Perhaps I should join the Junior League, yes?

Office has been so strange this week. We've had a new recruiter start, and we've had several visitors from some of our satellite offices visiting, so everyone has been on their absolute best behavior. Which is...odd. It's not like I work with a bunch of ogres, but there is always some drama going on. Usually the various assistants are at each other's throats, and the two people in the office who have constant, illegal, monkey sex are angry at each other for one reason or another. Or perhaps it's to throw off any suspicion. Who can say? But in any case, it's been interesting to see all the smiles plastered on the faces around the conference table at our Wednesday meeting, where usually there is abject boredom or open hostility.
The new recruiter, with whom I am now sharing office space, is very nice, very cute, very Junior League. I took her to lunch today and picked her brain about her recent wedding and her recently purchased home, both subjects of which are like porn to me. I am always amazed when young professionals in this town are able to both pay for their own wedding and buy their own homes (both of which she and her husband did, just months apart). Every wedding venue here is ridiculously expensive (the Peanut and I just got a price from the winery where we were thinking of having our not-yet-official wedding, and I almost died), and the median house price in Santa Barbara just reached $1.1 million. How do people do it?? Our combined household income is just fine, thankyaverymuch, but we can't even think of buying a home right now. It really is incredibly unfair. It is also unfair that we rent from a total and complete fascist. No pets, no plants on the balcony, no BBQ, no smoking. Total. Fucking. Fascist. There are positives, of course. We live really close to the beach and have ocean views from every room. It's fairly spacious, in a nice neighborhood, and it's not too expensive. But no plants??? Ugh.
And as a poetic end to the entry, I can now hear my assistant and the receptionist arguing. As though they were two, and in a fucking sandbox. Finally, things are back to normal.