Anyway, Tanya Donnelly has a wee elfin college tour coming up, I guess to remind people that Lovesongs For Underdogs (Fuckin' 1997!!! Not a lie! I am truthin'!) wasn't the last thing that happened to her. Vanessa asks what D and Little J think about Rufus going on another tour without even seeing them yet, and Rufus of course doesn't care about that. He wants to know if Vanessa can wedge her beautiful ass even further into the DNA of this show by taking over the gallery coffee shop, because... suddenly the coffee shop, which doesn't even fucking exist yet, is his only responsibility. Besides his kids, of course, who are none such. What is it about Brooklyn that makes parents act like children and children act like know-it-all parents? I need all the kids over here on this side of the room, and all the grownups on the other side of the room, and then we're going to watch a short film on the subject of pulling it together. But disapproving or not, Vanessa is of course available, since -- and take a strong sip of this steaming cup of Abrams Blend bullshit right here -- she's homeschooled anyway.
I hate Vanessa Abrams so much that I am kind of in love with her. Of course she's homeschooled. And not even in a nature/nurture way where it explains her lack of social skills, but in that she would make this choice because she is pretentious and living her retarded dream of running away from Vermont into the loving punk rock lesbian arms of her stupid van-owning sister and homeschooling herself and making her film dreams a reality. When in real life her forty-year-old boyfriend would spend her entire Ramen budget on smack within a week and she'd end up running to Vermont screaming bloody murder. And the way they're acting, said Ramen-scuttling boyfriend could very well be Rufus Humphrey, which might well literally kill Dan, so you know, carry on, because that's what we call a win/win/win. Rufus admits that he's not done running around like a heathen, she commends him on his shit-headed honesty while strongly implying that he is being an asshole, which he is but two wrongs don't make a right, and then says she'd be happy to cover his ass. Just like his other two kids.
Serena steers Blair -- which, given their relative sizes, can't be too hard; she could just pick the bitch up and carry her, honestly -- toward the Duchess so that B can apologize. Serena will not take no for an answer, although a few seconds later she's rethinking: "Duchess? I am so sorry about what I said, about the Botox. Your work is flawless." Serena finds this hilariously awkward, but the Duchess is not impressed. Blair takes a few more bouncy steps into the Death Zone. "Look, I know you're here with Chuck, and I can only imagine what he's said about me -- limo sex, social torture of freshmen, blackmail -- but I assure you, there is an explanation for all of it." So, so awesome. So of course the Big D is like, "Save it, he didn't tell me anything, but you just did." Blair's cutely, momentarily touched that Chuck didn't spill to the Duchess, but Serena's one step ahead: "Wait. He didn't?" Didn't need to. "None of it makes any difference to me," she says, and B -- who for the purposes of this scene seems to have borrowed Little J's brain damage, honestly -- smiles some more but then is hurt by the independent clause that follows: "Nothing will change the fact that despite your best efforts -- which are completely transparent, by the way -- Marcus is never going to end up with a lowly Waldorf." Who talks like this?