B comes into the Bleecker as the truly odious Paul Hoffman is whining that even though Gaga's a Tisch alumna, she is ignoring his repulsive ass. My favorite thing about him, besides how wretched he is, is the fact that he is forty-two years of age. And not in a Scott Wolf way, like in a Proudly Forty-Two Years Old way. He likes to kick, and punch, and stretch! So B gets awkward and asks if they're discussing Lady Gaga, and Horrible Hoffman goes, "No, Blair. I'm talking about Gaga Ahmadinejad, First Lady of Iran." Kick him in the box. Kick his box out of his body. Do it now. Do it now, there's nobody stopping you. Just simpering Tisch kids, who in this version of reality look like Marketing majors and not the unbalanced homeless.
But because it's Blair and her will takes her places where her rudeness should not, manages to make even these dorks look socially savvy: "That's funny. You know who likes sarcasm? My stepfather, Cyrus Rose. Big-time entertainment lawyer?" Her face is totally indomitable and you can actually see wavy lines of force coming out of her forehead and just past his receding hairline and into his brain. So his father is somebody famous, some famous Hoffman I guess. Felicity, or Arianna. Neither of them are old enough, though. I don't actually care. I really don't care for Hideous Hoffman's Creepy Conspirator "Willa Weinstein," who is so gross I can't even talk about it.
Everybody laughs at Blair because their parents are actually in the industry and haven't been able to help, so whatever to her stepfather, and also could she stop being annoying and awful for like five seconds and just like be one with the fact that these people suck worse than all the other sucky people she's dealt with? Willa goes, "Fairytale theme is hard. Don't want to be trite..." for their Cabaret performances, because the thing that Blair suddenly needs more than life is to be invited to and involved in this Cabaret which Balding Paul is curating and shepherding and acting like a cuss about. Blair, of course, is all about fairytales, and Queens and princesses, and whatever, and of course the Cabaret, but no way. Hoffman makes sure the depth and breadth to which Blair is not invited to this thing are well delineated. College is kind of the worst sometimes.
"It's by invitation only. All the spots are filled by... Serious theater students," he hisses and weaves, and then they take off like The Secret History, all in a pretentious bunch, barely touching the ground and wearing no kidding business suits with ladylike hems and shit. Whereas in real life, there would be way more than two genders up in that club and all of their heads would be shaved into ironic brand names or whatever kids these days are up to. God, remember OK Cola? College is so fucking stupid!