While waiting for my Tuscan Chicken sandwich at Subway this afternoon I stood in line behind one of those tall, blonde L.A. princesses. She had a $300 haircut and wore a ribbed cotton henley that probably ran her $125 on Robertson Blvd. She was constantly moving, shifting her weight from one impossibly long leg to the other as she gabbed to her less fashionable, less attractive friend. Every guy in the place had both eyes firmly fixed on her ass. Even I was a little bit mesmerized by it's Hollywood perfection. As I listened to her verbally vomit bimbo drivel all over the just-washed floors of the restaurant, it occured to me that her grating voice was a little too familiar. I watched the Mexican guys behind the counter assemble two six-inch subs and one footlong before realizing who she was.
Ever watch that MTV reality show "The Hills?" Well it was the girl from that show. Not the main girl with the internship at Teen Vogue, but her vapid blonde friend who quit school and got a job as an assistant to a club promoter but totally wanted to quit because she thought she would just be going to cool parties and stuff, but was shocked to find out she'd have to like, xerox shit and file. Mainly she just lay around the pool in front of the cameras at their apartment complex and went to clubs at night. I think her name is Heidi.
From the way they were speaking, I deduced that the less attractive friend was actually Heidi's less attractive roommate.
Heidi: We're not gonna eat these here, right?
Friend: I don't know.
Heidi: No, we'll take them back to the house. Then we can watch Sex and the City, right?
Friend: Sounds good.
Heidi: So I got invited to Fergie's record release party. It's tonight. But I'm really just like, not in the mood to get all cute and stuff, you know?
Heidi: I dunno. Maybe I'll get a pedicure later and see how I feel.
What a life.