This Is Not My Lauren Conrad

Goddamn the man who invented the weak headphone. Everything is subject to change, and yet some things will never change. I have once again destroyed another pair of headphones on my iPod, meaning that my life will go mute - yet again - until I can scrap together the cash for a set of new ones. I consider this inconvenience akin to being a heroin addict; sooner or later, you're whoring yourself in the Penn Station men's room just to rock out to The Clash.

Mother's Day has come and gone. I got my mom a card and a biography about Caesar Augustus - she and my step-dad are getting ready to hit-up Rome next week. When we spoke on Saturday, her present arrived in the mail and she started tearing up over the phone. Moments like these are usually when I find my way out of a conversation. In my old age, I've come to lose my love for two things: sentimentality and the work of Seth MacFarlane. My mom understands this, and knows that I mean no real offense by it. That all being said, she's still insists that the snarky nerd attitude isn't helping me get laid in New York.


But speaking of sextype things, the current cover of Rolling Stone is enough to get any repressed college sophomore hot and bothered: the cast of the reality TV show The Hills gallivanting around in their casual sleepwear. Heidi Montag teasingly twists her butt towards the camera on a three-quarter profile while wearing a look on her face that pretty much says "Fuck me because I'm famous." Until I read the article (mostly about the vaguely defined feud between Heidi and Lauren Conrad, the show's protagonist), I had no idea The Hills really existed. Let me clarify: you know how you can take a class all semester and know the people, but not until the last week do you notice the kinda cute, David Sedaris-crushing, lit chick in the back? Yeah, same story.


Two conclusions came to me after reading the article: Lauren Conrad and I could feasibly date each other, and America doesn't really seem to care about how unreal The Hills is. A few years ago, I remember Eric Idle talking in an interview about the cultural context of Monty Python. He pointed out that they felt no real need to make any sense because of world events: Vietnam, recession, spiking oil prices, disillusionment with the government. People didn't want to be reminded about how Western Civilization was tanking, they just wanted to be entertained. The Hills ingeniously plays on the same cultural sensibility. What better way to forget about a weak dollar than by watching four attractive socialites get upset over nothing? Does it matter that Lauren and Heidi hate each other for no reason? Not really. But America has chosen to make it matter - maybe because there's no real answer to the bigger problems right now. Whether it's Hilary Clinton's annoying sense of pluck, or President Bush's late-coming stabs at humanitarianism, America wants white noise and MTV has found its finger on the dial.

Despite the tabloids confirming on an almost daily basis that the ladies of The Hills lead double lives, I can't see such revelations raking in any Milli Vanilli-esqe controversy. The public's sentiment could be summed up as: "Look, we know it's more or less fake. But they're hot, and it's four dollars a gallon at the pump. Just leave it alone, and let us watch the damn show with the lights turned off and the sound muted."

In a country where generational optimism seems to wain, The Hills is MTV's highest-rated program. Could this possibly mean that, in the best case scenario, we'd rather get lost in someone else's dream life? My answer would be "Yes." I would argue that this country seems content enough in its own suffering, that it would rather stay in a daydream. But then, I think Lauren would call me out on that one, probably on our second date over drinks at Flatiron Lounge. It wouldn't be argument inducing, but a point that is important. We'd grab a cab back to her place at The W Hotel and share a kiss goodnight. The truth is it's Fashion Week. She's has to be up early and I've got a bunch of comedy sketches to finish writing. But we're going to try to hang out one more time before she goes back to L.A.