I will give the children of NYC Prep this: they are very poised and “adult” on camera. High school students are, for the most part, sloppy spazz-attacks, flailing around all over the place with their hormones and their malformed identities and their terrible dreams (at one point last night, Taylor said, “My life plan is I’m going to take dance in college, and then I’m going to become a superstar”). But the children of NYC Prep are mostly like, “Oh no, last night I burned the French cuff of my tuxedo shirt on the edge of the samovar.” And when PC (or was it Jessie or was it Who Cares) says that kids in New York grow up faster, I am inclined to half believe it. They certainly gain more efficient social manipulation skills, and they can hide their gawky faces and awkward bodies with $500 haircuts and Marc Jacobs dresses (or in PC’s case, a personal trainer), but at the end of the day, children are children. And these are definitely children we are dealing with.
So, Camille wants to become part of Operation Smile in order to get into Harvard. She talks to PC, and PC is like “I will put you in touch with Jessie if you’re really serious about doing the work.” What? Every interaction PC has had in relation to Operation Smile on this show has been to mock Operation Smile as being an ineffective and misguided charity (an issue on which he may have a point), or to blow off Operation Smile work in order to shop for shirts, because as you may or may not know (you know) PC is “very picky about [his] shirts.” Also, we’re talking about a high school extra-curricular activity. Everyone needs to RELAX. Let Camille into your stupid club or I’ll write a mean note on your Facebook wall, Jessie, or whatever petty emotional crime children commit against each other these days.
Later, Camille meets Jessie at her apartment and they talk about Operation Smile and Jessie pretends like it’s important, but even more importantly, she pretends like she takes it really seriously. Right. Jessie is in charge of “fashion” for Operation Smile. HUH? That’s like saying “I’m in charge of candy for Doctors without Borders.” Jessie being in charge of “fashion” for Operation Smile makes her despotic regime over Operation Smile even more ridiculous. Which makes sense. BECAUSE THIS IS HIGH SCHOOL.
Admittedly, Camille makes a similarly high schoolian mistake when she tells Jessie that she heard that Jessie’s high school was really easy, unlike Camille’s high school, which is really hard. Yikes. For someone who claimed to be so nervous about the meeting, she was not very nervous when that bus pulled up (about throwing Jessie’s school under it). Dummy. And that reminds me that for as much as I dislike Jessie’s false air of self-importance and rehearsed haughtiness (“and then I slit my eyes like this, and spittle comes out of my mouth like this. Thanks, mirror”), I dislike Camille even more, with her unearned self-satisfaction and her two-dollar SAT words. I hope that she does get into Harvard. And I hope that she ends up having a fantastic career, and falling in love, and getting married, and having a family, and never confronting who she really is. Because that’s going to be TOUGH STUFF.
Meanwhile, Kelli wants to be a singer, and interviews voice coaches. Scraping the bottom of the barrel here, Bravo. (The barrel is filled with things that I could possibly care about.) Kelli has a pretty good voice, I guess. One of the voice coaches is kind of a weird nerd.
Also this lady.
The Gong Show: Upper East Side. Moving on.
Taylor wants to be a dancer. Her grades are suffering. She goes ice skating with Cole. Again, with the barrel and the scraping. These girls have never been able to find traction on this show because, well, they are 15 years old. The depth of disinterest I have for the lives of 15 year old girls is where the Aliens live.
Jessie has no-fat lattes with her mom, and they talk about Jessie’s dream of doing PR for a fashion designer (it’s like they always say: shoot for the middle, and you just might hit the bottom). Her mom tries to give her relatively sound advice, and she might even be the rarest of rarities of reality TV: a decent mom. But it is no matter. Their twin voices drill matching boreholes into my brain, and there they lay the eggs of nightmares.
The grating, insufferable Valley Girl voice never falls far from the grating, insufferable Valley Girl voice tree.
Poor PC. That is what this show should have been called. Can he catch a break? He cannot catch a break. When he’s not going to therapy and telling his therapist about how jaded he is with his hard-lived life of “sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” (eighth grade is when you learn how to drink, GRANDPA), then he is going to a photoshoot and complaining about manual labor (moving chairs from one side of the room to another side of the room), and avoiding flirting with women because he doesn’t want to be that guy who just flirts with women, but posing with other dudes with his shirt off because he does want to be that guy who just poses with other dudes with his shirt off (only an asshole would ever let a picture be taken of himself without his shirt on), and flirting with the gay stylist because he does want to be that guy who just flirts with the gay stylist. And the whole time this show winks and nods.
You’ve done it again, full grown adults who make this show.
And I’m not even going to write about Sebastian anymore. What a clown. Literally. Sideshow Bob head. He goes on a date with a senior and talks about how getting an older woman is a real badge of honor. Ugh. Relax, Cougar Town. This guy. But then it turns out that she also speaks French, and that’s a dealbreaker, ladies. Because speaking French is Sebastian’s Dumbo feather. But for pussy. Whatever. I cannot wait until this show ends and I no longer have to hear about where Sebastian lazily “thinks” his dick should go. Kids attempt to fuck constantly the darndest things.