I get a kick out of Princess Stephanie. In addition to having her own perfume and an aborted international music career (although she does have one of the top-selling singles of all time in France), she also once took her kids and ran off with an elephant trainer and basically lived in his circus van or whatever. So put her on my list of people who’d be good company in a stalled elevator — you know she has some really good stories.
She may also be experiencing some kind of amnesia in which she thinks she is still WITH said circus:
I don’t know what her act is. Knife-throwing? Beer-stacking? Wench-tossing? It’s funny, Princess Stephanie seems to be Princess Prisoner’s opposite number. Poor old Charlene is just trying to stay lightly gilded and otherwise totally neutral and inoffensive until she can get Katie Holmes’ contact information and hire her as an escape consultant; conversely, Stephanie is as burnished as an antique table, and popping by fundraisers dressed as Cruella de Vil’s personal barmaid. Which strangely makes me even MORE hopeful for that stuck elevator.