Season 1; Ep. 17 - Stand (Up) And Deliver: A Lot Of Things Would Be More Enjoyable Than Watching This One. Things Like Rabies. Or Being Scalped. Or Death.

In which the author of this blog seriously contemplates elective insulin shock therapy, just to avoid having to write about Brandon running for Junior class president. In March. Of his Junior year. Also to be dodged: delving into the reasons behind Brenda's sudden status as an outcast, which ultimately leads her to associating with two supremely self-important windbags (no, not Brandon or Steve) who fancy themselves "funny" and "relevant," but who I find rather "annoying" and "the predominant reasons behind my ultimate psychological demise." You'll most likely want to beat up your television set after this one, so gather your boxing gloves, a couple of jugs of off-brand wine, and what's left of your common sense (I mean, you are willingly watching the show and reading this rant-soaked blog) and let's set this night to hatred.

We start out with...two boring losers. Brandon? Please stop wearing shirts that look like you've washed them fifty-seven times and now they're faded pieces of shit and you can't afford new ones. Or just buy yourself some goddamn Cheer Colorguard. AHHHHHHHNdrea? Stop wearing...that. ALLLLLL OF THAT. ANYway, AHHHHHHHHNdrea tracks Brandon down in the hall (which probably wasn't hard, considering she most likely stalks him all the live long day) saying, "Hey, yo, Ace! Wait up," and I'm assuming that Tony Micelli got his hands on the script again. And Brandon's all, "Oh, you've got a determined look on your face," and AHHHHHHHNdrea replies, "Nope. What I've got is a proposition."

And because Brandon is emotionally manipulative and a gigantic horndog, he slings his arm around AHHHHHHHHNdrea's shoulders all, "Well, your desk or mine, huh?" and I don't have to tell you that I immediately shotgunned a bottle of apple cider vinegar and a box of baking soda after hearing that inhumanity escape Brandon's facehole. But AHHHHHHHNdrea totally gets off on it and probably thinks it's actually going to happen HURL and then creams her Granny Panties as she says, "Look, it came to me in the middle of the night like a vision," and hands him this:

WOW, what an attention-grabbing flyer! How could you not RUN FOR OFFICE after seeing this thing? ANYhow, Brandon says, "Run for office? No one even knows me here." He forgot to mention that he's also a condescending dickbag most of the time, so people probably wouldn't want to vote for him anyway. Good thing I was around to remind everyone.

Also: I'm only going to mention this once (even though I kind of already have), because it really bugs the shit out of me but UM, I HOPE THIS IS FOR THE NEXT SCHOOL YEAR BUT IT TOTALLY ISN'T BECAUSE YOU'LL SEE LATER THAT BRANDON'S IDIOTIC CAMPAIGN POSTERS HAVE "JUNIOR CLASS PRESIDENT" EMBLAZONED ON THEM AND DAVID REFERS TO BRANDON AS AN ENTRY IN THE "JUNIOR CLASS PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION" AND THIS IS WHAT, MARCH AND THAT MAKES NO SENSE. BECAUSE BRANDON IS CURRENTLY A JUNIOR. UNLESS THE WRITERS HAD ALREADY DECIDED THAT THIS WAS ACTUALLY THEIR SOPHOMORE YEAR AND DIDN'T MENTION IT TO THE VIEWING AUDIENCE.WHY DON'T I HAVE A LIFE? BECAUSE THIS KIND OF STUFF KEEPS ME AWAKE AT NIGHT. Moving on.

But AHHHHHHHHNdrea, who really needs to go back to the drawing board in terms of hair, clothing, eyeglasses, and demeanor, says, "Yeah, but that's perfect. No one knows you well enough to hate you," and I would like to interject here and say I KNOW HIM WELL ENOUGH TO HATE HIM. ME. RIGHT HERE. And then Brandon is all, "Have a nice day, AHHHHHHHNdrea," and AHHHHHHHHNdrea's got a case of the sads because she thought he was serious about bumping uglies in the Blaze office. And she says, "Brandon, please. The candidate I was backing chickened out; there is no reason we have to let the popular airheads [read: Anyone Who isn't Deep And Profound Because They Live Out Of The District, i.e. AHHHHHHHHNdrea] run the student government. Now are you a candidate, or a coward?" And I'd say "coward" because he's a huge pansy about most things, but whatever.

Season 1; Ep. 16 - Fame Is Where You Find It: What Would Ease The Pain Of Having To Sit Through This One? Crack Cocaine. Crack Cocaine Would Be Helpful.

In which Brandon's already overinflated ego gets engorged even more after he's handpicked to become the next leading man on some teen-centric shit-show. And no, I'm not talking about Beverly Hills, 90210. And Brenda is at once NO NO NO NO NO and FUCK NO when she transforms herself into "Laverne," a god-awfully "New York"-accented, cat-eye-bespectacled, lip-syncing waitress who terrorizes customers at The Peach Pit when filling in for Brandon while he's taking the first, tentative steps towards his EGOT. YES ALL OF THIS IS SERIOUSLY HAPPENING. Grab yourself a vat of Pepto, a pallet of TUMS, and a loaded Beretta (for when - not if - things get a little too alarmingly awkward and uncomfortable and suicide is your only way out) and let's do this.

MY GOD UNFORTUNATELY, we open with this. Brandon's playing hockey all by his lonesome in some park, which looks suspiciously similar to the park where he and Karla "broke-up." I use the term "broke-up" loosely, as THEY ONLY GODDAMN KNEW EACH OTHER FOR ONE GODDAMN WEEK. Moving right along.

I mean...at least it's not a Canadian Tuxedo? His proto-Old Navy cargo pants are hiked up to Jesus, however, and I'm certain that if his hand...pad? protection? glove? weren't in the way, we'd probably being seeing a whole lot of his Little Minnesota.

And then, in another part of the park, MISCHIEF IS AFOOT. 

And this family is completely oblivious to the VERY OBVIOUS creeper looming in the background there, peeking around the tree like some ersatz Boogie Man, just waiting to steal some sandwiches or like, cut the string on their kite. MONSTER.

But no! This totally inept crook actually wanted the woman's purse. Which she was a stupid bitch about and just left laying on the picnic table, all waiting for all the world, or specifically, this guy with his gross, crotch-revealing, light x INFINITY jeans, to thief. 

So he doesn't get very far and then starts rifling through the bag, like, dude? Time to go back to Petty Theft School. And he also kind of gives me a Sparkly Vampire From Those Abortion Twilight Movies vibe, so basically, I want him to be caught, sentenced to life in prison, and sodomized repeatedly every time he takes a shower.

THANK GOODNESS this 35-year-old 2nd grade teacher with her SUPER-Ogilvie-home-permed forelock and MOTHER-FUCKING Steve SAUNders Special is there to save the day! She lays down the the truth talk on him: "Looking for something? Don't make me turn you in, Kirk."

And then Criminal Kirk is all, "Well, don't make me use this. I'll do it. I swear, I'll do it!" and we're maybe three minutes in to this and I already want to take a nap. Or a lethal injection of say, codeine with a potassium chloride chaser.

Oh, but this plucky gal sees right through Kirk! And dispenses some down-home wisdom that only someone dressed and coiffed like that could offer: "You wanna cut me? Go ahead. But you know that won't solve anything. Oh, god, you have so much to live for. Don't throw it all away. Not now, not like this," and Curly Sue, you guys? She is so wise.

Season 1; Ep. 15 - Palm Springs Weekend: Keep A Couple Of Home Depot Brand Buckets Nearby For This One, Guys. TRUST ME.

In which Dylan tries to pressure Brenda into sleeping with him, and kind-of-sort-of acts like The Biggest Tool In The Shed about it. It's called masturbation, Dylan. Look into it. I know you're all Experienced Bad Boy, but whatever. Also, Gap-Toothed Stuart Carson from Season 4 shows up (as a Non-Stuart bellhop or some shit) and David is at once The Worst Friend Ever as well as The Worst Grandson Ever. He also has The Worst Hair Ever. And The Worst Shirt Ever. Start it up.

CRIMINY. Look, you know how much I love me some Brenda + Dylan, but he's eating her face off here, LOUDLY, and it's quite disturbing. But his car is giving my eyeballs an erection, so whatever.

Brenda manages to push Dylan off of the snack bar that is apparently her face and says, "Dylan. We've gotta stop," an Dylan agrees all, "Yeah, we gotta stop; I'm dying here." Meaning he has balls the color of an overripe plum and is sporting a Woodrow the size of the Speedster's gear shift. 

And then he turns into Mr. Congeniality and says, "Brenda, we've been going out for two months now; I have been absolutely faithful to you and all I get is a bunch of promises and a lot of I'm sorry," and this is just charming. And by "charming," I of course mean "fucking gross." Like, because he somehow managed to not stick his dick into some other girl's bearded clam, Brenda now OWES IT TO HIM TO SLEEP WITH HIM??? Dylan, you are officially on restriction.

ANYway. Brenda says she's sorry, and Dylan's all, "Don't be sorry; be friendly," meaning "Give me a handy," I presume. And Brenda again denies him, saying that she can't; he asks, "How about next weekend?" and Brenda says, "I'm going to Palm Springs with Kelly and Donna next weekend," for Presidents' Day (a rocking, party-hard holiday if ever there was one) and Dylan gets all kinds of huffy (negative thirty-seven-hundred points for that) and then suggests that he get them a room in Palm Springs instead, and she can tell her parents that she's still hanging out with The Terrible Twosome. Because I guess 16 year-olds can just rent hotel rooms? But I guess because his father is Shitty Diarrhea Garbage Person Swindler Jack McKay, all of these swanky hotels all over Southern California just let Dylan shack up and fuck girls, etc., no questions asked. WHATEVER. 

So Brenda is still uncertain, and says she doesn't know and Dylan looks at her like this and says, "Yes, you do," and because I am not a robot, I love Dylan again. THE END.