Last night's episode of MTV's little rattling skeleton jamboree was about people getting upset. First there was friend Erin at a whiny, whimpering crossroads. Does she follow her fart and re-hook-up with her old "first love" Braddison, or does she stay true to her Canadian boyfriend, Gobo? It was a tough decision, and one that needed to be made at the most important decision making place this side of Yalta: Brother Jimmy's BBQ. We're not sure if the exterior they showed was the Upper East Side location or the Murray Hill outpost or whatever, but that's where Braddison works and Erin came there to tearily tell him that she didn't know what she was doing.
You see earlier she and Braddison had maybe hooked up and then they kept hanging out and having fun and oooo he's so cute and lil' Erin just can't help herself. But then she thinks of dear Gobo up there in Canada, exploring new caves, and she feels sad and confused. So sad and confused that she goes to see Braddison again so she can tell him, in the middle of his shift, that she is sad and confused and he says "well... can we still hang out?" meaning "can I still be on the show?" and she shakes her head wearily. She doesn't know. She just doesn't know. She hasn't made a decision for herself in months. "The producers tell me when to poop," she murmured. Brother Braddison wrapped his slow-cooked, slathered arms around her and they sang a barbecue song to each other, while up in the frozen Northland, Gobo read his uncle's postcards from outerspace to try and make himself feel better. It worked a little bit, so he called his best friend Wembley and they wrote a ballad together.
Also feeling upset this episode were Whitney and her lovely Aunt Jay. They were upset with the wicked Olivia, because the wicked Olivia just does not appreciate Jay's band, the Albuquerque Funktown Experiment. Whitney finished her producer poop and then went and producer asked Olivia to Jay's producer concert. Olivia said producer yes and had the girls Erin and Whitney over for pre-show producer drinks at her apartment. Olivia, having already bitched to her sassafras cousin Nevan about how lame hipsters are and what does one do at a rock concert, deliberately tried to make them late by plying the girls with champagne (or "champy" as Olivia and French people with retardation problems call it) and trying on several different "DVF" (Dita Von Fleece, the burlesque performer's line for L.L. Bean) outfits. "We'd better go," Whitney mumbled. They didn't want to miss any second of Lady Jay and the Melody Mixers Chorale's concert. But Olivia didn't care and so they were late and Jay was sad and mad and Olivia swayed aimlessly and was maybe, I dunno, imagining being at a quiet, everyone-stays-seated private Billy Joel concert out in the Hampys.
Or maybe it was a Neil Diamond concert that she was imagining. That's what Jay figured anyway, when the purse-faced ladybitch came up in conversation at Whitney's all-white observation tower. You see, Olivia had oh so producer generously secured Jay and his band, The Kleinman Klezmer Klash, a gig at Olivia's friend's charity event (they give nice coats to hobos.) So Jay was all wary of going because he hates that uptown bulllllshiiit, because it's vastly different than being a male model bitching to Whitney Port about lady issues while sitting in her pristine, Howard Hughsian winter palace aerie. Though, to be fair, I did think Jay was being funny and sorta refreshingly regular in his disdain for all things Palermo. She's a straight up silly triflin' bitch and if you don't see it, ya burnt.
Anyway, Jay packed up the Country Time Lemonade™ Quintet's travel van and headed up or over or wherever this lamesville gig was. And, wouldn't you know, as soon as they launched into their first Touch of Grey-esque diddy, Olivia's fleshy, rubber-lipped cousin Nevan started making really unfunny, loud, coked-out jokes about them. "They're like the Beach Boys," he said, remarking incorrectly about their flannel shirts. "I mean, where are we, the Yukon?" OK, Yukon. Flannel. That sort of makes sense. All of the stupid idiot unwitting faghag girls who buzz around Nevan, including Lego-headed Olivia, tittered and twittered at his awful jokes about tambourines and things. Then a stranger walked up and looked at Nevan's face and said "Augustus Gloop called, he'd like his left ass cheek back." (Actually that didn't happen, but I wish it had.)
So Whitney overheard all of this and I think that Jay basically did too, or at least he could tell that no one at the whole venue was remotely paying attention to The Diane Ladd Experience's set, so he was all "fuck it, let's get outta here" and old Chubby Checkers Baby Huey Nevan heard it and got pissy. So Whitney and Jay stormed out and all the drawling, wilting lounge idiots were scandalized.
The next day (or whatever) at work, Whitney confronted Livs about the whole issue. Olivia said that Nevan is a grown ass man and that she can't control him. But, you know, she could ask him to hush up and not snicker like a little rat at his terrible jokes. She then launched back at Whitney saying that her stupid Hobo Coat Drive was a really fancy upscale affair and that Captain Jay and the De Vonterelles were just not dressed appropriately. Thennn she was all "we shouldn't mix personal and professional" just to shut Whitney down. Whitney sputter-glowered and that was it. So Olivia and her little pimento loaf cousin get to wreak their boring havoc once more on this dull little series, still unchecked. Ah well.
Judging from the previews, next week Gobo dies in a tragic cave-in; Jay's band, Ozymandias and the Champydellic, wins all the music awards; Whitney gets tangled up in her curtains and thinks she's gotten lost in her apartment; and Olivia and Nevan stare wistfully out over the Grand Canyon, rev the engine, clasp hands, and floor it. Luckily Nevan's skin acts like a Stretch Armstrong doll and gets snagged on a rock on the way down and they are saved.