It’s that time again in New York when the trees rise stark and bleak against the backdrop of a sky that’s the color of a worn out grey tee, when you can see your breath leaving your mouth in a faded frosty cloud if you burst into laugher while standing on the street in the moonlight. It’s the time of year when I keep reminding myself that it might be very nice to invest in some footwear appropriate for the tundra and when everything I put on for work in the morning involves black tights that are designed to keep me from freezing my entire ass right off.
Yes, it is that time – or at least it’s supposed to be. I think maybe Mother Nature didn’t get the message, or perhaps she’s going through a tumultuous breakup and simply doesn’t have either the gumption or the energy to rain flakes of fluffy snow down from her expansive sky. There’s always a chance that she’s trying to ward off her own heady and chronic case of seasonal affective disorder and that’s why the trees here still have some stubborn leaves clinging to them. It could also be why I walked around all weekend in just jeans and a long sleeved tee and no jacket and I didn’t shiver even once. The brand new coat I bought that reminds me of the one Penny Lane wore in Almost Famous is still residing full-time in my closet. There has been absolutely no need yet to adorn myself with anything that once grew off of a faux sheep. The shovel that was worth every penny I paid for it last November stands patiently on my back deck. Last year it was frozen solid into a block of ice that remained until mid-April. I think it knows that it will eventually be called to action, but for now it’s reclining in peace and enjoying the sixty-degree balmy weather of an east coast December.
I’m quite sure that anyone who is not currently running for office would agree that what’s going on here is far more about the impact of global warming than Mother Nature dealing with the residual scalding bitterness of finding out that Father Time has been banging his mistress somewhere along the equator. It’s truly f*cked up that I flung my windows open yesterday to enjoy the nice crisp breeze, that I’m not really sure where my gloves are or if I even have both of them anymore, and that every day the weatherman crows that we have just neared another record high temperature. But what I think we all must accept is that the weather patterns we’ve come to rely upon have shifted; that which we have come to understand and expect is no longer relevant. And if something like the weather can change so radically, maybe people can change too! Maybe Jax and James and Kristen and the thing called Lala can surprise us all by exhibiting character traits they’ve never shown before! Maybe some of those traits will be positive! Maybe these people are actually human!
It is with this new belief in the capacity for human growth that I entered into this episode of Vanderpump Rules, hopeful that all of our little Pumpers would shed their hardened and scaly skins that are mostly made up of desperation and narcissism and start showing off the smooth baby skin that glows even if a camera is not aimed directly at them. And my optimism soared as the opening scene at Vanderpump Manor showed Lisa and Ken happily agreeing to host a dinner for some academically gifted teenagers who live in homeless shelters who have never had the opportunity to eat a meal in a nice restaurant. The woman who runs the charity is lovely and she’s smart and Lisa responds easily to the request. She is legitimately excited to give these kids a special experience and Ken agrees with her entirely, as does the dog wearing pajamas he is cradling in his arms. Honestly though, that Lisa would exhibit philanthropic tendencies is not even a little bit surprising. She has long been a vocal advocate for the LGBT community and she single handedly operated the Brandi Glanville is Not a Useless Piece of Goat Sh*t organization for a couple of years before throwing up her finely manicured hands and disbanding that charitable endeavor on the grounds that it turned out that Brandi Glanville is in fact simply a useless piece of goat sh*t. Still, Lisa tried – and she vows to make sure that her work for this organization goes off flawlessly.