There are three types of interpersonal relationships: cool-cool, dorky-cool, and, well, let's face it, nobody cares about the last kind. If a dork falls in a forest, you can be pretty damn sure nobody give a sh*t because they were too busy sucking up to the cool types.

Like I'm about to do tomorrow!

But this social fractionation isn't just, as I've discovered, a defining characteristic of that revolting pre-collegiate era known as high school.

Oh no.

It exists in the real world too.

For example, cool-cool: People covering Vanity Fair's Oscar Party.

Dorky-cool: My trade publication trying to cover Vanity Fair's Oscar Party. Hell, even the senior writers of Vanity Fair don't get to go to the party, so far be it for them to benificently bestow their star-studded-evently coolness upon a second-tier trade publication such as ourselves. Another example would be my trade publication (me) trying to get MTV to give a f*cking interview. I was informed of my social status when the snobby PR rep said in a snobby PR rep voice, "We'll take a pass on that interview." Why? (I was feeling masochistic.) "We just don't want to go there." Yeah, well... whatEVER, MTV!! You -- hello? Hello?

B*stards!

Too bad for them. Hell hath no fury like a second-tier trade publication journalist scorned! Let me tell you! Good luck EVER trying to get published in our magazine ever again. Ever!

I mean, unless you want to.

Seriously, call me, we'll talk. I was totally kidding. You're awesome!

Well, thank god for Google, equilizer of all journalists and pulisher of unlisted phone numbers. I'm sure Sara Marks, director of special events for VF, hallowed be thy glorious & uber-cool name, will jump at the opportunity to be published in our magazine. Oh yeah. Looking forward to that conversation/dial tone.

The thing about high school is, you may graduate, but you never leave. At least if you're a snotty b*astard PR rep working for MTV.

It's not like you're doomed to remain in whatever social class high school arbitrarily assigned you to (the nuances of which were eloquently and convincingly explored in She's All That), but in a cultural environment that is dominated by the idolization of celebrity qua celebrity, it's just a whole new version of the same damn thing.

The thing is though, there's always somebody cooler. BizBash is cooler than my magazine. But! Vanity Fair is cooler than BizBash. Way cooler. But! ...There must be somebody cooler than Vanity Fair. Thinking... Ok, I'll get back to you on that. Suggestions welcome. As long as you don't needlessly disparage the publication I venerate and that will be sending me to Tuscany when I win its essay contest if I hadn't just jinxed myself by saying that.

Damn.