December 2, 2000
She sits less than twelve feet away from me. Her hair is honey
cascading down her back, but it used to be molasses
. I note this with a smirk, put my nose back in my book... then look up again. She is animated
... an excellent people-watching subject. She glances at me as she gesticulate
s. I get the feeling that she is performing for the entire room, and I do not feel bad for observing.
She is beautiful, with a delicate jawline and small, upturned nose. She looks like the result of blueblood inbreeding. She wears black sex pants, a fitted teal sweater, and black boots. Her skin is 24 karat orange. She looks like a very expensive piece of tropical fruit. I realize that I am staring, return to my book, and glance up every few pages. I have the distinct feeling that she has recently begun playing house in alternaland, and is fiercely trying to carve out a hipster niche for herself.
Later, I listen as she gets involved in a conversation that her pampered life had not prepared her for. She fights her inexperience with bigger gestures and flirtation, but she knows she has lost. She is book-smart with no wisdom. She is rich, but emotionally bankrupt. The look on her face is priceless. She is defending herself with condescension. Her one-word responses drip with sarcasm. For the first time, money and connections cannot protect her. Even the right designer label will not help her. She is being proven wrong by the caste she has spent her life shunning, and she has no idea where their hostility is coming from.
I sit silently and observe. I enjoy the show so much, I feel very cruel. A call comes in on her cell phone, and she uses it as a graceful excuse to exit. As she bids everyone farewell, she leans into the face of a man she debated with and says, "Sorry 'bout that. I'm just a scrawny lil' thing. I can't help it."
I feel that this sums up the episode very well.