"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in this neighborhood, would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won't you be my neighbor?" It's an idyllic scene of suburbia as the sound of lawnmowers fills the air. Parks department workers are cutting down tree branches and such. Carmela's silver luxury vehicle coasts down the street. An oncoming car honks; Carmela's car swerves into the grounds workers' trucks and screeches to a halt. AJ, not Carmela, gets out of the driver's seat as his various pubescent pals lean out of the windows and are all stupefied by the fact that AJ has managed to break off the right sideview mirror. This is not good. Ooh-ings and God-ings and what-did-you-freak-out-fors from the peanut gallery. "Shit," poor Pugsley manages to utter. He's in for a hidin', mark my words.
Sophisticated clubby music accompanies the New York City skyline. SoHo girls and Wall Street guys mix and mingle while sipping Blow-Pop-flavored flirtinis. Christopher and Adriana make their way through the club crowd. Adriana is wearing the latest in Destiny's Child designs: very naked, very purple, very gold fringe. Christopher's got his blood-red suit on that matches Adriana's nails. Christopher spots someone, calls him facha brutta (ugly face), and the recipient does that male bonding slapping-on-the-back-hug thing and calls him facha brutta back. "Adriana, this is my cousin Gregory, the ambulance chaser," Christopher announces. Nice to meet you, la di da, la la. Gregory introduces his fiancée, Amy, who's all Hollywood-industry suit-y with a voice lacquered in superficiality. "Pleasure, Christopher, to finally meet you in person. Greg is always giving me updates on his New York cousin." Adriana reminds her they're from Jersey. "My apologies, that's the red-eye talking. Your earrings are so excellent!" Okay, it took about four lines and I hate her. Wow. Consumed with loathing is what I am. She is so fake and condescending I could just puke. Kudos to Alicia Witt for graduating from Cybill and portraying a perfectly rancid character; let's hope she's not like this off-screen. Gracious Adriana thanks her for the compliment and asks how their flight was. Small talk for about a second, and a great big pause where everyone contemplates that they have nothing whatsoever in common and nothing to talk about all evening. The next table makes loud frat-party drinking-game noises. "Morgan Stanley's night out," says Greg the lump. Adriana tries again, God love her: "Christopher says you're shootin' a movie, that must be so interesting." Christopher looks at her as if to say "shut your cakehole." Jerk. "This is the first project I've brought in to Jon," says Amy, Queen of Name-Dropping. Adriana asks who "Jon" is, and Christopher impatiently tells her it's Jon Favreau; he's all I told you, Amy's head of his development. Adriana screeches, "You told me Tarantino!" Hee. Who's the stupid one now, Mr. Smartyman? "I worked for Quentin, he's still a friend," Amy adds. Oh my God, Miss First-Name Basis is really bugging me. Greg chimes in, saying Favreau snapped her right up. Well, goody for him -- he can have her. Adriana gets all excited. "That movie he did, Swingers? Vince Vaughn is so cute." Christopher gives her the hairy eyeball. "So, Christopher, how goes the screenplay?" Amy asks. "It's one of the best I've ever read," Adriana says, and Christopher gives her a hairier eyeball. Leave her alone. The Morgan Stanley drunkards bump into Amy, and she chuckles and checks her hair. Adriana asks what "he's like" in person. "Incredibly funny, smart, Jon's totally accessible. You guys should come visit the set." Adriana corrects her sheepishly. "No, I meant Vince Vaughn." Hee. "Great, great, a friend" business from Amy. This is why there needs to be gun control. I don't know what I'd do to this girl if I met her in real life. She also keeps opening her eyes and mouth very wide when she talks, like a fish.