Confessions of a Sociopathic Social Climber Page #2

You're making a difference|in a child's life.

What do I have to do|to get the write-off?

PS:
That Aunt Jemima thing|out. Kapish?

'I'm always dressed|in head-to-toe designer...

prefer platinum|to white gold...

and frequent all the best|restaurants in San Francisco.'

Katya, the child lives|in a dung hut.

I know! And he lists his|favorite hobby as 'eating'.

So we already|have so much in common!

Listen, I'm happy to help|with your personal stuff...

but I also really want to help|you on your campaign, please.

Dookie...

You've already got so much on|your plate it makes me tired.

Anyhow, I think I'm going|to take a ciggie break...

while you finish up|my 'to do' list.

I thought you were quitting?

It's not lit.

But don't tell anyone. I don't|want to miss out on the break.

Speaking of, time's up.|You coming?

I'm not finished.

Je ne sais quoi, check.

I didn't know what size you wanted,|so I got you the super pack.

Do I know you?

Good afternoon.

Gas chamber|or lethal injection?

I am on a break.

I'm sorry.

Next up, Melissa Rivers|on In the Know.

Watch out San Francisco! You have|no ideal what's coming your way...

Socialite sisters|Dove and Fawn Greenstein...

well,|they sent out these keys.

Invitations to the Royal Ball, the|biggest party to hit this city, ever.

Anyone who is anyone is gonna be here|benefitting Youth Aid International.

It's going to be|the most exclusive party...

more exclusive|than Oprah's fiftieth...

more decadent than|Puffy's White Party!

And this key, this will|open the front door...

Where's my key?

to Covington Castle.

,Had to call best friends|Ferguson and Frangipani.

Meet me at 17th and Market|Street! It's an emergency!

Maybe it's in the mail...

You're right.|I have to be invited.

You're definitely invited.

Teddy, why is it|so freezing in here?

You should've|dressed accordingly.

-It's June!|-Come on, it's called Igloo.

-There's two more ice-tinis.|-I mean why wouldn't I be invited?

Will you stop! You're|definitely invited, okay.

And in case you're wondering...

I think that I'm in love.

Okay, I'll bite,|who is he?

Hans.

I told you not to mix|business with pleasure.

Please. Office romances|are tr?s common, sweetie.

You are an escort, darling.|Not an insurance salesman.

Okay, whatever...

Sorry I'm late. I was|speed dating for a billionaire.

You just got divorced from your|fourth husband three weeks ago.

But I'm so lonely.|I hate being single.

I don't know how|you two do it.

So, what's the emergency?

The Royal Ball!

Will you tell her that|she's invited, please?

Of course she's not invited.|Dove Greenstein hates you.

She does not hate me!|Fergie, does she hate me?

No, she... Well...

you tried to sleep with her ex-husband|before he was an ex...

That was months ago.|People move on.

I did not sleep with him|he was up my dress.

I've been meaning to ask you to read|this novel I've been working on.

Hello?|In the middle of a crisis here.

-I don't want to bug you.|-You already are.

It would mean a lot of me if you|would read it and give me some notes.

And the grant deadline's|in two weeks...

and twenty-five thousand|dollars is a lot of money.

Twenty five thousand dollars?|What do I get out of it?

What do you mean?

I mean how long|do we all get free drinks?

You know what, they've been|really cracking down on us...

make it 3 month and you've got a|deal. Drop this off at my office.

Next round...

Why me?

Because you're too charitable|for your own good, that's why.

Now see, why don't you do|tell that to Dove Greenstein?

Don't worry. These socialite|soirees are so overrated.

That's an invite|to the Royal Ball!

I was just trying|to make you feel better.

How could you think that I was going|to miss the party of the century?

-Anyone who's anyone will be there.|-Well, except for her.

I'm kidding. Who cares about|the stupid party, anyway?

I do.

That invite better be|in my mail at work.

If it's not,|my life is over.

I'll be banished|to social Siberia.

Too bad you burned your Uggs.

-You're really overreacting here.|-No I am not.

Take it from someone in advertising.|Image is everything.

Katya, your Dr. Boll's|presentation has been moved up...

to nine a.m. tomorrow|morning. Don't be late.

Work. What an|unpleasant interruption.

Especially after spending|entire evening building a buzz.

Which reminds me|drinks at Igloo: free.

Thanks to agreement|with bartender.

Initial contribution towards|adopted child: 79 cents...

new La Perla thong:|ninety dollars...

soiled current one after running into|man of my dreams on smoke break.

,Have yet to learn his name, but|will refer to him as 'Thor'...

because of Viking|good looks...

Am anticipating many expenses|for upcoming Royal Ball.

Can't believe Ferguson and Frangipani|think it's okay not to go.

But what else should I expect from a|musical theater queen male escort...

or my Korean ex-nail tech|turned-black widow billionairess?

Only fourteen days|'til the ball.

Must be brilliant, as have several|reasons to get to work before noon.

Dr. Bolls...

Dr. Bole's...|they're heaven for your soles.

You were great.|You make...

What happened to Nemo|and the bosses fish?

What does it look like?

Poor Lyle,|I mean Mr. Cosgrove...

He's really upset.

We're going to send|them for an autopsy.

So, obviously you got|my message last night.

After last call. I stayed up all|night working on my presentation.

I'm going to go in there and|talk to my very pleased boss.

I'm allergic to feathers.

Could you hold this?

To the fish.

Lyle, I just heard...

but come on, why the long|face? We just had a home run.

You were perfect, as always,|my little angel.

So, the good news is Rice-A-Roni|is looking for a new image...

they're going to need a new|advertising agency.

Now I've already given|the market research...

and all the product lines|to Sebastian.

Hold on...|I want you to present.

-When?|-Next week.

Is that an invite|to the Royal Ball?

Yes, it is. I donate|to Youth Aid International.

So do I!

Well then I guess|I'll see you there.

I wouldn't miss it|for the world.

Good. Then that night we can|celebrate you landing Rice-A-Roni.

Whatever.|Sorry.

How did Lyle get tickets|to the ball and I didn't?

Because he's a six-figure|donor to Youth Aid.

So far, you've only|contributed seventy-nine cents.

I have an idea.

Why don't you volunteer with me.|We'd have so much fun.

Working the event is worse|than not going at all!

Goofball.

What are you doing?

I'm working.

I told you,|there's no time for that!

Go fetch me a nonfat latte|and a nicotine patch, pronto!

I have a very important|meeting in half an hour.

With a client?

He has clients...

After spending twelve dollars on|cab ride to house boat at Fisherman's...

and a buck ninety-nine|on Charles Shaw wine...

Was forced to descend on Ferguson|who's trying to kill himself again...

over another client|turned lover.

Fergie...

He's not here...

Ferguson!

Go away.

I'm coming in.

No, not again...

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