GG: "They say don't hate the player, hate the game. But when you invented the rules, losing really stings."
Okay, which actually is the other half of the problem. She didn't invent the rules. She was a hot mess, but it came as a surprise to her as much as anybody else. The time she took away the headbands from the minions was the first and last time she ever expended any effort on this stuff. I mean, Dark Phoenix was a nice dream, but... Serena's pressures, before Paris, were all external: Dan, boys, Dads, horses, boats. Carter Baizen. The pressure of being looked at and the shapes it bends you into, the skills we learn from that.
But now she's constantly forcing herself into this impossible shit by being unnaturally proactive, which just creates pointless dramz and makes her a nuisance for everybody else. When you think about how both of them are acting out-of-character (or really, I don't believe in that concept because what airs is canon, and Paris was like more than half of the episodes of this entire show ago, so this is even more of the status quo than S1 would be, crappily enough) it almost bookends itself. But not quite.
Dorota: "I knew nobody keep you in bed except Mr. Chuck, that's why I call him."
Can we just fast-forward this crap? Not every week, there's still eight weeks and I'm sure it'll have its great moments, but I can't with this right now. This is the actual conversation. It makes me feel like we are all assholes on this planet we call Earth. I hate absolutely everything about it. Every word and letter, every jot and tittle, every paradiddle and syllabub:
Chuck: "I would love to spend the day with you under the duvet, but you're exhausted. And I know from my brief stint as a candy stripper that an IV can be quite a hindrance. So how may I serve?"
Blair: "I can't pull you away from taking down Bart."
Chuck: "Well, my hands may be momentarily tied when it comes to my mission against my father. Task me, Blair."
Blair: "I can't. Tasks are for minions or Dan Humphrey."
Chuck: "On second thought, I know exactly what you need done. And I know exactly how you like it. No instructions necessary."
(He pulls out of cunnilingus as suddenly as he dove into it, bending it like Beckham back to the vertical, soaring up and away like a nosedive recovery, and disappears into the aether. Presumably to rape more people in a hospital, since apparently that's a hobby of his we didn't know about.)