Sunday, April 13, 2014

Season 2; Episode 4 - Anaconda: No, The Title Of This Episode Is Not Referring To ANYTHING In Steve's Or Brandon's Pants. And Thank You To Satan For That Small Favor.

Dudes.  It's been a while.  And for that, I apologize.  It was a hectic March-into-April for me for whatever reason, mostly, and as previously discussed, because I am a lazy bag of dicks.

Fortunately, I was rewarded for being the Useless Mortal Of The Millenia in THE MOST MAGNIFICENT WAY POSSIBLE mid-March:

Oh, no big.  That's just my Dylan and Brenda dolls, hanging out on my coffee table.  YOU GUYS.  I have The Greatest Boyfriend Ever. SEEEEEEEEERiously.  He buys me things like this and isn't constantly backing away from me all slowly or even caring that I call him Dylan sometimes all the time.  Wait, what? I didn't just say that.  Nope.  Moving on to this ever-engrossing episode... which Sad-Sack Dylan sad sacks around sad sackily and works my last nerve.  But not nearly as much as Brandon, who reaches "Higher Education" levels of shitbaggery with all of his pseudo-Hardy Boy antics and shoutily accusing people of things they didn't do, with a bunch of assumptions and little-to-ZERO evidence, in addition to his par-for-course Deflection Of Blame And Accountability, all "B.Y.O.B" StyleZ.  How Brandon has gotten this far in life without being scalped or imprisoned for crimes against humanity with all of his disloyalty and general Smarm Douchiness is beyond me.  ANYhow, nothing else really happens in this one.  Steve wears a fake handlebar mustache, which helps absolutely nothing.  Brenda gets sunburned, because that makes for compelling T.V.  Worthless Henry nearly surpasses Worthless Nat in the Worthlessness Department.  And Kelly's been banished to "Newport Beach," which means we don't have to deal with her embarrassingly flinging herself at homosexuals or baby-talking her way through her scenes for an entire episode! REJOICE! And, LET'S DO IT.

So we start off back in time, Beverly Hills circa 1978 because LOOK AT ALL THE CARS.

We hop in our DeLorean, travel forward through time and end up here, which we find out is Jim's office building because we hear him droning on and on to someone before we actually see him.

Cut to: Jim's office, where we have this horribly grainy screenshot, which I'm hoping is not attributed to the DVD player in my laptop, but rather what I suspected last week, which is that these BH, 90210 discs have been rode hard and put away wet so many times (think, the DVD version of Jackie Taylor) the quality they're serving up resembles that of a film reel us Old Timey people remember from elementary school.  You know: the ones about protoplasm or bicycle safety or Donald In Mathmagic Land.  ANYhow, Jim's talking to someone in this chair, which we only see the back of, and I guess it's supposed to be a mystery as to who it is, but it's totally not, because ALL the people know it's Dylan.  So here's what Jim's bloviating on about: "Look, I can help you manage your finances.  It's what I do and I do it very well. [GEE, I WONDER WHERE BRANDON GETS HIS PUSTULATING ANUS EGO FROM?] But if you keep putting this off, two things will happen: you will be flat broke, and you'll be in a lot of pain.  If you don't take care of it now the courts will step in and when that happens, all hell will break loose.  And frankly I think you have a moral responsibility here as well.  Do you have any idea how really serious this is?"

So then Sad Clown Dylan turns in his chair all fucking Eeyore and says, "Yeah, I guess I do."  So Jim exposits for the viewing audience that Dylan has to get on a plane and go to Hawaii to see his horrible mother.  And make peace with her or some shit so that he can get money from her.  Which, DOESN'T HIS MOTHER HAVE A FUCKING LEGAL OBLIGATION TO HER KID??? Like, why is Dylan having to do the footwork? Sue that bitch for negligence! And I know it comes out later in the season that Jack threw a bunch of money at Iris so that she'd go away blah blah blah, but this is just nonsense.  I could write a dissertation on this goddamn story line (and the show in general, obviously) but I won't.  I mean, I'm sure I will someday, when I'm in a psych ward and they remove my straitjacket from time to time to let me stretch my arms and whatever.

So Dylan is as disgusted as I am by the prospect of having to ask Iris for cash, and he gets his Almost Cry Face on and Poor Little Maybe-Not-So-Rich Boys, "All my life she threw money at me and called it love, I didn't ask for love, but to ask for money?" Although, I wish I had a mother who threw money at me all the time.  That would be RAD! And then Jim's all, "But if you don't you'll be asking for a lot worse," like WHAT.  He's SIXTEEN.  Perhaps becoming a ward of the state isn't such a bad idea, what, with the fucking tipped-over porta-potty residue parents he was NON-gifted with at birth.

Next, it's over to the BHBC and yes, it's the same establishing shots from before, set to some Beach Boy'ed version of the BH, 90210 theme song.

These people have been stuck in the same volleyball game since "Beach Blanket Brandon."

Poor, Tiny, Put-Upon Brandon, you guys.  He's actually having to work.  But look at his upchuck face as he does it I HATE HIM I HATE HIM SO, SO MUCH.

And then Brandon's Partner In God-Awfulness And General Piece Of Shitness Steve comes running up and jumps into Brandon's laundry basket.  That is not a sexual euphemism.

This picture here appears to be showing us the grossest most upsetting and brain-bleed inducing Lamaze class ever.  But in actuality, Steve is just trying to convince Brandon to join him in some after-hours poker game that evening in the beach club game room.  So then even though in later seasons one of Brandon's tedious, one-dimensional character arcs is I Have A Gambling Addiction and we're supposed to believe him to be the retroactive inspiration for the lyrics to Kenny Roger's The Gambler, Brandon informs Steve that, "I'm not comin'.  I work too hard for my money [COLOSSAL WHATEVER.] to waste it playing poker.  Besides, I'm not even that good at it."  You are also not good at being a decent human being, fuck stick, but that hasn't stopped you from parading around thinking you're the most morally superb person to walk the planet.  EAT THREE BUSHELS FULL OF DICKS AND CHOKE ON THEM AND THEN DIE OF ACUTE ASPHYXIA PLEASE.  ANYhow, Steve says that's why he wants Brandon to play: "You stink."

And then Brandon clues Steve in to the fact that the cart he cannon-balled into is full of towels with "paddle tennis sweat, sauna sweat, aerobics sweat, and uh, somethin' from the shower room floor I'm not even sure what it is," and then Brandon does this and pushes the cart full of Steve into traffic and while doing so, his shirt gets caught on the cart so they're actually both thrown into traffic and THE END.  NO MORE OF THESE TWO FOR THE REST OF MY EXISTENCE.  Except that I have a feeling that they will continue to haunt my night terrors for ALL of the eternities.

So rather than Steve and Brandon fulfilling my ultimate fantasy by dying, Brandon actually rolls Steve into these guys, who apparently just got done with practice for their Steely Dan cover band.  So until they hit it big, they're day job is working for Seashell Laundry.  This won't be the last we'll hear of them this episode either, so stay tuned.  Because I know that this scene was so riveting and all.