Dear Producers: Since you're still reminding us who Spencer is (as if none of us read US Weekly), why don't you also remind the young, impressionable, female gals who watch The Hills that this is also what a rapist looks like.
PS. That picture isn't blurry. That's just his facial hair.
This clip from this week's episode of The Hills is kind of long, but I think it does a really great job at showing what the show is in a nutshell: dumb as shit.
First of all, Whitney is my fave because she's the dumbest gal on the show. She's one of those people who over-annunciates her Gs. I bet she moves her cursor under the words while she reads her emails. Anyhoo, she's supposedly one of the stars of the show, and I know this because she's in all of the posters and is one of the four girls in the opening credits. But in actuality, her function is basically to be there while Lauren gets us up to speed on the stuff that's going on in her life - even though we JUST SAW IT in the previous scene. I guess it makes sense because we wouldn't want to see Lauren complain about it to herself. That'd be crazy.
Also, this week's episode was obviously scripted, as the feud between Lauren and Heidi escalated when they BOTH ENDED UP AT THE SAME RESTAURANT. OMG! Like, how big is LA? And "Ketchup" is the name of the restaurant? Even WHITNEY saw the, like, symbology or whatever in that name. Seriously.
And do the producers think you can't tell when they've looped and dubbed over dialogue? Spencer was able to have an entire phone conversation with Heidi in TWO SENTENCES.
I'm not surprised Lauren Conrad wants red lights in her room. Red lights = whores. Y'know?
Last night on The Hills, Whitney managed to display a brief range of emotions when Lauren admitted that her parents almost named her "Tiffany" or "Crystal."
She must have finally finished Freakonomics, natch.
1. Kristin and I went to the Empty Bottle on Friday night to see Magnolia Electric Co. It was my fourth time seeing them (now tied with Of Montreal), but probably the best show I've seen them perform. Also, I'm kind of in love with Jason Molina, as every single song he writes at this point breaks my goddamn heart. To wit:
2. On Saturday I slept until 12:30. Then I went to Jewel with Christina, and upon my return, took a nap. It was a terrific day.
3. Adam and Alissa had an End of Summer (Observed) barbecue on Saturday evening, since they'll be in Europe over Labor Day weekend. While I should have taken the opportunity to wear white jeans for the (first and) last time of the summer, I forgot. Instead I wore my cut-offs, which can be seen in this great picture (not!!!) that Adam took.
Notice my sweet Wii Bowling posture. That's the kind of stance that allows you ten frames of spares!
3. During a brief conversation about The Hills on Saturday night, I loudly declared that Heidi Montag was "a date-rape waiting to happen." I blame the Red Stripes. [PS. Googling that picture enabled my discovery of The Hills Blog. Jackpot!]
4. I had three off-putting dreams this weekend. The first one involved my ex trying to make out with me, and I literally woke up on Saturday morning afternoon with a jump, and then was kind of pissed off the few hours I was awake. Then I had one on Saturday night wherein I ran into my ex-best friend at a family function. I was prepared to hate him still, but then he brought over his baby, whom he named "Moremont" after an imaginary place that I made up when we were kids. Clearly, the way to my heart is to name your baby after something I made up, even if the "place I made up" wasn't even something that happened in my childhood, just one of those dreams I have that involved a lot of fictional back-story. And last night I had some sort of breakdown in my dream when I realized I'd never get into grad school because I didn't read The Scarlet Letter in high school. I think my subconscious is mad at me.
5. Christina and I had a pizza party yesterday and invited everyone who helped us move into our apartment. It was a lot of fun because we played Argue, which is my new favorite game. Adam and I had to debate on this hot-button topic: You're on a date and you suddenly realize that you have to take a shit... do you go in your pants or do you go on a bush in front of your date? I successfully argued the latter, and my winning argument was, "If you put pants on a dog, it's just going to shit in its pants." That may not be convincing when taken out of context, but trust me: it was a pretty powerful thought.
