hello. my name is nicole. and it's been 36 hours since my last hit of gossip girl.
i. am. addicted?
step one is admitting you have a problem. i am, clearly not ready to do that. what i am ready for, however, is admitting that i share the taste of 2.24 million teenage girls across the nation. but, hey, that's not really news.
GG justifications i've used in the past:
1. "you know how i am with series premieres." if i catch the first episode, i'm in it for the long haul. call it a strong work ethic, my sticktoittiveness, or my sheer stubbornness (i will not let mediocre television get the best of me!)
2. "it just doesn't understand Camp." a smart lady once said, "Pure Camp is always naive. Camp which knows itself to be Camp is usually less satisfying." i once replied, "ain't that the motherfucking truth." the monday night bitchery that is GG may succeed in it's over the topness, but if i want 'wink wink nudge nudge' irony i'll go hang out bedford ave. GG never rises above being "less satisfying" than the Grande Dame of all naive teen programming: Beverly Hills 90210 (1.0, thank you very much). now that was a show completely oblivious of its PSA-style transgressions. in one decade they managed to burn, mug, rape, kidnap, shoot, induce amnesia and miscarriage, cult up and coke up a single cast member. all with a happy moral at the end of each story arc. sorry to say, there isn't enough lavender in chuck bass' wardrobe to compete with that theatre of the absurd.
which brings me to my next point...
3. "they're just stringing me along with all that HoYAY!" chuck, patron saint of bad deeds and dandies, needs to lay off the purple. and the exchange of bedroom eyes with his bestie, nate. unless he means it. and he always means it. you wanna know why? well, because he's chuck bass.
observe:
martini's at a pool party? chuck's trying to make a statement and it's not "i'm a suburban wife with 2 toddlers." also, i'm pretty sure "casual touch" ranks high in some 'girls guide to snagging her guy' manual. smooth move, nate.
when i was a little girl, i thought prince charming would come and whisk me away from all of my worldly troubles. seems chuck's had the same fantasy. note: nate's "i can't deal with you when you get like this. can we talk when we get home later?" look. (to non-viewers: they do, indeed, live in domestic bliss. though i'm sure CW execs would call it a "totally male heterosexual city dwelling.")
there is something queer about this scene. ahem, sartorially speaking. red pants, green socks, purple ascot! it's all a bit...off. this unsettling feeling, of course, has nothing to do with, say, chuck's seductive pose or nate's crotchward gaze. no, noo! not at all...
"you say something. he turns and flashes a coy smile in another direction, looking like he's contemplating something big. there's a pause. your eyes meet and, before you know it, you're being drawn in for the big moment, like you were some twinkling star in his orbit. will your world's collide? you should slow down, put a hand out to stop you from your fall. but now that hand is there and grasping. 'this purple suit's gonna get wrinkled,' you think, surprised at how little you actually care."
and with that, i just became nate's favorite erotic fiction writer.
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