The Hills: Boys Are Kind Of Icky

Well, with the Olympics finished and the DNC out of the way, young people had nothing else remotely political or cultural to do this week. So, they watched a bunch of blondies make scrunched-up, “hmm, that’s a shame” faces whenever they talk about how lame boys are, and Kelly Cutrone secure her position as most awesome of any man, woman or See-You-Next-Tuesday who’s ever been on “The Hills.” Cheerio, old lady!
We get a recap wherein The Evil Duo “crashed” the party of a relative (to which they were INVITED!) and LC’s “romance” with Duhg is illustrated with musings on finding old prom pictures. Good God, I hope that’s a euphemism for banging, or LC is officially the most boring date on earth (and all this time I’d feared it was me!).

“Maybe later we can… you know… Dig up some used ticket stubs. Wink!”

We join our belles at PR, where Whitney is tiredly explaining how she’s going to New York the next day, because with Kelly Cutthroat, “when she wants you, she wants you.” I suspect she’s just as demanding at work too! LC, sporting half a ‘stache and raccoon eyes, stares at her – terrified as she is realizing that her only sane friend is slipping away from her. She advises Whit to “pack lots of black,” because you never know when you’ll have to look very slim or run to a quick funeral. Whit brings up the topic of Duhg as though it’s simply the next item on the syllabus. Hopefully later they’ll move on to 20th Century Neoclassicism, but for now it’s all about how boring LC finds her young buck. And you know when LC finds you boring, you are BOH-REE-INGK. I expect the next words out of her mouth to be, “Well, it’s just that his penis is kind of… you know…”

Too small? Too big? Right-angle crooked?

LC whines that she remembers liking him a lot more when they were, you know, seventeen. I can’t imagine why she’d suddenly not like him anymore, because certainly none of my friends from high school changed over four years and countless anonymous sexual encounters. “I just thought I’d hop right back into it,” she muses. Ahem. I hate to be a corrector (or do I?), but I believe it’s Duhg who thought he’d hop right back in.

She compares him to Broday and I think, Oh lordy, hon, has it been that long for you?

“It’s been, like, four sets of batteries long.”

And that stud muffin’s not doing it for you?

“Maybe you’re a lesbian.”

You know what’s really fucked up? I’ve wasted countless hours of my life watching this show and the opening credits are so good that they STILL make me love these bitches against my will. Maybe it’s just because this is the only time any of them look like they’re actually having fun. Gods damn you, MTV!

Anyway. At Fit’Em sometime later, LC greets StephPratt by slamming down her bag with (sexual) frustration. Steph gives her a Guidance Counselor Good Morning, and indeed, LC speaks as though she’s just obligated to be there.

And as we learned last week, nobody can make Steph Un-This.

Steph recounts the story of her Spencer rejection (horrors!) and assures LC that that douchebag is “outta sight, outta mind.” You know, that’s a real shame when you have to say that about your own flesh and blood. If they are, in fact, related. LC confirms their friendship (at least someone here has loyalty!) and I wonder what could possibly make Lauren choose to hang out with this bobblehead but find Duhg too unbearable to be around?

“Oh dear… perhaps I AM a lesbian…”

Some snappy electro-pop kicks in, which inevitably signifies our transition to the big, beautiful city of New York. I find it amusing how all of the L.A. filler shots are of faceless people carrying shopping bags and gabbing on cell phones, while, whenever “The Hills” travels to NYC, the stock shots are nervous people rushing around and actually working.

Except for these chicks. Yeah, this is pretty much what I do all day.

At PRNYC, citizens are, in fact, toiling away as Whitney waltzes into the office looking fresh as a spring bunny. Receptionist Stefanie, sporting an adorable new bob that makes her look a whole 4% less exhausted, lets K-C know she’s there. The C-face herself immediately accuses Whit of dilly-dallying, much to the flabbergastion (yeah, I made that up. What?) of our doe-eyed dear. Her Cuntiness suggests that Whitney make herself useful in casting by commanding young men to take of their shirts and drop their pants, and for the first time in history, every young lady in America wishes Kelly Cutrone were her boss. Dammit, I could totally rock that job (and give you all the dirty details in a follow-up recap)! Whitney, whom I’ve always suspected is a virgin, merely blushes and giggles. I do feel a little (a very little) bit sorry for her as she takes a deep breath, because I think of how totally fucking fabulous I feel the moment I get off a plane.

Indeed, it’s everything you (and by you, I mean I) have been dreaming of: tanned, toned, tattooed hotties getting half-naked for our viewing pleasure. Whitney, ever the professional, keeps her eyes focused on the fashion yet, as she steals a glance or two of a shirtless hunk, takes several deep breaths, presumably to harness her chi. I feel ya, honey.

Toot toot, Long John Silver!

Bosslady C-Face plays up her sass for the cameras, grunting, “Whooooaaa, Mr. Flat-Stomach!” and asks one piece of heaven in particular where he’s from. When he answers “California,” she sasses, “That’s a state, not a city.” Ha ha…. Hell, I would have accepted The Milky Way Galaxy if that dude were smiling my way.

“Really? MY parents were from Nebula 5 too!!”

He claims to have gone to USC, to which Whit shyly chirps, “I went to USC!” A mating dance ensues wherein he asks which Greek group she was a part of, to which she proudly claims not to have been a sororiwhore, and I love her even more. But the girl has very little game and stammers, “You… graduate… when?” At least she completed the sentence. That’s more than I would have accomplished. I probably would have just mumbled, “You… muscles… neat. Sex?”

I can see that there’s a possibility this may not have been totally set up by the producers because our Romeo isn’t properly mic’ed up. Thank God for booms, eh? Cutthroat helps a sistah out by suggesting Whitney take a photo of him without his shirt on. She becomes my official hero when she invites Cutie Pie Lankster out for drinks with them later on. Is it possible that she knows something other than work exists? Meanwhile, Whitney blushes more and giggles more.

“I take back all those times I called you a frigid bitch.”

“8:45 sharp. Here’s your shirt back,” Cutthroat snaps. God bless that haggard old fashion victim. As Whitney stammers and fiddles around with a Polaroid, Her Cuntiness declares efficiently, “This is called multitasking in the power bitch world.” I’ll say! You know, sometimes (very rarely), the jokes just write themselves. You’ve just earned your spot on national television, Kelly Cutrone.

Back in LaLaLand, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Douchebag roll up to a swanky eatery wearing some very fancy outfits for daytime.

Even for an evil powerbroker such as yourself.

“Ahhhh,” Douchey sighs, “I feel like I haven’t been alone with you in years!” Then I guess your two-year effort towards total isolation for you and your beloved isn’t working very well, is it? He gripes more about Heidi’s sister’s visit (wasn’t that like four months ago?) and expresses true regret at not having “thrown Stephanie’s cake in Lauren’s face.” Really? REALLY? That’s what’s weighing on your mind right now? When is somebody going to cheat on their significant other on this show, huh? Now that’s some real drama. Give me dish-throwing, give me nails clawing and bitches screaming, give me life!

Sigh. Heidi intimates a modicum of independence by threatening to hang out with LC and Steph. Oooohhhh, scary! She’s promptly counter-threatened by her emotionally abusive boyfriend who has also denounced his own sister’s existence. This is all very healthy indeed. And yet, I have to note that watching these two drink wine is like watching two little girls play “tea party.” They’re just faking what real adults would do.

While Christopher Walken asks, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE?”

Later, LC arrives at a restaurant wearing a bright smile and black lamè leggings. This is your breakup outfit? What a ruthless bitch! I have three seconds of respect for her until we see she’s actually just out with Broday. He compliments her bracelets and she explains in an annoyingly small voice, “These are my sparklies, and these are my friendships!” Yes, and then she pulled out her Barbie and Ken doll collection and made them make a baby.

“Then later, Midge will come over and they’ll play Swingtown.”

The Brodester still can’t believe she’s friends with Stephanie. Why not? You were friends with Spencer for like ten years. Lauren’s just dancing on the tip of the Pratt iceberg, give her some time to cultivate the hate. He insinuates that Steph has some major secrets that LC would NOT like to know. Like what? She’s been arrested? We all knew that months ago. Unless it turns out her toddler is actually her own grandbaby, born by her 17-year-old unwed daughter, who is now knocked up YET AGAIN, then I’m afraid I’m just not interested, Brode.

Broday laughs with self-satisfied glee upon learning that Duhg isn’t all he’s cracked up to be. LC smiles shyly and… oh dear. Is she feeling “that feeling” again? (i.e., burning in her loins for one certain Prince of Malibu?) Broday confirms it by suggesting they perhaps talk about getting naked. Well, if that’s not the least creative way of proposing sex… then I guess I’ve never banged this Bro.

“And perhaps then we can move on to vaginal penetration.”

After a short word from our sponsors, my gorgeous city comes back into view as Whitney waits in the lobby of the SoHo Grand for her coworkers and Cutie P. Lankster. He greets her with a stiff hug’n'kiss and immediately asks, “So, did you book me?” First of all, very classy. Secondly, ummm, exactly what do you think this TV appearance is? Anyway, he wonders if Kelly C-Face is this brazen with every beefcake around, but Whitney assures him that no, “She just eyed you and knew that….” Umm, that you wanted to wrap your legs around him and thrust? “…. that you were special.” Huh. Sure, that’s what I call it too. Special.

Gold medalist of the Special Olympics

Just then, Cutthroat rings Whit to let her know that, actually, nobody else is coming. Tricked you into a date! Ha ha! Kelly and all the other PR chicks are probably at a bar across the street, drinking vermouth and having a good cackle over this one. I love her more than ever. Way to throw blondiedog a bone.

C.P. Lankster chats about how, at USC, he didn’t know what he wanted to do with himself, so he transferred to Columbia. Where… he learned how to walk? I don’t get it, but something tells me it’s not important. He asks Doe-Eyed Dear if she wants to take a walk.

“I know this great little place around the block… called…. my apartment!”

At Steph’s Pratt-infested apartment, she’s chosen this evening to test out her “slutty grandma” look.

“I’m glad you’re here… I’ve just made some stripper cookies!”

LC hops in cheerfully and compliments her décor. Sure, she did a great job choosing art posters from Ikea and not painting the walls. Steph invites her to sit on the couch, then mentions that this is the same couch Spencey-Poo slept on during “The Great Break of ’08.”

“Uh oh, does that mean I’ll get The Herp?”

Lauren continues to tell everyone in L.A. that she’s about to dump Duhg, just so that he’ll feel extra humiliated when the time comes to read it in InTouch Weekly. This must be the only purpose of this segment of the program, as they spend the rest of the section talking about how Steph should have “high school-style kickbacks” at her place (which sounds just about right in the mental devolution department) and discussing the biological differences between hamsters and guinea pigs. As Stephanie theorizes, “She used to be a hamster. But now she’s a guinea pig.”

“Ummm… did you have to have sex with someone to graduate high school?”

Back in NYC, the most attractive couple since… well, Duhg and LC are strolling along, comparing coasts. Alex (oh yeah, he has a name, by the way.) is actually pretty well-spoken, despite his overwhelming Cali dude-ness. As they arrive back at her hotel, they share a more awkward goodbye than any I’ve seen on reality TV (but not real life… I actually kissed a guy’s eyebrow by accident once). They both look wide-eyed, expectant with the hope of sex, but alas, all that comes out of it is an odd half-cheek-kiss, half-hug, half (okay, one-third) handshake. Maybe this is the same deal as the Paris trip, when LC was kind of just set up with some Frenchie for our entertainment. Even if that’s true, I don’t care, the way this date came about was the most interesting thing that’s happened on “The Hills” since Blahdrina and Pigpen’s Dumpster dumping.

“Soooo…. bet you’ve got HBO up there?”

WhatEVER, Whitney. If you hang out with a perfectly nice, handsome dude like that and you don’t bang him, there’s something wrong with you. OR you already have a boyfriend, but he’s too classy to be subjected to this kind of public humiliation. (Hmmmm….) Anyway, we return to PR, where Whit is catching LC up on her rendezvous that went “like, total date-style!” When LC asks if she likes him, Whit makes the 10,000th awkward face of the night. Sigh. When will these girls learn that reality starlets can’t be choosers? Heidi’s already accepted that fate.

Whit asks if she’s broken up with Duhg, to which LC totally does not respond, “No, I’ve just told everyone else on earth that I don’t wanna do him anymore.” She wraps up by philosophizing, “I’ve just waited too long to settle, you know?” Too long? What, 22 years? Honey. HONEY. I’m 27 and I feel like I’ve just started!

And that’s why NYC girls end up being 47-year-old, unmarried sluts.

At the Aryan Compound, Spencer pretends to be reading.

“It counts if I just hold it up in front of me, right?”

He doesn’t even look up from his iPhone when Stephanie knocks, then lets herself in. He berates her for entering without his command. She announces that she’s brought him a gift (even though it was just HER birthday, not his) but he chooses instead to continue perusing his dirty texts and iGames. Finally, he opens one of the gifts and it’s… it’s… The Secret History of the CIA! OhpleaseOhpleaseOhplease make him open the other one. What could it possibly be?

The NOC List from “Mission: Impossible”?

Stephanie is delighted by his hesitant delight, and boy she looks like a cleaned-up, Daddy-managed Britney today.

“Daggone it, let’s go get me my babies!”

But the glee only lasts so long, with Spencer continuing his hatred of her, blah blah blah, at least it gives Steph a good excuse to practice her drama look. She’s almost got the, “Oh dear… I fear everything has suddenly gone terribly, terribly wrong!” thing down pat.

Whatev’s. Let’s get to breakin’ up. LC drives her identical-to-Spencer’s car up to Duhg’s gorgeous hillside estate, outside of which he’s parked his compensational penis-shaped car. The dear boy has just sat down to a power lunch of pasta primavera when LC delivers the bad news: “It’s just not there.” He gives a nice “wha-wha-wha????” face of shock. He suddenly sprouts a pair of balls and gets a little pissed at her for leading him on… or whatever. He was never promoted from “L.C.’s Friend” so his argument really has no foundation. He insists that he always tried to treat her like a princess… in which case maybe he should be barking up Heidi’s tree. Duhg sighs that she’s just so totally different from every other girl he’s met, which is the part where I do the “wha-wha-wha????” face. How is she different from anyone? Who’s he been dating, Eskimo empresses?

After about four minutes of semi-rigid back-and-forthing, he accepts the breakup – with one condition.

“We still get to bone, right?”

But of course, on her way out, LC keeps making the “icky” face. This episode wasn’t bad, but only because it was saved by the sheer batty brilliance of Kelly Cutrone. I’m not sure what all of these girls’ fucking problem is with sweet, hot young men who actually like them. What, do they expect their fellas to also be smart, funny and interesting? Jigga please. Or do they really all just want assholes like Spencer? Because that is, I hate to admit it, the only “relationship” that’s actually “lasted” on this “show.”

In conclusion… I now give you: Ode To The Icky Face. See you on the boards, bitches.