rich girls, part II, and other TV commentary

Saturday evening, I finally caught a showing of MTV's "Rich Girls," previously discussed two posts below.
I wonder if personality traits, rather than a personality, can be bipolar. I've been hating people all week, but I couldn't bring myself to hate the Rich Girls; instead, I felt vaguely protective of them. Jamie and Ally aren't so bad, or, yes, they're vapid and self-involved, but that kind of stupidity is more indicative of age than economic privilege. And, also, yes, they turn my monthly paycheck into a single serving at Saks, but TV has long ago informed me that shopping is what teenage girls do instead of reading Marx; and I've always assumed some kind of hazy relationship between how much money one spends and how much money one has to spend. Also, my manic empathy should probably be medicated, because even Jaime's miniature dog -- named Star -- seemed excusable; Jaime's not so hot, and the best cure for that is standing near someone, or something, uglier.

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I've been very depressed lately. At times, it feels physical rather than emotional, like I've been bludgeoned, bat to head, and in recovery was IV-ed to a pitcher of Jack Daniels. And that's how I found myself watching the first half of Autumn in New York while in fetal position on my living room floor.
The film was, like, totally meta-discursive because, if I'd never seen the posters or trailer or known the title of the film, I never would have guessed Winona Ryder and Richard Gere's characters were dating or in love. The movie relies on your getting that information from its ads, and it's a nice time-saving device: Gere and Ryder don't have to have chemistry, say anything sincere, or kiss (Did Ryder put that in her contract?). They only have to occasionally appear in the same room, occasionally smile at each other, and you remember, oh yeah, they're, like, in love. Otherwise, when Gere cheats on Ryder and she's upset, you'd be like, what a bitch, begrudging an acquaintance a good lay.