Part 2 of Season 3, Episode 8: The Back Story - My back story? I'm very sleepy all of the time and slide into "uninspired" super easily which is why this one took decades (real time: 19 days) to complete.

Last week was a much-needed breath of fresh air.  This week is starting off on the completely wrong foot and I really need it to be last week again.  Anyway, here's a final product about which I'm not exactly thrilled but I literally couldn't write about this fifteen minutes of television anymore ever again.  So...enjoy?

Non-copyrighted slop plays us into a new day at West Bev.

Inside DJ Dave's Funky Fresh DJ booth, David quizzes Donna on SAT prep.  After she passes on a question, they have a cute-ish moment wherein David teases her and pretends to be a game show host, telling her that she's won "a trip to study hall! Yay!" Really: it was cute.  Or perhaps I forgot to turn off the gas after removing my head from the oven again.

They both gaze out the booth window and spot Brenda and Kelly against a locker bank, seemingly bickering, and Donna observes, "Look, they're at it again."

Out to the hallway we go: Brenda attempts to garner some consolation from Kelly - "Can't you at least be sympathetic to what I'm going through? I mean, you sound disappointed that I wasn't grounded" - but Kelly, who has already hurt Brenda in innumerable ways that she's yet to discover, isn't having it: "All I'm saying is, I'm glad your parents caught you."

Brenda asks her to keep her voice down, but too late: Dylan comes slithering up to stick his sideburns in the mix with, "Nope, too late for that.  What'd you do this time, Bren? Because I know I wasn't involved." I gotta say, the scenes with the three of them really skeeve me out on, like, a vascular level.  And I know it's only going to get worse and worse and I just don't believe my fragile, perimenopausal emotional state can take it.

Brenda denies that there's anything going on, and Dylan makes it extra-squicky by teasing, "If you don't tell me, Kelly will." Brenda finally cops to Jim and Cindy finding her cigarette pack but lies, "They wouldn't believe they weren't mine." Dylan offers, "Well, Bren, that's because nonsmokers don't usually carry cigarettes." Brenda's bummed that her boyfriend (rightfully) doesn't believe her either, and Kelly throws in an old chestnut from her days of pulling her mother out of puddles of her own sick: "The only thing worse than having an addiction is denying that you have one." And how.

Brenda insists, "I quit, okay.  Whether I was ever officially a smoker, I am now a nonsmoker, end of discussion," and then moves along quickly, turning to Dylan: "What I would really like to talk about is what time you're picking me up Saturday morning.  We should really get there 20 minutes before the [SAT] starts."

Dylan informs her that he's actually skipping the SATs and visiting Jack at Folsom Prison or wherever instead, and that he'll catch the test the next time around.  Brenda reminds him that he'll miss the college app deadlines; he doesn't seem to care; Brenda calls him frustrating; and Kelly feels the need to be the Pick-Me Girl of Dylan's dreams by scolding, "Brenda, it's not written in stone that everybody has to go right to college after they graduate high school." Talk to me a year from now when she's all rah-rah sis boom bah about higher education and sororities and frat guys and shitting on Dylan's lack of interest in anything collegiate.  WHATEVER.

Dylan thanks Kelly (genuine)...

...Brenda thanks Kelly (sarcastically), then stalks off...

...leaving these idiots...

...to exchange yet another lusty look and I sure hope David and Donna caught that (they did not).

Part 1 of Season 3, Episode 8: The Back Story - It's about to get sordid in the Hills of Beverly, yo.

Time for our latest installment of An Adult Tertiary Character Oversteps A LOT of Societal Boundaries With These Kids.

We're on a street...

...and then pan over to an office-type building...

...then head inside said building to a sign that reads "Albert B. Cooke SAT REVIEW COURSE SUITE 526." As you may recall, it was called "Alfred B. Cook" in the Season 1 episode "It's Only a Test," but who the fuck cares about continuity, I guess.  Maybe Albert is Alfred's brother who added an "e" to the surname to stand out in the world of standardized test preparation.

As we hear a monotone man begin to speak - "And you will look forward to the morning when you will awaken from a good night's sleep.  Bring your ID and your #2 pencils, and arrive at your SAT testing site approximately 20 minutes before the test begins" - we go into a classroom, wherein sits Kelly, zoning out...

...Brenda, looking attentive and gorgeous...

...David, with the jump scare in follicle form, Steve's hair, behind him...

...and as David leans over, there's Donna.  David whines re the arrive at your SAT testing site approximately 20 minutes before the test begins, "Why? So we can worry for an extra 20 minutes?" but Donna informs her incredibly stupid boyfriend, "No, so you don't have to worry about being late on top of everything else."

Steve, who only ever seems to butt himself into conversations, I assume because no one in their right mind wants to organically start one up with him, tilts forward and dispenses with the insults, as is his wont: "Relax, Eraserhead, you're a junior.  Come on, it's a piece of cake." I don't know if the "Eraserhead" is a slight about the shape of David's coiffure, but if so: THAT IS RICH.

The odd proctor/instructor man then provides them with his cultist mantra for the day of their testing: "Simply breath and bring yourself back to the sound of my voice saying, SDSM.  Scan, discard, select, move on.  Scan, discard, select, move on." This guy and his spooky, monotonous voice absolutely went on to form a Heaven's Gate-esque super-sect after this.

Lobby.  These hot broads.  Each dress is a dreamboat, then and now.

As they enter the area, this woman (whose name we soon learn is Beth) pops up from a chair with her Early '90s' Business Bitch dress suit and cute hair, cheerfully asking, "Excuse me, we're from KTMB TV.  Would any of you be willing to talk to us about the pressure you're feeling getting ready for college entrance exams?" We see the goatee with a cameraman attached stand up behind her.

The gals, looking like they would've been my favorite '90s' girls' group, exchange looks and sheepish smiles.

A while later, Steve enters the lobby, standing next to Kelly and asking, "What's goin' on?" She tells him, "Oh, just the local news"...

...and over to Brenda, standing front-of-camera, being interviewed by Beth.

BUT.  Steve spots ~sOmEtHiNg~ is amiss...

...which is an equipment bag with a logo on it that reads BACK STORY...

...and that's enough to set.  Steve.  OFF: "The hell it is!"

Angry Synth Drummage start up as he charges toward the filming, aggressively yanking the mic from Beth's hand, which is just a fantastic way to approach a woman, let me tell you.  Beth demands, "Can I have my mic back, please?"

And Brenda is scandalized: "Steve! What are you doing?"

Steve and The Very Hungry Caterpillar sitting atop his head have some seething to do: "Don't you know who these people are, Brenda? Did you ever hear of a sleazy tv show called Back Story? It's a junkathon news magazine that goes out of its way to ruin people's lives on national tv." Beth insists that's not the case, but ol' Mommy Issues over here sees it differently: "What about the story you ran on Samantha Sanders? That was a hatchet job if ever I've seen a hatchet job." Why were we robbed of seeing at least a CLIP of The BACK STORY of Samantha Sanders? I bet it mostly involved her voicing sheer terror over the advancing crimescape mullet growing out of her recently adopted infant son's head.

Kelly rushes up to whisk Steve away with, "Let's just get outta here."

David and Donna follow suit, him saying, "Come on, man, don't waste your breath," and Donna adding a sassy, "Really," capped with a filthy look thrown in Beth's direction.

Speaking of, she requests her mic back once more and Steve complies, but with a lovely side salad of a potential threat of violence: "Next time I'll break it.  And your camera, too."

After the towheads + DJ Dave exit, Brenda explains to Beth, "Samantha Sanders is his mom.  He's very protective of her." Beth understands, then wishes Brenda good luck on her SATs.  Don't worry: Beth will be back in a few minutes to be yet another fully grown-ass adult who inappropriately interacts with a minor on this show.  What fun.

Part 4 of Season 3, Episode 7: A Song of Myself - Things are going great. Except that they're not. So let's discuss 1992 teen soap opera dramzzz while the world burns.

Missed Part 1? Well, here you go.  Bypassed Part 2 because you've been a little too preoccupied re: the fall of democracy? Same; totally understandable; and you can catch up here whenever you need a moment of reprieve from coordinating next steps after the insurrection has been declared.  Sidestepped Part 3? Lucky! Because it was a big fat snooze, but if you must: have at it.  And now, onward to Part 4.

Another day? The same day? Who knows.

Steve descends the stairs...

...and spots this scene playing out below: three cartoonish goons tossing Herbert's briefcase back and forth as he stands helplessly in the middle of them, trying in vain to get it back.  One of the goons? Oh, just Tony Miller.  You know: the blood-thirsty, anabolic steroid-abusing menace from last season, who will NON-SPOILER escort Brenda to the prom at the end of this season and NO ONE - not her brother, none of her friends, zero - will have a problem with it, like, good luck, Bren! Hope he doesn't throw you up against a wall in a juiced-up fit of rage.

But that's a rant for another time.  Steve shakes his head and approaches, miraculously coming to Herbert's sort of? rescue?

After he asks, "What's goin' on?" Tony smirks and tosses the briefcase his way, calling their bullying merely "a little healthy hazing." You know a fraternity currently on academic restriction hates to see this guy coming next fall.

Steve catches the case and hands it back to Herbert...

...and the three 32-year-old men post up and shoot Steve their nearest approximation of "mean-mugging" as Tony demands, "What's your problem, Sanders?" Maybe it's the fact that you've violently thrown him up against a chain link fence within the last seven months? Just a thought.

Steve informs these clods, "You can pick on all the freshmen you want, just not my freshmen, okay?" How...nice? But also, poor Herbert, being claimed by Steve "Continental Cut" Sanders in such a way.

After Herbert thanks Steve followed with a "sir," the meatheads chortle in their brain-dead way, and then they're off, probably to go score some rohypnol for their ruckus Friday evenings ahead.  Brenda's a lucky, lucky lady.

Steve turns back to Herbert and scolds, "You really are a nerd, aren't you? Don't call me 'sir'."

But Herbert gives it right back: "Fine.  As long as you don't call me 'Hubert'."

A laughing Steve takes that to mean that he can inappropriately grab Herbert around the upper torso and lead him away and all of these people need to take a crash course in personal space and physical boundaries.

Part 3 of Season 3, Episode 7: A Song of Myself - Brandon has zero lines in this one! YAY. Gil has far too many and they're all TRASH, just like his blotchy beard and floppy hair and I hate him so, so hard. BOO.

I'm tired and sad and maybe the teensiest bit hopeful? We'll see how long that last one holds out.  In other news: another week, another Gil-involved scene in which to channel my feminine rage.

Nighttime at the Peach Pit.

Inside, Steve and the golden mold spores cascading down his neck unpack a box of 45s that contain some of the worst music you'll ever lay your ears upon, i.e. some David "Funky but Decidedly not Fresh" Silver Originals.  David asks the obvious for humans living in 1992 and beyond: "Who plays 45s anymore?"

Steve takes offense to David daring to question his non-genius and nongenuity (rim shot?), picks up the cursed box and walks it over to the juke: "Get with the program, David.  I'm gonna put these in jukeboxes.  I'm gonna have this puppy playing in every diner in town."  Los Angeles should've declared an immediate state of emergency after that terroristic threat was uttered.

What follows is nefarious on a few levels: David asks Steve not to play the record at the Pit, because Donna thinks she's the first person to ever have the displeasure of hearing it, and Nikki thinks she's the first person to ever have the displeasure of hearing it, and he doesn't want high jinks or cat fights to ensue if either of them were ever to discover the truth.

Ian Ziering gets a great line delivery here with, "You told me I was the first person who heard the song."

But the baseness continues as David frets about coming clean to Donna about his summer atrocity with Nikki, and Steve, one of Donna's oldest friends and a completely disloyal pig-man, insists that David doesn't have to tell Donna anything; that Nikki only wants to break David and Donna up so that she can have that DJ DS dong all to herself; and that what David should actually do is keep Nikki as a "little side dish." What a terrible day for me to have the ability to hear things because: what a massive pile.

 

David further agonizes about his fear that Nikki will tell Donna herself: "Ya know, the two of them have gotten pretty tight"...in three days...or five days...or whatever the hell timeline this episode has portrayed.

Despite Steve's above rhetoric, Mr. Ziering manages to make me laugh again with the following: "Let me tell you three words of advice that have always worked for me: deny, deny, deny."