Penelope makes fun of them for being has-beens, and B ripostes: "Clearly, standards have slipped if you're a member here. To whom should I speak to have you removed, once we get our keys?" Penelope points at portrait of her patrician great-aunt: "The wall?" Serena addresses the wall, having confused Hamilton House for Hogwarts once again. "Ah. Nepotism. That explains it. Now if you don't mind, would you direct us to the Keymaster and then get me some cashews?"
At first they think those two bitches that conned B into attending Columbia in the first place are the Keymasters, which B thinks is divine providence, but then Juliet rises from the depths of a tan-leather club chair like it's a fucking grave. S is nervous but B's excited because networking, like all social interaction, is something she's always thought she'd be good at.
Juliet pretends she hasn't met Serena, which is bold. You should never do that unless you're sure you'll get away with it. Like in this case where nobody has ever heard of you and you're pretending to be rich and yet somehow your time machine has made you part of this intensely private club, you don't rock the boat. Especially when it's Serena, whom: Recently they polled all the people on all the continents throughout history and it was 1) Mickey Mouse, 2) Hitler, 3) Serena van der Woodsen's breasts.
Serena immediately hates Juliet, which is nice to see, because do not ever let anybody pull that shit on you. Then Juliet looks down into the Tiffany bag where all the keys are chilling, and mumbles about how it's rough when BFFs show up together, because guess what: Only one key left. B is immediately crestfallen because she's seen this show, she knows how it works, but then what? Blair Waldorf gets the key. Even Serena, whose entire personality is about making sure B doesn't go ballistic when she wins everything, is a little pissed about this. Also nice to see. Right then, GG kicks it up a fucking notch.
"Sorry for the silent treatment, gossips! But everyone needs the occasional R&R, even yours truly. Lucky for you, I observed a sacred Upper East Side tradition, and had a little work done while I was gone. Now enough with the pleasantries. Time for the dirt."
Nate goes tearing through his man-purse, all the Hamhocks grab their phoneses, Eric's just striding about looking for a right on the streets of the city, it's a blast for everyone, while a Hot Chip song about paranoia laughs at all of them. GG has added one million things to her site including a Maps thing that tells you where the people are (think Gawker Stalker, except it actually works), a Video thing that streams videos, a polling feature, a little HTML5 Perez thing that lets you draw crude penises pointing at Dan Humphrey's chin, the whole thing.