Please meet some very unique individuals.

I just had to rescue myself from Bravo TV.

First I got wrapped up in NYC Prep.  There wasn’t anything else on TV.  And you know, watching real idiots is so much better than watching fake ones á la Gossip Girl.  The reason I haven’t been watching this show closely is the same reason I didn’t watch The O.C. or Gossip Girl, for that matter.  I went to an Atlanta Prep school with people who behaved EXACTLY like these ones.  When I say exactly, I mean dressed like, talked like (give a lil southern accent), behaved like…dressed like….believe it or not, these people are total stereotypes.  I remember I found them boring and insufferable.  I am again thrown into those old high school feelings, like I am the only one with sense left on this planet. Thank all thats sweet in life that Bravo can make all of this dramatic, but I can’t help but feel sorry for these people.  Not in the least because an entire room of (on average) 17 year old girls get all hot and bothered because some bro, who goes by the name “PC” (who undoubtedly has a prolonged sibling rivalry with Mac…) says, true to brazen brunette dickwad form, “Lets play the virgin game! Who’s a virgin!?”

First of all, Peec, let me help you out a little in this big game of life, you are gay!  I guess this is something you will not fully realize until you get to college.  But I’m just tryna help a prep school bro-ham out.  Secondly, that is not the virgin game.  You can’t play the virgin game at dinner in someone else’s house/restaurant.  Thirdly, if the only girls you know blush when you say the word “virgin,” you need to get out more.  And if you take this unfortunate, uncontrollable, facial tick to mean anything other than some people already know you’re gay,  I think you need to talk to a skilled professional.  Lucky for me (and you) Piece is being sent to one in the next episode.

I could take him.  I have taken him.  He just had a different name and was from Atlanta.

I’m still sitting and letting my dinner digest when on comes Miami Social.  I was in Miami just the other day.  But not South Beach or Aventura.  The Haitian/ Hispanic part.  It was zexy alright.

When some guy says “I’m dating a Russian hottie.  we have a volatile relationship.”  cuts to the “Russian Hottie” storming into the hallway, throwing some glass, in a cooch-revealing gray dress, looking exactly like the mail-order bride I had to sit next to once on a train going west from Krakow (except with a better dye job), I realize, letting my bruschetta with Sicillian olives fall to the floor, that the wealthy, old and young, are just the same as they have always been.

i.e., like Dorian Gray.

At his peak of course.

The most important epiphany though, is that being familiar with these types in my youth has made me adamantly unlike them in my adulthood.   Loudmouthed idiots won’t make me blush.  I mean, I can’t cause I’m black.  But even if I could, I wouldn’t.

I have to laugh when I hear someone say, “I’m dating a Russian Hottie” purportedly in real life.  Is “Russian Hottie” on the birth certificate?  Is Ms. Russian Hottie the reason for your volatile relationship?  Oo! Oo!  I want one too!  Or, better yet, give me a Serb.  I don’t want any lover of mine throwing glass in the hallway.  I have a penchant for glassware.  I’d throw glass at her before she’d even have a chance to get to my stemless cobalt glassware.  I’d rather my Scandalous Serb throw me some bullets …or knives. After all, what’s volatility without violence?

In the end, that’s the brilliance of Bravo.  These people are off of average enough to make them tv-worthy, predictable enough to intrigue the general public, while being relate-able enough to be a topic of discussion.

Tomorrow I am (allegedly) starting my internship with EFMAG.net, online Atlanta magazine.  I’m a little intimidated because every woman in there wears sky high heels, and I just don’t see how thats necessary….

Yours,

R