Act Thirteen, in which The Imaginary Socialite and The Sister Goddess leave a very fancy party that wasn’t supposed to be.
TSG: You didn’t tell me it was going to be like that.
Imaginary Socialite: I didn’t know.
TSG: “Do you want to borrow my Louboutins?”
Imaginary Socialite: I told you, I didn’t know. And anyway, I love my jellies from Duane Read.
TSG: They were actually pretty chic… Her apartment is so massive! And she doesn’t have a job?
Imaginary Socialite: No. She paints sometimes. And watches Dawsons reruns.
TSG: I’m so jealous. My inheritance is just big enough so that I don’t have to work. But my apartment is tiny!
Imaginary Socialite: And on the edge of the Park…
TSG: It doesn’t matter, I barely have a bedroom.
Imaginary Socialite: Right. Well, meanwhile, I actually have to work…
TSG: Yes, but you’re so good at it!
[EVANNA LYNCH - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]
by actually having to work, you mean twittering away at an insanely easy and fun fashion job right? While the actual normal people are drudging away, nice try.
Alas, I didn’t inherit my job, I applied for it. Perhaps office chairs should be inserted in the will, like fine china?
Your razor-sharp wit is covetable.
Hey, remember when there used to be an imaginary socialite? Did she disappear?