What I find amusing about this particular break up — or, really, about her life since she left New York — is the need for Julia Allison to introduce an endless parade of heretofore previously unmentioned or barely mentioned characters into the current season’s storyline of our insane reality show. Take What’s Her Couch, for instance, you know, the gullible sap who appeared out of the blue to let Julia essentially move in for weeks on end because our successful business-donkey was too cheap to just stay in a hotel like a normal adult. Or consider the extras who appeared at Pancakes’ holiday debut, those nameless seat-fillers Julia used to impress a Senator’s progeny during New Year’s Eve. Or what about those ego-boosters who crossed state lines to attend birthcray? Or, more recently, we now have Dr. Hugo Strange He’s Never Been Mentioned Before.
Julia’s life is now like “Saved by the Bell: The New Class,” where the original cast of characters graduated (or more accurately, ran for the hills), and the halls of Bayside High were repopulated with painfully uninteresting replacements. We no longer have the Van Veens and the Karps, the Sklarges and the CaroBears. No Ashas, or Billows, or Berkhow-Straunchs. Instead we are left with a cast of nobodies who appeared out of thin air, despite the fact that Julia pretends that all these faceless characters have been her dearest friends since time immemorial.
Funny how these dozens of unremarkable characters never figured into the storyline when Julia was reaching her media empress highs, but are now crucial to the plot as Julia is continually discovering newer and deeper lows. I find it quite sad that these people allow Julia to use them in this manner. They are merely props to mask the fact that Julia’s life is a complete and empty failure, devoid of the people of arguable influence that Julia tried desperately to keep in her egomaniacal orbit.
And now we have been introduced to another character: Christine Something-Or-Another, the mysterious figure who Julia dragged north to the ashram while the rest of New York headed east to The Hamptons for cocktails and brunches and beaches. This poor girl. Instead of having a normal Memorial Day weekend, she had a weekend spent drinking flavorless vegetable broth and contorting her body into unnatural positions.
And wouldn’t you know it? This Christine Something-Or-Another hates it up there!
Chat with my ashram roomie (& friend from NY), Christine
Me: Hey – time for evening satsang!*
Christine: Um … I’m going to skip it.
Me: You haven’t done anything the entire weekend!
Christine: I did 30 minutes of meditation yesterday morning.
Me: That doesn’t count.
Christine: I ate every meal. That counts!
Me: You’re an ashram deadbeat!
Christine: I’m doing stuff! Just not ashram stuff.
*satsung – meditation & chanting (lasts about 2 hours)
Meanwhile, Donkey is so god damn dense that she doesn’t get that her friend is miserable. She’s too focused on tapping into her inner Elizabeth Gilbert, which (fun fact!) is buried deep inside her asshole, that she can’t even clue into the fact that this mini craycation isn’t the slightest bit of fun for her ashram accomplice. Because who gives a fuck if Julia Allison’s friend isn’t enjoying herself? She just supposed to be a prop, a flimsy set piece that masks the fact that Julia Allison is utterly alone.