Season 2; Episode 7 - Camping Trip: Here's The Recap That Took Me Seven Centuries To Complete Because (SPOILER ALERT) It's Just The FUCKING WORST.

In which WHO CARES.  This episode sucks.  Many, many dicks.  And, as stated several times previously: Brandon almost dies, but doesn't.  SO WHAT'S THE POINT? TELL ME.  Also: there's this Rando Just Married Couple that shows up, and they're mostly creepy interlopers who completely lack boundaries, and who are well on their way to being deranged, typically fucked-up Beverly Hills Parent-types, but they Learn A Lesson from the kids and Steve and AHHHHHHHHNdrea so whatever, it's fine.  As long as the rich asshole teenagers from West L.A. feel good about themselves, that's all the matters, right? Right.  So anyway...did I mention Brandon doesn't plummet to his well-deserved and much-anticipated death in this one? No? Well, he doesn't.  I haven't been this disappointed since Brandon didn't die in a fiery, soused-up car accident after binge-guzzling Steve "Sandra [SAUNdra?] Lee" SAUNders' Semi-Homemade Hooch.  Anyway.  On with the (JUST GOD-AWFUL) show, I guess.  Go there.

We open, where else? on House Of Walsh.

Up to Brandon's room, where he's currently being squaty-legged and rummaging for something on the top shelf in his closet.  As he does so, Brenda calls from off-camera, "Brandon! You better give me your toothbrush and stuff if you want me to pack them for you!" Ooo, intrigue about where they could possibly be going!  And by "Ooo, intrigue about where they could possibly be going!" I of course mean "They're going camping with The Gang and I have maybe three moist shits to give about all of this."

Brenda enters her brother's room and sees him foraging for something (shoe lifts?) and says, "I hope you're not finding more stuff to take.  Your half of the bag is already full." Seriously, they're not allowed to bring more than a bag? The van that they've rented (I guess?) looks pretty huge, as you'll see, but I guess most of the space will be taken up by Brandon's ego and princely ideals of himself as well as Steve's Power Mullet and garment bags teeming with his trusty belly shirts.

Brandon finds whatever he was looking for and then almost eats it and crushes his skull and shatters his pelvis and snaps his spine and dies while coming off of the chair but doesn't, and this episode, in addition to being totally imbecilic, mind-numbingly tedious and a fucking waste of LIFE, is also really just one big tease and I don't appreciate it at all.

So what Brandon was looking for and found was this hat that I can only assume was part of his Boxcar Willie costume the previous Halloween.  And then there's this massively cringe-worthy moment where Brandon says it's his "lucky" hat, and Brenda LITERALLY describes it as "one nerdy looking thang," (yes, "thang") and he tells her that he thinks it's cool (of course he does) and her response is, "Well maybe to a beaver," and it's got to be the most awkward and unnatural scene between these two, ever, and it really made me clench my backside in a really unpleasant way.

Kelly then stomps into the room, wearing a Cherokee for Target t-shirt she borrowed from Brandon, and the shorts I wore everyday in 8th grade.  And she tells him that Steve is the fucking worst.  And no one in CREATION is surprised and everyone responds to her with a collective, "DUH."  But really, she comes in to tell Brandon, "You have got to do something about [Steve]...he is unpacking Donna's suitcases.  He said she's exceeded her luggage allowance." I would suggest that Steve has exceeded his word allowance for a lifetime, as well as the allowance of the number of racer-back tanks somebody can own, but no one ever listens to me so never mind.

Brandon leaves the room to go try to be all butch with Steve and throws his hobo-hat atop Brenda's head.  She immediately rips it off of her skull, fearing that his gross hair is catching.  I don't blame her.  So then the girls talk about how Jackie forced Kelly to bring David on the camping trip, because Jackie and Mel are going out of town to probably hang with a bunch of degenerate, couple-swinging oral surgeons or whatever revolting shit Mel's undoubtedly into.  And then Brenda says that Dylan's not going on the camping trip because his mom moved back? from Hawaii? Hell if I know.  I mean, obviously I knew Iris had moved back to L.A. with Dylan because of subsequent Season 2 story lines, but I find it odd that none of this was mentioned in the previous episode.  Like any sort of conversation about where Dylan's going to live and with whom.  Whatever.  Why I expect this show to be some beacon of continuity is beyond me.

Cut to Front Lawn Of Walsh.  And Steve, looking all of his 41-years here, is rifling through one of Donna's bags.  And he pulls out two handfuls of shoulder pads and says, "Donna, nobody takes shoulder pads on a camping trip." You know, I'd take a stockpile of shoulder pads over having to look at Steve's flesh-colored ringlets on a camping trip any day of the week.  But hey, that's just me.

So while Kelly was wearing my 8th-grade uniform, Donna is pre-dating that by sporting my 6th-grade look of choice.  Although I Fresh Prince'd my toddler overalls by undoing one strap.  Because it was 1991 and I was a fucking loser.  Anyway, Donna's all in a huff because Steve, as everyone EVERYWHERE is in a huff because Steve, and she tells Brandon to basically reign Steve in and then choke him out with a leg of his (tight-rolled?) Union Bay khakis.

But Steve and his pants that are hiked up to his perm, the sky and Jesus will not be deterred.  He says that Donna also doesn't need all of the makeup she's bringing, and I sincerely hope that somewhere in one of those bags is several tubes of some Alberto VO5 Hot Oil Therapy.  Because Donna's hair is made of silage.  And she's all, "Thank FUCK, Steve is not my father," only maybe not that first part, and then Brandon attempts to play mediator with, "Now Donna, Steve does have a good point...you'll never wear half this stuff and as far as I'm concerned you never need makeup anyway," and then he does this:

Because he's an emotionally manipulative fuckwit and now Donna needs to go wash her cheek with scalding hot Ajax-laden water mixed with her own tears and applied brusquely with a Ped Egg.

So they start loading up the van again and Dylan walks up with sleeping bags and Brandon says, "Yo, Dylan, what's the rumpus?" because he's a complete and utter douchebag who is the sole reason I binge-drink.  So Dylan compliments the van and Steve prattles on about all of its features and I conclude that I would rather be doing anything else at all in the world than dealing with this useless poop-smear of an episode.

Dylan goes to leave (to get the fuck away from Brandon, obviously) but of course Brandon wants to keep hearing the sound of his own pompous voice, so he stops his friend and talks about Dylan not going on the camping trip and then forces Dylan to discuss his deadbeat mother, who, in classic garbage-person-parent fashion, is abandoning her son for the weekend to go to the desert and as Dylan says, "I'm not invited.  So much for quality time with Mom," and adds that he's sick of Iris's "cosmic mumbo-jumbo." Brandon calls Dylan "Jones" (because I don't hate him enough, apparently) and asks him to go on the camping trip ("camping trip" is the new "slumber party") and says, "Just got a message from my cosmic adviser, your planets need aligning muy pronto in the Yosemite Valley." Do I even have to punctuate the last thing he said with "I fucking hate Brandon"? No? Didn't think so.  Blah, blah, NOONECARESblah, Dylan's going on the mother-fucking camping trip and Brandon heads inside to go get him some gear.

But first, he stops to tell Steve that Dylan's coming with and Steve gets all kind of annoyed and sarcastically says, "Oh, great, I'll just rearrange a few hundred bags," most of which are filled with adult diapers, I assume, seeing as Steve is very obviously wearing a pair here.

Up to Brenda's room, where no one continues to care and Cindy helps her pack.  And they have some boring mother-daughter conversation about being safe out in the woods and then Cindy gets all kinds of porny and says, "Make sure those boys stay on top of you," wink-wink, nudge-nudge, but corrects herself with, "When you're hiking, that is." Brenda reassures her mother that Dylan and his Sideburns Of Steel aren't even coming on the, siiiiiiiiigh, camping trip.

This is Brandon's cue to barge into the room and inform the gals that yes, Dylan will be joining them, and will apparently have to wear Brandon's dingy, faded t-shirts, jeans and underwear? in the process.  Poor Dylan.  I guess if I had to wear boxers that had been intimate with Brandon's Little Minnesota at some point, I might also resort to tossing back a couple hundred airline bottles of Arbor Mist as well.  Anyway, Brenda tells him that their bag is already too full for Dylan's additions and Brandon's all, "Well, you don't want Dylan to go naked, do you?" and then adds in Typical Inappropriate-Verging-On-Incestuous FREAK Walsh fashion, "Or do you?"

Back to Front Lawn Of Walsh.  Jim is pretending to be helpful by rearranging bread and a giant tub of French onion dip? in a bag.  David and his lady legs, AHHHHHHHNdrea (wearing her asinine scarf-sewn-on-as-a-collar shirt [which she also wears in the episode where Emily Valentine is outed as a poorly-coiffed arsonist]), Donna and Kelly all stand around being useless as Steve asks Brandon, "Where's your sister already? We don't leave soon we'll never make it to camp before dark." 

So Brandon basically tells Steve to calm the fuck down and not to get his extraordinarily wig-like hair in a twist.  And then Dylan goes inside to get Brenda, and Those Hot Sluts will hopefully start making out or fighting or both, because my eyes are now unable to remain open on their own and I currently have my upper lids adhered to my brows with postage stamps and electrical tape.

Well, that's somewhat better.

Dylan watches Brenda adoringly as she attempts to stuff the remaining clothes in the duffel bag.

And his hair looks really, really good right here.

So he offers to help her pack and she tells him, "I always knew you'd turn out to be good for something," and then Dylan, once again, has to turn in to Sad Sack KING and is all, "Well when you figure out what it is let me know." Brenda basically says, "Listen you fucking pansy: get over yourself.  Everyone has problems," but it sounds more like, "You're very sensitive these days." And then it devolves into Dylan just wanting sympathy and attention and telling Brenda that he shouldn't be going (because he wants her to beg him to go, obviously) and she jokingly tells him that he has to go because she just repacked the entire bag for him, but since she can see that Dylan has zero-percent sense of humor, she plays into his little Woe Is Me number and tells him, "Because I want you to go." No, no you really don't, Bren.  Because he's mostly going to mope around acting like a little bitch the whole time.  So then he asks her if it will be weird for her with him present and she says no, because it's a platonic trip with separate cabins for the boys and the girls and MOSES ALMIGHTY this is so, so tedious.  MOVE ON.

As Brenda and Dylan leave the room the camera pans down to Brandon's hideous hobo hat and hiking boot-shoe hybrid things.  AHAHAHAHA.  Maybe he'll take a nosedive over a rugged rock face because these boots were left behind and DIE.  You: "Only the first part happens.  You already know this." Me: "It's called wishful thinking, asshole."

OH GOD.  Back out to the driveway and Brandon gives this lame pep-talk about the ever-loving camping trip: "All right, I know I don't have to remind any of you that school starts next week, so let's get a little national park spirit goin' here and focus in on the fact that we're all young [HA], free, healthy, wealthy and wise, and about to embark on probably the most righteous journey of our lives thus far.  Let's get busy." And then they do this Not Found In Society group cheer thing that really, really turned my stomach and put me off food for like, a week.

And then: driving.  David, BUT OF COURSE, starts in on a rendition of "99 Bottles of Beer," and then Steve starts in singing "Yosemite here we come," set to the tune of "California, Here I Come." And the whole gang sings the part "right back where we started from," and then HORRIFYING AHHHHHHNdrea ruins all the things as usual and solos, "Where bowers of flowers, bloom in the spring!" all nerdly and horrible, and I kind of wish she had maybe had to go into some kind of home following her traumatic encounter with Garg but unfortunately she appears to be completely back to normal, i.e. a total irritant.

Anyway, more driving ensues and I wish this was how the rest of the episode went but unfortunately it's not.

Cut immediately to a dark and stormy sky...

...and then to some cabin area where...

...these dorks are standing under some kind of firewood awning thing as fucking banjo music plays in the background.  Brandon asks, "So, anyone know any good rain songs?" which made me laugh, probably because I've joined Jackie in the Stockholm Syndrome department, or maybe because I've gone mad because this episode is such a snooze, or perhaps because Jason Priestley's delivery of the line was pretty funny.

And they spot this car in the parking lot, which belongs to the aforementioned burdensome, boundary-askewing newlyweds who will wreak havoc on my synapses in a few minutes.

So then Kelly, wearing an ugly Mexican throw rug as a jacket, gets all on Steve's ass, snidely saying, "Steve, I cannot believe you forgot to check the weather report," and Steve's all, "I didn't forget to check the weather report! I just didn't believe the weather report," and again, I laughed, out loud, at that last line and it was either Ian Ziering's delivery, the fact that my apartment is being pumped full of nitrus oxide or MY GOD PLEASE HELP ME.  So then Steve brings up the obvious: that Brandon is an across-the-board existence ruiner because he stopped and helped some bozo change a flat tire and that if he hadn't, "We woulda been through the Tioga Pass before the highway patrol closed the roads."

Brandon, whose look here is reminiscent of the time he came out of the drink all sopping wet and heavy-breathing and fucking disgusting when he was trying out to be a lifeguard, is of course one of those annoying ass Pollyannas who believe the glass to be perpetually half-full, starts in on his rah-rah-sis-boom-bah rallying cry with, "Eh, c'mon, guys! This is a minor setback! Remember guys, we're on..." but no one wants to hear Brandon's voice ever again (join the club) so everyone else monotonically finishes off his bothersome little sentence for him: "Vacation.  And we hope you die tomorrow, dude," only maybe not the last part.

So then Dylan and Brenda exit the lobby or front office or whatever of the cabins, where they were presumably speaking with the guy sitting there (who kind of looks like a grown-up Bobby Brady) about renting a room to a bunch of teenagers, because that would totally happen.  But perhaps because Dylan looks like he's 28 the guy was fine with it.

So Brenda explains to the others, "Okay, there is good news and there is bad news," and Donna requests the good news first, and Brenda advises that there's one cabin left.  Steve asks for the bad news, which leads us to...

...some dumpy, leaky roofed room, which actually closely resembles the Valley Hovel of Zuckerman, so at least AHHHHHHHNdrea will feel right at home.  And once again the absolute zaniness of the situation is emphasized by banjo music, this time partnered with The Tuba Of Waka Waka.

And then everyone stands around and bellyaches and moans and Brenda tries to lighten the mood with, "Well, at least I negotiated a reduced room, right?" and Steve moodily advises, "Got what you paid for."

David, OF COURSE, pulls out his camera and starts filming, narrating, "The accommodations, though sparse, have got an undeniably rustic ambiance." Kelly is there to thankfully throw some shades of Bitch Face in David's direction and tells him, "Turn that thing off already." More like, "Turn that thing off, but only after you film a goodbye message with it and then do us all a favor and fucking kill yourself."

Brandon can't just fucking shut up ever so he has to cheerlead to the others, "Hey, c'mon you guys, it's not that bad." And then Donna complains of the mildew smell and David exposits for everyone that there aren't enough beds for everyone.  Right.  Because he wouldn't just love to share a bed with one of the girls or AHHHHHHHNdrea and rub his pint-sized ween raw up against one of their thighs.

We cut over to Dylan, who's putting the moves on Brenda with his eyes, seemingly saying that he would love to share a bed with her so that they can FIE.NAH. LEEEEEE go back to being truly Hot Sluts together.  One more episode, you say? THANK FUCK.  So everyone keeps complaining and complaining and Brenda suggests a fire to get the room warm,  but Dylan informs her that the firewood is soaked through.  How 'bout everyone joins me in a mass suicide? Because bleeding out from your left-side common carotid artery after snipping into it with plier-style nail clippers sounds like PARADISE compared with being subjected to the anymore of the unmitigated torment that this episode is bringing with it.

Kelly says that she wants a hot bath and AHHHHHHHNdrea comes out from the bathroom and tells her that there is no hot water and, "Be careful with the toilet seat, it's got splinters."

And then AHHHHHHHHNdrea flips ALL fucks out because there's a spider in the bathroom and AHHHHHHNdrea is a loathsome human being but I totally feel for her on this one since spiders are my sworn enemies (after Brandon Walsh, that is) and because I also wear glasses (not hideous ones like hers, however) I sympathize with her on the fogged-up lenses after coming inside from the rain and/or cold.

Brenda, wearing Shaq's BEHEMOTH bomber jacket, comes in and saves the day and flushes the spider down the toilet...

...and then goes to look for bug spray underneath the sink, where she discovers a mousetrap and flips ALL fucks out herself.  AHHHHNdrea explains to the others that the mousetrap was empty, but that "the cheese was...nibbled." You guys? I don't know how much more of this I can take.  Who fucking cares about ANY of this? This is painful.  Like, violent stomach-cramping, simultaneous vomiting-and-sharting painful.  So if I speed-sprint through the rest of this, please forgive me.  Or don't.  I don't really care.  I just can't with this one.  I...can't. 

I will quickly tell you that Brandon decides he's going to find dry firewood, but that he needs to change into his dung-colored hiking boots.  He asks Brenda where they are and she tells him, "By the bed," and he thinks she means the bed that they're currently sitting on but of course she doesn't, she means her bed at House Of Walsh and the hilarity just won't stop!

So Brandon turns into the verbally abusive ruptured anal gland secretion we all know him to be and screams his sister down in front of other people about her not packing his shit.

And Dylan, wearing a fucking Canadian tuxedo, asks Steve, looking all kinds of Tropical Splash Ken from the neck up, "Are we havin' fun yet?"

Later: the girls go through the soggy food.  Why is it soggy? Hell if I know.  It would've just gone from the van to the cabin, and you would assume whoever was carrying it would've done their best so that the bag didn't get all soaked.  But it was probably Steve who brought it in, which is why the food is ruined.  Whatever.

So then Donna moronically wishes for a T.V. Guide, and Brandon condescendingly informs her that there's no television in the cabin.  Donna gets in a semi-endearing comment with, "I know, but I'd just like to know what I'm missing."

So then this dweeb, who's wearing a sweater that I'm pretty certain I owned in 1995, adds, "What I'm missing is music.  I can't believe nobody brought a C.D. player." And why didn't you, Mr. Music Himself, bring a C.D. player? Fucking mutation.  Also: FIX YOUR HAIRLINE.

So Donna gets all excited and insinuates that she brought a C.D. player, but all she pulls out of her bag is this Walkman and everyone's disappointed.  Another relatively charming line from Donna: "Well, we could take turns." 

Steve calls that idea "stupid," and then Kelly chimes in with, "Not as stupid as your hair or your tight-rolled pants or your personality or very existence," but not really; she actually says, "Not as stupid as driving hundreds of miles through a rainstorm."

So then Steve's up and leaving to go get some beer.  He will have no problem scoring some, seeing as he is clearly 41.  He asks Brandon to go and Brandon responds with, "Hey, don't look at me, partner.  My drinkin' days are over." And then he asks Dylan...

...and Brenda gets her Bad Bitch on and admonishes Steve: "You know he doesn't drink, why are you trying to tempt him?"

Dylan in turn gets his back up about Brenda's concern so he gets all shitty with, "Excuse me, I can answer for myself," and then to Steve, "Not this time, man."

MOTHER.  So the scene goes on for approximately infinity and David says he'll join Steve and Kelly asks what Mel would say (WHO CARES) and then Steve, Consummate Alcoholic, calls everyone not interested in drinking a "deadbeat," and then Donna says that she'll go and then 15 hours later she lets them know that she needs to pick up maxi pads or tampons or the Everyday Sponge or some shit.

Brandon then switches gears and goes from being an outright verbally abusive asshole to being a passive-aggressive, on-the-down-low verbally abusive asshole and calls after Steve, David and Donna, "It's too bad you guys can't get me a new pair of hiking boots while you're at it." Brenda reminds him that it was an oversight and that she's sorry but no explanation is ever good enough for Brandon, who continues to browbeat his sister with, "What about my lucky hat, was that an oversight, too?" Brandon's lucky that Brenda didn't take a piss on his hat and then run over it with a lawnmower and then light the scraps on fire.  ANYway, Brenda advises her decaying canker sore of a brother, "How did you expect me to fit everything in when you had me pack all those extra clothes for..."  but she stops short and looks over at...

...this complete Sad Sack, who stands up all, "Hey, I'm sorry.  Shouldn't have come.  That way you'd have your lucky charm instead of the cosmic jinx," and then he storms out of the room.  There aren't enough oh, PLEEEEEEEEEEEASEs in creation to follow that up with, so let's just move along.

Unfortunately we don't move along very far, as Brenda runs outside after Dylan to apologize and further play into his Poor Little Rich Boy act.  Then she asks about his whole "not this time," response to Steve and Dylan incredulously asks her, "What are you, my mother?" Brenda informs him that she's just worried about him and, trying to bait her again, says, "Oh, well, you are definitely not my mother." Shut up, Dylan.  And fuck off.  And take this entire episode with you.  So Brenda tells him that everyone, including him, needs to calm the fuck down in order to salvage the weekend and he advises, "I just don't feel like being the life of the party, okay?" Um, Dylan? You're never the life of the party.  Like, ever.

Oh  SATAN.  Here we go.  Brenda and Dylan end up in this little vending area and this annoying train wreck of a human, whose name we soon find out is Allison, asks if either of them can spare a quarter.  Brenda, instead of running in the opposite direction, asks Allison if she's on her honeymoon, I guess because her sexy Victorian-era Dorothy Zbronak nightdress just screams "newlyweds fucking."  Allison confirms that yes indeed, she is the blushing bride.  If I was to put together an interpretive dance related to this episode, Dylan's body language right here would be my emotional translation for every single moment of it.

So then Allison's gross husband Neal rolls up behind her, paying no heed to the fucking teenagers in his proximity, and wraps a blanket around his wife and like, starts rubbing his semi-erect dick against her lower back.  Allison introduces him as her "husband," and says, "I like the sound of that honey, my husband, Neal," and Neal's all, "Music to my ears.  Let's go back to our cabin and you can sing it to me," meaning she can sing it to him in while playing his skin flute.  So as they turn to go back to their room, Brenda asks, "Hey, aren't you guys bummed that you got stuck here?" and Allison replies sarcastically, "Oh, yeah.  Aren't you bummed, honey?" and Neal says, "Devastated," and I really hope that Neal and Allison's room has been infiltrated with inbred backwoods militants while they went to the vending machines, seeing as these two should be shot immediately.  Oh, and some bizarre-o version of "Here Comes The Bride" plays in the background and helps nothing.

My GOD.  Over to this.  Steve gets denied in his attempt to purchase beer.  I don't know why, because, as previously mentioned, he is plainly 41.

To cut this massively unimportant subplot a little shorter, Steve gets these Old Timers to take his money and buy the beer for him.

Back at the cabin.  Brenda...

...and Kelly play Go Fish.  Yes.  It's come to this.

Over to the fireplace, where Brandon's trying to get a fire going and AHHHHHHHNdrea's being a know-it-all nuisance, just like she always is.

At some point during Brandon and AHHHHHHNdrea's exchange, Brandon braggarts, "Well, I've built many fires," and Dylan makes this rad whoop-dee-doo face in reaction.  This is possibly the only good thing to come out of this episode.

So then Dylan tells Brandon that the newlyweds should have dry firewood and Brenda tells her brother that he can't interrupt Neal and Allison's fuckfest honeymoon.  Seeing as Neal didn't mind dry-humping his wife in front of total strangers, I somehow doubt that he'd mind if Brandon and AHHHHHHHNdrea came knocking.  He'd probably ask them to have a seat and stay a while, as he finishes up 69'ing with Allison.

More banjo music plays as AHHHHHHHNdrea and Brandon knock on the marrieds' door.  Neal, who's more than likely sporting a massive Woodrow right here, is hesitant about the two coming in...

...but Allison, still outfitted in Ma Ingalls' dressing gown, insists Brandon and AHHHHHHHNdrea come in and asks them if they'll join her and Neal in a toast.  I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE.

Not this.

Or this.

This I'll allow.  The old people take off with Steve's money.

And then Steve yells after them with his disturbing moose knuckle showing.

NO.

Neal continues his track record of unabashed inappropriateness by mounting Allison, in front of AHHHHHHHHNdrea and Brandon, and then grinding his flanneled dick into her satin-blend covered-hip.

It only gets more flagrantly revolting when AHHHHHHHNdrea, veteran hard-up loser, stands there watching the depravity before her while popping a nerdly lady-boner and Brandon yanks her out of her perverted reverie and out of the room.

Brandon's smelly, disgusting white trash sneakers dry by the fire.

Everyone sits around talking about what a goon-loser Steve is, as you do.  And then they all get into a discussion about how kids rule and parents drool or some shit, and how all of their parents, sans the Holy Walshes of course, are shitty diarrhea people.  No argument here.  And then the girls all agree that the meaning of life is love.  Colossal WHO FUCKING CARES, right? Right.

So of course because Dylan's role on the show is Brooding & Broken Bad Boy And Don't You Forget It, he has to chime in with his own theory on what makes the world go 'round: "Survival.  That's it.  Gettin' by...love just gets in the way.  Confuses people.  Makes 'em scattered." Because he, a well-off 16 year-old from Beverly Hills, knows all about either one of those things.  Maybe in my forthcoming fanfic of this episode Brandon will take Dylan with him by the leg of his jeans and they will both hurtle towards their deaths on the floor of a rocky chasm.  ANYway, Brenda defends the whole "love" thesis with, "Alison and Neal are able to tune out the rain and cold and be at one with each other.  And each and every one of us would be lucky if we could find someone like that to rely on."

Cue someone knocking on the door and Brenda and AHHHHHHNdrea going to answer it and opening it to find this fucking disaster, bawling her eyes out and telling people she met all of an hour ago that Neal is, "a stupid idiot! I don't wanna impose but, do you guys have room for one more in here tonight?" because shacking up with a bunch of unknown teenagers following an argument with your husband is completely something a non-deranged person who totally shouldn't be on anti-psychotic meds does.  So then the thunder crashes and the wacky tuba version of "Here Comes The Bride" plays again, and I decide that this whole "living" thing is not at all what it's cracked up to be.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo.  AHHHHHHNdrea brings Allison something to drink and gets all nosy about what went wrong, and I would fault AHHHHHHNdrea for being a fucking snoop, but since this mental patient decided to come in and whinge about her wreck of a life to a bunch of unfamiliars, have at it, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  Anyhow, Allison tells everyone, "The bastard got me pregnant." CPS should be contacted immediately, so that they can prepare to be present at the moment Allison gives birth and snatch the baby directly from her vagina and take it to an orphanage, where it will absolutely have a shot at a better, more stable life with anyone who adopts it.  And that includes serial killers and roving bands of gypsies.  It gets even more ABUNDANTLY clear that Allison's unborn fetus should take out a pre-natal restraining order on her when she informs them that even though she discovered that she was pregnant the week before, she has yet to inform Neal.  She was planning on telling him that night but Neal informed her that he never wants children.  Soooooooo...this was never FUCKING discussed when they were dating? Like, I am a childless person and would like to remain as such and even though I was only 25 when my boyfriend and I got together, I knew it was a subject that would need to be broached, and early on.  So broach I did and luckily, my boyfriend is also pro-no-kids, so it all worked out.  And had he told me that he wanted children, even down the road, we wouldn't have gotten together.  Why am I sharing all of this with you? I don't have the fucking slightest.  In conclusion: I hate Allison, I hate Neal, I hate this episode and if some kind of zombie apocalypse occurred right at this very moment, and every single one of these people were taken out in a violent, bloody, brain-devouring fashion, I would be pleased as pie.

A knock at the door again and there's Neal, serving up some Casual Hoth Realness.  Brandon invites him inside with a bowel-churning Ricky Ricardo imitation: "Oh, hullo, Ricky, come on in, Lucy is talking to Ethel right over there.  Babaloo," and where are all the Deliverance-type, shotgun-wielding hillbillies when you need them?

Allison continues her tradition of being a total burden and runs into the bathroom.  Neal further involves these strangers in his drama by telling them, "We were just talking and boom! She blew up on me.  You woulda thought I told her I just slept with her best friend or something." David starts to divulge the real reason behind Allison's mental collapse and Kelly's all, "I think we should let Allison discuss this with him." Donna agrees, saying it's "kinda personal." This whole episode is kinda giving me a mad case of Crohn's disease with a side of PTSD, so can we move on?

Also: Neal is apparently 7'57".

Allison finally emerges from the bathroom and Neal asks her why they have to discuss everything in front of a bunch of strangers and Allison tells him, "Why not? You're as much a stranger to me as they are." And again I ask: WHY THE FUCKING FUCK DIDN'T YOU FOOLS DISCUSS ANY OF THIS BEFORE YOU FUCKING GOT MARRIED? In conclusion, my advice involves the following: Divorce followed by Allison getting a good old fashioned abortion at her local Planned Parenthood.  ANYhow Neal pulls out the oh-so-charming trope of, "I have to ask: is it that time of the month?" Allison punch-shoves him and heads back into the bathroom instead of going back to her own (empty) cabin, packing up her clothes, getting in her car and driving directly to the nearest lock-down psych ward.

Neal sits down and then the kids pour out all of their Shitty Diarrhea Garbage Bag Parents drama that we've all heard approximately INFINITY X 37 NEGLIGENT COKEHEAD times before.  Oh, and David talks a lot of smack about how Mel was a crap-stack husband to his mom, which should be Kelly's cue to find the nearest pay phone and attempt to reach her mother at DDS Swingersfest '91 and warn Jackie of Mel's reputed shit-sack tendencies.  She unfortunately does not do this.  But Neal does interject all of their baggage with a, "Hey, guys, I know divorce is no picnic for kids, but we don't have any kids and we don't plan on having any, either."

Again, Allison exits the bathroom to babble on and on about a bunch of shit none of us care about and then FUCKING FINALLY divulge the fact that she's pregnant to Neal, whose only reaction is a "Oh my god!" accompanied by a Only On Television clap of thunder at that exact moment.

Dylan, like the rest of humanity, is sick of dealing with all of this, so he peaces the fuck out by saying that he'll be heading over to Neal and Allison's abandoned cabin.  I hope while there he builds a bomb that will detonate as soon as either Neal or Allison enter the room.

Of course Brenda follows Dylan off, so that they can sit next to each other on Neal and Allison's couch and remind us of what Hot Sluts they are.  And they talk about WHAT ELSE Dylan's slipshod parents.  And  Brenda tells him to look at all the positives in his life, like how many girls at West Bev want to do him.  And Dylan gets all Sad Clown for the grillionth time this episode and says, "Every girl...but one," meaning Brenda.

So Brenda tells him that she cares about him and he gets this puss on and says all bitterly, "Oh, I forgot.  You care about me but I'm just too intense." Well...you're also kind of a buzzkill, so maybe it's that, too, Debbie Downer.

NOOOOOooooooo.  NO MORE.  NO MORE OF THIS.

Dylan berates the freshly-made-up newlyweds, basically telling Allison that getting a back-alley abortion with a coat hanger and a Dustbuster would be better than having either of them for parents.  And I can't say that I disagree.

And then Neal thinks he's like, Chuck Norris or some shit.  WHY DON'T THESE PEOPLE GET THE FUCK OFF MY SCREEN ALREADY.  There are a lot, I mean AHHHH-LAH-HHHHOT of terrible, festering cesspool episodes in Seasons 8, 9 and 10.  But this one, which is a smoldering pile of rotting septic tank residue poorly masked with Febreze Air Effects in scent: Sweet Pea Petals,  is right up there with them.

So after Dylan stalks off into the waiting arms of (hopefully) a mother grizzly bear, Brenda goes back to the her cabin, where Kelly idiotically inquires, "How was the honeymoon suite?" Brenda doesn't want to talk about it, nor does she want to participate in this brain-deadening episode any further.

Brandon has to come up and stick his non-chin in the mix and ask where Dylan is, then chinlessly suggest that Dylan can sleep in the unlocked van.  Whatever.

Back outside.  Dylan's got his Almost Cry Face on.

He sits down on a log as the Gee-Tar Of Nosediving Off The Wagon plays in the background, and pulls two nano-sized bottles of booze out from the breast pocket of his way-trashy Rustler barn coat and caresses them like they're wearing a fly black and white dress with a bow for days and would like to accompany them up to Room 2-7-1.

Oh Christ Jesus.  The way Luke Perry portrays "backsliding alcoholic" is laughable.  It's like he watched tapes of Barney Gumble and took notes.

And then he's all emotional like a little bitch.  Whatever.  Drinking rules! So much so that I'm doing it at this very moment.  Not so much because it rules but because fuzziness and a false sense of happiness is desperately necessary as I attempt to finish this recap for the 27th time this week.

To that end: LET'S FUCKING ROCK THIS BITCH.  Quickly.  And with a complete disregard for the boring yet astoundingly insulting storyline.  Brandon comes out of the cabin the next morning in his White Trash Finest, calling out for Dylan as only a total rod with a massive penis complex can: "Yo, McKay! Rise and shine, Jones."

No Dylan in the back of the van.  I hope he was carried forcibly even further into the woods by a pack of angry centaurs.  Oh, this isn't Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix that I'm talking about? That's unfortunate.

He finds his friend...waking up on a log? Wow.  Those two nips of alcohol really did him in.

So then Dylan tells Brandon about the drinking and that he stole the bottles from the honeymoon cabin and that he puked his guts out.  Whatever.  Oh, and then for the thirty-ninth-hundredth-blotrillionth time just this episode alone, they talk about Dylan's pustulating sties of parents.  Although I'm actually kind of understanding why they don't want to be around their whiny bitch of a son.  What a wet blanket! So then they decide they're going to listen to me for the first time EVER and take a fucking hike.  Hopefully off a cliff.

Back inside the cabin, Deviant David films Kelly while she sleeps.  She wakes up and takes out the gun she brought along on the trip and shoots David in the stomach and he bleeds out all over Scott's mom's Persian rug.  No one cares.

Steve blows his nose.  Will the laughter ever start stop?

And then Donna tells David to fuck off and die, even though he already just did, what, with the gunshot wound Kelly gifted us with.

And then everyone gripes about Steve blowing his nose and they all complain about how hungry they are.  And then the entire population of Earth and some other planets continue not to care.

Back to this.

Dylan talks about how he sometimes loses faith in himself but that this hike has restored his faith in humanity or something and then he rubs Brandon's shoulder and it's all very homo-erotic.

They cross a log and Brandon sprains his ankle or gets his shoe wet and acts like a supreme pussy.  What a shock.  And then the show continues the tradition of horrible voiceovers as Brandon's Horrible Voiceover pipes in and says, "Wish I had my hiking boots."

They head up some craggy something or other as the sweet Bros Hiking Music plays in the background.

Climbing, climbing, climbing.  I'm going to assume it was Mount Lee.  I'm surprised we don't catch a glimpse of the Hollywood sign in the background there.

They're finally at the top and Dylan says, "You know it's like sometimes, I try to imagine my future and I just can't see anything." Okay.  We get it.  You're misunderstood and your parents are trash heaps.  Stop talking.  Anyway, all of this is leading to what is at once the most FUCKING BOSS thing to ever happen on this show and also the most disappointing.  The Brenda v. AHHHHHHHHNdrea showdown from the previous episode was pretty legendary, but this, my friends, this is pure poetry:

BYE BITCH.  Also: Dylan could've just dropped his Tic Tacs for as much non-reaction as he shows here.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...

...AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Blah blah Dylan saves Brandon's life.  And for that I'll never forgive him.

If we're being technical, it's actually the Luke Perry's Stunt Double-as-Dylan who saves Jason Priestley's Stunt Double-as-Brandon's life.

I'll also throw in this very Creation of Adam moment and add that Brandon can't reach Dylan's hand because he's a Mary and 3 feet, negative 7 inches tall on a good day.

BOOOOOOOO.  What a letdown.

Bro Hand Clap.  WHATEVER.

Back at the cabins.  The girls are dressed like me circa 1993.  Which has already been established; I just thought it was worth mentioning again.  It wasn't, you say? Oh.  Anyway, everyone's all worried about Dylan's whereabouts and they also have to act like they're concerned about Brandon's.

Oh! But here they are.  Brandon hops out of the van on one foot, seeing as his shoe fell off while he was dangling from the cliffside a few moments ago.  That errant shoe is a fucking cunt, as it failed to take its owner down the jagged precipice with it.

Everyone stands around and waxes unfunny about what might've happened to these two, since they don't actually disclose what happened.  Maybe because the others would've been as disappointed and sickened about all of it as I am.

They all run inside to grab their gear and hit the road again, as these two fall behind and Have A Moment.  Having A Moment music plays here as well, in case we the viewing audience couldn't figure out what was going on on our own.

So after Brenda manages to get away from Dylan and all his shitty drama and loads of emotional baggage, he heads on over to these embarrassments, who are packing up their stuff and with any luck, headed to the nearest sanitarium, and apologizes.  Erm, I'm pretty certain it's Allison who should be doing the apologizing here, Dylan.  Seeing as she's a needy sociopath with a penchant for dragging total strangers (teenagers, no less) into her personal life crises.  In conclusion: later, Neal, Allison and your Future Fucked Up Kid.  I totally hope you don't all meet a horrible end with the business end of a tractor-trailer whose driver hasn't slept in 36 hours.

Awhile later: more standing around.  And Dylan is apparently BARFILY putting the moves on AHHHHHHHHHNdrea

God ALMIGHTY.  Brandon's all off by his lonesome, posed up against a tree but in near enough proximity to the group to demand attention.

Which he OF FUCKING COURSE gets from AHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  She asks if he's okay and he's all, "Yeah.  Actually I'm incredibly okay.  C'mere," and then...

Yeah.  This will end well.  Brandon totally won't be taking a restraining order out on AHHHHHHHHHNdrea in the near future following this little display of flirtatious affection, which AHHHHHHHNdrea (popping MAJOR lady Woodrow here, obvs) will inevitably misconstrue to mean that Brandon wants to fill her womb with stubby, smug, self-righteous babies with appalling hair and poor clothing choices, and thereby exacerbating her whole If I Can't Have You No One Can mentality.

And then everyone gathers 'round again for another lame as fuck group cheer.  FIN.  And by "FIN," I of course mean, "FUCK OFF."  Pardon me while I polish off the third bottle of wine I've been drinking directly from...you know, like this:

And then watch as I break it over the back of a kitchen chair and plunge the newly formed weapon deep into my abdominals.  Or my laptop screen.  Or the DVD containing this episode.  Whatever.

See everyone next time (or not, following this rage-filled non-recap, which has probably convinced most of you once and for all that I'm an escaped mental patient and/or perhaps suffer from some kind of Tourette Syndrome that only presents itself when I write) for THANK LUCIFER "Wild Fire." All I care about is My Beloveds getting back together.  And Brenda gifting us with one of her Greatest Hits ("Have fun at the gynecologist.").  And Emily Valentine's Leather Daddy Hat.  Until we meet again, all.

Oh, but one final note first: my cats are apparently Dylan/Kelly 'shippers, seeing as I come home most days to this:

I don't know whose house they they think they live in (theirs; they live in their house.  My boyfriend and I are here merely as decoration and, seeing as they lack opposable thumbs, to open cans of food.) but this will just not do.  I need to sit them down for a stern talking-to and explain how Brenda and Dylan are The Hottest Sluts of all time! They will, of course, react to this by licking their genitals, throwing me a judgmental side-eye (can you blame them?) and sauntering directly up to the dolls and batting them face-first into the hardwoods again.  Perhaps I should invest in Doll Brandon and encourage them to abuse and drag it into their toilets and drown it in their water dishes.  And then I can take pictures and start a new blog called "Let's See How My Cats Defiled This Brandon Walsh Doll Today." It'll be huge (no it won't).

All images courtesy of the author's Mad Microsoft Paint Skillzzz, the author's vast repository.