only a matter of time before Patsy set up a gay millionaire. Finally the time had come. Of course, there's probably tons of gay millionaires in L.A. with their disposable income and lack of children sucking them dry for iPods and Seven jeans. And I think everyone can agree that Gayfer McMillions was by far one of the most likable dates on the show. He's the hippie-dippy kind of gay, into "spirituality" and astrology, but obsessed with working out and wanting hot man candy. Can you blame him?
Patti-poo and Daddy Gaybucks had their astrological charts examined together, and lo and behold, they have similar charts and will like the same type of guy. That doesn't surprise me: Patti always seemed the type to be dating with the gay best friend, never the bride. Patti is trying to expand her "new gay division" of her company, but says she doesn't know anything about gays yet. Yeah right. "Come on," she says to her esteemed coworkers, "every gay guy needs a twink." I'd have to agree with you there, Patti-poo. Their gay date was the PERFECT date (especially compared to his hetero counterpart's), but their end-of-date kiss was horrid. It must have been the cameras--I just won't believe that Gaybucks isn't a good kisser!
Rupert, Patti's other client, is a successful British director and a total prick. "So picky and so British," Patti says because England is to her what L.A. is to me--an annoying place I never want to go to. Rupert is used to making intricate decisions for his job, but has a hard time deciding between beautiful Eastern European airheads for his date. "WHAT DOES YOUR SCHMECKLE SAY!" Patti snaps, pointing at his tiny British prick. It didn't matter what his schmeckle said, because it was already time for the first date. The girl was looking stunning in a short dress as the entered the limo and pulled up to ... a food kitchen in downtown L.A. Is this Rupert trying to show his date how down to earth he is, by pulling up in a limo and serving food in evening attire? Later they went to the super exclusive and fancy Rosa Mexicano, which you Atlantans can even find in the super exclusive and luxurious Atlantic Station. How shmancy. The guys on "Millionaire Matchmaker" always think their dates went amazing when of course the girl is miserable the whole time. Oh, dating millionaires is so complicated in L.A. If only it was easy like Atlanta where you can just tell a new money guy you're on the pill and then get pregnant and they're forced to pay for your shopping and alcohol problem.
I can't even go into "The Real Housewives of Orange County." A week after downsizing into a smaller house and throwing a housewarming party, Lynne was evicted from her home. Then a few days later, she bought a $1,000 black leather jacket. I guess that's what they do in L.A. ... but that jacket really did look good on her.
Over on "Celeb Rehab with Dr. Drew," the veneer of SoCal humanity finally cracked. Kari Anne is to me L.A., a drug addict who can't go anywhere, even to the public bathroom to take a poop, without full make-up. But it's her "perfect appearance" on the outside that she thinks is hiding her totally messed up life on the inside. It's not working Scary Anne! But it's gigantic Dennis Rodman who finally has a breakthrough this week. Even this far into treatment, Rodman won't admit he's an alcoholic, and Dr. Drew (who took a break from his pants-dropping schedule of hosting "Teen Mom" video clip specials) even took him to get an M.R.I. that showed Rodman was having early onset alcohol-induced dementia. But Rodman didn't care. It wasn't until she-he Bridget Nelson talked to Dennis about her own struggle, that Dennis had his first breakthrough and admitted he was an alcoholic ... Remember when Dennis Rodman wore a white wedding dress and blonde wig to his book signing in Times Square? Yeah, that was awesome.
Over on the East Coast, it's all business for Kelly Cutrone on "Kell on Earth," who has pretty much alienated any sort of client she could possibly have by being an attention whore and needing a Bravo reality show. After Chado Ralph Rucci fired her the day after his fashion show, who would possibly hire her now? But lets blame the interns. It's always the intern's fault, especially when you have 20 interns in an office of 6 people. The interns, including a hottie Irish boy, put together gift bags for a new jeans company, and scribbled the name of the magazine editors in permanent marker. Not wrote, scribbled. Then the interns bought 61 cent stamps when all the needed were 44 cent stamps to mail out invitations--wasted seventeens of cents of Smelly's hard-earned money. Kelly had no choice but to yell, yell at the top of her lungs, at these young interns, leaving some of them to no doubt eat their feelings later that night. But really, it's not the interns fault, it's Stephanie Vorhees' fault.
Later at a jeggin's presentation--or jeans leggings for the laymen--a model fainted while standing in a hanging display of Swarovski crystals. But Smelly is a business woman, she doesn't have time to think about emaciated male models' welll-being. She had to make sure the ambulance lights didn't scare people off from her client's free jeggin's presentation. Alas, Smells pulled it off, even having a spare crystal to give a Vanity Fair editor who mistook it for a unidentified pill and immediately swallowed it without hesitation. Well ... he'll be having a nice surprise tomorrow morning.
Over on "Project Runway," the designers had the chance to design an outfit to be worn by none other than Heidi Klum (how'd they pull her!) on the cover of Mehhr Claire magazine (how'd they convince them!). That's not even trying. Mila, a paranoid New Yorker, freaked out that "no on congratulated her" when she came in second place, while Atlanta's Anthony won the challenge with a asymmetrical cyan dress. The judges said his dress was "slimming" on the model, who I guess must have been a fat-fatty to begin with. They didn't like all of the outfits though, and thought one of the dresses was too "sweet." "When I see Heidi, I don't necessary see sweet," hissed Neenah Gahseeah. Ouch! No wienerschnitzel for you!
These shows are National Geographic, and I love exploring uncharted crazy.
(Photo courtesy VH1)
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