Just Enough for The City

I have to admit I kind of sort of like The City , the Gotham-based spinoff of MTV's The Hills starring The Times-dubbed Shakespearian mute Whitney Port, Lauren Conrad's yes-man in crime former co-worker at Teen Vogue , despite its lackluster series premiere ratings. Now a DVF girl (so jealous, always loved Ms. VF's fabulous Warhol portrait, not to mention Ms. VF's signature wrap dress, possibly the only article of clothing in existence to flatter every female figure), Whitney works in PR with the poor man, or rather rich man's Blair Waldorf, one Olivia Palermo, once fierce rival to my favorite socialite of all-time (Paris who?) the one and only Ms. Tinsley Mortimer. (Nice ringlets, Olivia. Wonder where you got them from, anyway?) Pettiness aside (yeah right), I can't wait to see what The City brings to Whitney.

Shakespearian mute or not, as the underrated and underused Hills cast member, I can't help but root for her but I hope she starts to make better decisions. First, as I learned my freshman year of college, never date a guy who has better eyebrows than you (and/or has two first names as names- a line I picked up from Can't Hardly Wait but oh so true), or in this case has either a). prettier pictures than you in the form of a modeling portfolio (that Alex dude that Kelly Cutrone- HBIC of the fashion world- introduced her to) or b). better hair than Uncle Jesse and worse yet---wait for it--c). once dated Tara "Terror" Reid (as revealed by the better of two Hiltons, Mr. Perez). Wait, what?!!! Forget everything I just said. Two words: Terror Reid. Run for The Hills !!! Hell, even Justin Bobby is better than this bag of douche comparatively speaking.

Second, I really hope Whitney stays as far away from Olivia as the parameters of their fake (or not, whatever it's fabulous) DVF offices will allow. You can smell the manipulation a-brewin' a mile away, far worse than the swamp foot smell of the subways in the dead of summer. Yes, I really did just go there. As well-mannered as Tinsley with a T denied with the ever faux grace of a New York society queen, I think there's a true story behind the elbowing rumor from '05. Bitch got served! Besides, Palermo's scheming cousin Nevan could never touch my love, Chuck Bass. Sorry, Nevan. I'd rather hang out with "the downtown crowd" doing lines off tables in dirty hipster bars on Ludlow St. than...doing lines off tables at some lame society gala at The Met. Wait, maybe the "socials" aren't so different from "the downtown crowd" after all? On second thought, I'd rather burn my inheritance check Into the Wild-style than find out. Okay, So. Not. True. But at least I can awkward white-girl dance to "Love Will Tear Us Apart" on repeat versus sit and stare at the "Philharmonic" or the most famous paintings in the world-class museums uptown...or something equally dull, no absolutely amazing and culturally significant. D'oh. I really can't find a reason to rag on the UES other than for fame-whoring "social" starlets elbowing (or being elbowed, natch) their way to be "a brand". Namely Olivia. I know my logic is skewed as I somehow tolerate and even bask in the smallest sliver of good press for the Tins. I know she's so 2005 but the ringlets are adorable! On her!

Anyyyyyway, I salute Whitney in her quest to take on the Big Apple. If you can make it there, you'll make it anywhere, right? (Though my reverse move from NY to LA has proven to be its own "development hell" in more ways than puns can cover, I can't blame a bitch for running from The Hills .) I just might join her one of these days...but I'm starting to feel the rain on my skin, Natasha, and it's not as bad as it first seemed. Happy New Year to all, even you Mute.