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You know how they always say, "Spotted: Upper East Siders," in that hushed, dramatic tone? I tried doing that in real life. I walked into a Starbucks, pointed dramatically at a guy sipping a latte, and whispered, "Spotted: Midtown Caffeine Addict." The guy just looked at me like I was crazy and went back to Instagramming his latte art. And what's with the constant scheming and plotting on that show? If I tried half the things they do, I'd have a restraining order and a court date within the hour. It's like they went to the School of Bad Life Choices and graduated with honors.
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The big mystery of "Gossip Girl" was always, who is Gossip Girl? I had my theories. Maybe it's the doorman who sees everything but says nothing. Or the random guy at the hotdog stand who witnessed my stiletto catastrophe. But no, it turned out to be someone I least expected. I won't spoil it for you, but let's just say I felt betrayed, like finding out your favorite childhood toy is actually a spy for the neighbor's cat. And they reveal Gossip Girl's identity in a blog post? Really? I've been doing it wrong this whole time. I should've just written a blog about my life and waited for Hollywood to turn it into a scandalous TV show. "Spotted: Comedian Reveals Too Much on the Internet. XOXO, Gossip World.
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You guys ever watch "Gossip Girl"? I mean, come on, it's like a soap opera on steroids. Everyone's rich, everyone's glamorous, and apparently, everyone has a personal paparazzi following them around 24/7. I tried hiring a paparazzo once, but all I got were selfies with a confused barista in the background. And the mysterious Gossip Girl herself, or himself, or whatever... I mean, talk about a social media ninja. They know everyone's dirty little secrets, like they have some kind of PhD in stalking. My friends and I tried to start our own version, but all we got was an Excel sheet with embarrassing childhood stories. Not quite the same effect.
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Can we talk about the fashion on "Gossip Girl"? I mean, who wears stilettos to high school? I can barely walk in heels, and these kids are practically running marathons in them. I tried wearing stilettos once, tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, and ended up face-first in a hotdog stand. Sexy, right? And the outfits! Layers on layers on layers. It's like they raided a thrift store and just put everything on. If I tried that, I'd look like a walking laundry basket. Maybe I'm just jealous because my high school wardrobe consisted of jeans and whatever band T-shirt was clean that day.
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