Monday, September 28, 2015

Season 2; Episode 15: U4EA - This Post Is FOR You And FOR Me. DO YOU GET IT??? Also: My Dad Told Me I'm Clever And I Believe Him.

Before we get into this thing, I just wanted to tell you a little about the live podcast from The Blaze With Lizzie and Kat! that I attended here in L.A., which dealt with this very episode.  Emily Valentine Herself, Christine Elise McCarthy, was the guest and she was adorable and charming and lovely and still has amazing upper arms, by the way, which inspired me to go directly home afterwards and bust out several circuits of chair dips, and by "inspired me to go directly home afterwards and bust out several circuits of chair dips," I mean, "inspired me to go get drunk off margaritas and power-eat a bunch of chips and salsa and enchiladas." Also present: Charles Fucking Rosin! Writer/executive producer of 90210! Yeah, I was pretty much a giant blushing fangirl goober the entire time.  And also a little like a Maury audience member, in that I was audibly saying things, like "Mmhm!" and "HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!" and "YOU GO GIRL!" (okay, maybe not that last one) and clapping like a chimp and just generally being A Total Embarrassment.  So basically, like Dancing David without the windmilling arms or color-blocked, poly-blend abortion of an outfit swathing my person.

AAAAAAANYWAY, Lizzie and Kat were amazing - total pros who put together an engaging and funny evening for everyone in attendance.  They are Boss Ladies and I truly admire what they're doing.  Here's the link to this live podcast - you should also back through the archives, because if you're not tuning in, you're truly missing out on all the fun.

Benjamin was in town that weekend and joined in the festivities (along with my boyfriend) and oh, he came to play:

And meet Christine Elise LOOK AT HER ARMS:

And he actually won the door prize!  And has A Moment in the podcast where he says things and unfortunately announces to the world that he most relates to David Silver.  Yeah, we're not friends anymore.

I also purchased Christine's novel, Bathing & the Single Girl, after the show.  I'm planning on doing a giveaway of the extra copy I picked up, sometime between now and the next blog post (so like, in another year or so), so stay tuned.  I've just started to read it myself and am already completely in love with her writing style.  I'm sure whoever wins whatever ludicrous contest I think up ("Like this post on Instagram and then tag 15 of your closest friends and share with at least 7 of your mortal enemies and then eat a bunch of Raisin Bran to the point that you have the trots and then take a picture of your sloppy stool floating in the toilet bowl and whichever specimen looks most like this picture of Mary Magdalene, wins") will love it, too.

In the meantime, onwards and upwards.

Wherein Brandon overdoses on vast quantities of the U4EA Emily slips into his drink.  And none of us ever have to deal Smug Smugly ever, ever, ever again and we're all happy and impromptu parades break out across the globe and world peace is declared and we all hold hands and sing it like a goddamn early-'70s Coke commercial.  A girl can dream, no?

Front of West Bev; kicky music plays in the background and we see that that hot bitch JACKIE! will be making an appearance this episode, which is comforting, given everything else we're in for.

Hallway; a bunch of people roam about, including the guy in the tangerine shirt up there, who's clearly 35 with a wife and two kids.

The staircase; a bunch of horribly-dressed extras.

Inside to a hand turning a locker dial...

...which turns out to be Emily's hand, opening her locker with a flourish and declaring "Ta-dah!" to Brandon.  She's offering up a shelf to him, seeing as he's apparently always being a little pansy and complaining about not having enough room in his locker.  She tells him, "I kinda like the idea of your books in my locker," which loosely translates to, "I would like your penis in my vagina." Brandon, Hard-Up Garden Gnome, concurs, stating that he would also like his penis in her vagina, ahem, books in her locker, but coyly queries, "Movin' in together - that's an awfully big step, isn't it? I mean, what would your parents think?"

Emily fills him in on the fact her parents think she's nuts anyway, because they've seen her hair (which here, resembles a bleached out bald eagle's nest that's weathered at least a half-dozen typhoons and countless squall line thunderstorms) and her taste in guys.  And I'd like to break it to both these dweebs that as far as Emily being "nuts" goes: they ain't seen nothin' yet.

And then this happens and I lose my eyesight for the 55th time since starting this blog.

These three exit a classroom somewhere: Donna, wearing a vaguely cute blazer; Kelly, in a decent plaid jacket - I'm docking points for the front-zipper as well as the odd side panels; and last but not least Brenda, wearing this pretty, gauzy shirt-dress that is doing wonders for my distaste of the color poop-brown.  They all talk about how they have nothing to do that weekend, and when Donna suggests miniature golf, Kelly speaks for the entire population of Earth when she says, "You've been hanging out with David just a little too long, you daft bitch." Only maybe not that last part.

The girls eventually meet up with Brandon and Emily (Donna's face speaking for us all when confronted with Brandon's presence), with Kelly calling them "the happy couple" and asking if they have something "disgustingly romantic" planned for the forthcoming weekend.  I'd like to remind Kelly that anything involving Brandon is prefaced with the adjective "disgustingly." In my book anyway.  It comes out that Emily has already made plans and that the gals can join, "If you're up to it." Brenda asks what she has in mind and instead of saying, "A drug-steeped atrocity if ever there was one," Emily simply hands Brenda this flyer:

With this address on it.  Which currently looks like this, for any of you fucking losers (like me) who care.  It's in Echo Park and I had a friend who actually used to live about a block from here.  From what I know, I don't think this area was so hotsie-totsie in the early-'90s - you were liable to be stabbed from what I've heard.  But now it's all been infiltrated with hipsters and. like, artisan unicycle/mojito shops, so whatever.

Emily explains that the address on the flyer is where you exchange an egg (oh please) to get information on the whereabouts of the actual "incredibly hip underground club." Her words, not mine.  I would never voluntarily use the word "hip" to describe anything.  Other than my actual hip.  Although Brandon appears to be popping multiple, smug Woodrows as he listens to his girlfriend front like she's all alt and in-the-know.  Emily goes on to say that she used to get all Molly'ed up (I'm paraphrasing) and go to clubs like it in San Francisco and that "the music is great [which you will soon see if false], the people are cool [again: false, because Brandon].  And anything goes." Yes, I suppose anything does go, unfortunately:


Brenda asks if Brandon's planning on going and he says, "Sure, why not? Sounds like an experience.  Just so long as I don't have to dance."

We'll all be thankful for that, dude.

Cut to Emily and Brandon stomping into the Blaze office, Brandon proclaiming, "Hey, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea, you gotta come with us tonight.  We're gonna delve deep into the seedy underbelly of the L.A. underground club scene." Pleeeeeeeeease.

AHHHHHHHHNdrea, who appears to be attempting to serve up some budget Mary Jo Shively Realness here (as if), stands up from her desk and asks, "What, is this some article you're writing behind my back?" because in AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's Toni home-permed head, the entire cosmos revolves around the mother-fucking Blaze.

Miraculously, someone finally calls AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea out on being The Least Enjoyable Person To Be Around Ever, which comes in the form of Emily sarcastically cluing her in: "No, actually we were gonna go just for fun." What a notion.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea declines the invite and instead of whipping out the Cabbage Patch followed by a quick succession of The Carltons, Brandon basically begs her to go: "Come on, AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  You remember fun.  Or is it such a foreign concept these days?" Well, seeing as AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's never experienced fun, is not fun and is in fact the exact opposite of fun, yes, I would venture to guess that it's as foreign to her as a good under-eye serum.

Enter Steve.  All hell breaks loose.  And by "all hell breaks loose" I of course mean "My innards collapse in on themselves." That vest.  The mock turtleneck.  The horrifying beginnings of the mullet that will come to signify End Of Days.  It's all too much to bear.  Anyway, Steve found out about underground club excursion, even though everyone was trying to keep it from him, because no one in their right minds would voluntarily spend an evening with Steve and his hair, so he asks about the happenings and oh, for fuck's sake, Emily's carrying an egg in her bag.  I could write a goddamn monograph about why that would be disgusting, implausible, idiotic, smelly, etc. but that would take up the remainder of your life and my life as well as the lives of all the people who have yet to be born, so why bother.  She explains to Steve that, "We're supposed to exchange an egg at a convenience store downtown" - even though 778 Alvarado isn't downtown; close-ish, but decidedly not downtown - "at which point they will then clue us in to the actual club location."

Steve then smells the egg, and makes a face.  Because he saw a reflection of himself in the egg? No? It's because the egg was stinky? Oh.  I just figured that Steve only made that face when he caught a reflection of himself in anything.  Never mind.

AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea proceeds to lodge the bundle of sticks residing in her cornhole even further up her anal canal and judgmentally asks, "What's the big secret?" Emily, who by all means has every right to dislike AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea, given that AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's obsessed with Brandon and takes every opportunity to guilt-trip him into paying attention to her, shoots back, "Cops love to bust any place kids wanna go and have a good time." AHHHHHHHNdrea responds hall monitorishly, "Not unless there's something illegal going on." I hate it when it turns out that this bitch is right.

Clearly, Emily does, too.  I love her face here.  This is the face one should always make when dealing with The Zuck.

Anyway, Steve yet again proves his status of loose-stool-floating-in-pond scum by saying, "I hear those places are a raging babe fest.  And if that's illegal, than I'm Public Enemy #1." The only thing you're Public Enemy #1 to is good hair.  And good clothes.  And good personalities.  And good choices.  And the inflamed lining of my stomach.  So then Brandon continues to care if AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea joins them, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea continues to pretend to be on the fence about going, Emily goads AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea with, "I'd understand if you're scared," AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea surprises no one by haughtily geeking out, "Actually, it would be a terrific piece for the Blaze," Steve causes AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea to reconsider her position by telling her, "Be my date," AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea asks after the aforementioned "raging babe-fest" without somehow projectile vomiting, Steve breaks the internet before the internet was even a thing and responds, "Well, this way they'll think I'm taken and they'll want me more," AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea thinks ANYONE CARES AT ALL BUT THEY FUCKING DON'T and concludes, "Well, if you guys aren't gonna write about it, I will."

Emily hates AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  As we all hate AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.

Hallway.  Later.  Kelly informs the other two that her mother, former lying coke fiend, has a problem with lying lately: "So long as I'm straight with her, she's let's me do anything I want." Meaning that she plans on being straight with Jackie about the underground club nonsense.  Seeing as Jackie's probably going to be too busy, what with her face buried in Mel's fetid crotch all night long, I doubt she'll care.

House Of Walsh.

Inside the twins' Jack-and-Jill, Brandon stands at his sink and Brenda at hers, both getting ready for their debacle of an evening ahead.  They discuss what their alibi to Jim and Cindy will be.  Brandon suggests that they tell their parents that they're going out to study, which Brenda doubts will work: "On a Friday night, dressed like this?" While I dig on Brenda's vest and her hair game is, as always, on point, is how they're dressed really any different from normal? Nobody's sporting a ball gown here.  And it obviously goes without saying but both of their pants/jeans/whatevers are terrible with a capital fucking disgusting.

They go back and forth about what fib they'll use (apparently the Parents' Walsh aren't as evolved as Jackie in the lie-telling department) and they finally settle on, as Brandon tells it, "a bite to eat and goin' out to see a movie: Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.  There's a midnight show every Friday night in Westwood." Of course this fucking rod would know that.

And then they do this weird shoving thing which was probably some sort of incestual foreplay ritual which I'd really rather not get into at the moment.

Office Building Of Taylor, which can only mean one thing...

JACKIE!!! YAAAAAAAAAS, BITCH.  Here, she's throwing us some Early-'90s' Katie Couric Glamour.  The unspoken tragedy here is of course that all of this fierceness is going to be utterly wasted on the likes of Mel and his nerdly schlong later in the evening.  But for now, Jackie's pretending to be a good mother who wasn't just doing lines off the toilet seat in the bathroom down the hall and enters Kelly's room.

Kelly's at her full-length mirror, looking amazing and buttoning up some skin-tight jeans as Jackie chides her with, "I hope you're not planning on breathing tonight." Kelly says that her jeans are "inhale only."

Jackie asks where the evening is going to lead Kelly and her friends, and Kelly fesses up: "We're going to an underground club that Emily knows about." Jackie feigns authority and says, "Wait a second.  I just saw an exposé of those clubs on the news.  They're illegal and they're in horrible neighborhoods," which she would know, given that she probably visited a lot of them when this was her idea of a fun-filled Friday night:

YOW.  Although, if it led to this eleganza:

Then it was clearly all worth it.

Anyway, Jackie denies Kelly (who looks just stunning; I always loved this hair-look on her) and Kelly gets mouthy and reminds her mother, "You know, there used to be a time when you were in such a fog that I could do whatever I wanted and you wouldn't know the difference." Jackie refers to this as "the good old days," as does the rest of world, because it also gifted us with this vision:

I mean.

Kelly whinges that she's going to be the only one of her friends that's not going, and Jackie responds, "Well, then, you're probably the only one who told the truth.  Sorry," and then she walks out of the room.  Like Jackie wouldn't be on the phone with Cindy and/or Felice about all of this.  Although perhaps she's just too concerned with whatever nauseating bedroom shenanigans Mel has in store for her.  Probably involving a mouth prop, local anesthesia and several Los Angeles area periodontists.

Kelly's only response to her mother's rules is to lay back on her bed and sulk her teeny little mouth off, rather than bribing her mother with the prospect of low-cost street drugs.

We head back over to the H,O.W. and Jim and Cindy! who we didn't encounter at all in the previous episode, because they apparently had no comment on the death of a tertiary character who matters even less than them.  Here, they're raptly watching something on the t.v.

Brandon and Brenda appear in the doorway, Brenda announcing that they're headed out.  Jim and Cindy barely look up, Jim brushing them off with a, "Have fun." Brandon starts to add, "We're just gonna grab a..."

...but then Cindy wins the WORLD by doing what I always do whenever Brandon appears onscreen and opens his pie hole.  MARRY ME, CINDY.  They go back and forth about where the kids are going (which is described as a "thing"; no additional details given) and what time they can extend their curfew to, which is apparently the break of dawn for Brandon, given the fact that that's when he'll stroll back in to the H.O.W. without any consequences whatsoever.  Keep this in mind later in the season when Brenda comes home late - not after rolling on MDMA all night and allowing her mint-condition car to get ravaged by thugs; but rather, after mistakenly falling asleep at her boyfriend's house.  Double Standard: Thy Name Is Jim Walsh.

Back to Kelly's room.  Jackie comes back in to find her daughter all cozied up in bed, doing homework.  Which should probably be her first clue that Kelly's going to be sneaking out, but again, Jackie's preoccupied with the rainbow party she's going to be taking part in at Mel's in a few minutes.  Kelly snoots that, "It's not like I have any choice," and then, "At least one of us has a degrading, shame-filled life," after Jackie says she's off to Mel's.

And then this happens: Kelly seriously waits all of 3 seconds before she gets up off the bed and disrobes, revealing a cute (albeit Kelly Bundy-inspired; nothin' wrong with that) body-con dress.  She then shakes her hair out, grabs her clutch and she's out the door...presumably before Jackie has even had a chance to head down the stairs? Unless Jackie was planning on using her oft-mentioned teleportation skills to get to Mel's? Who knows.  Kelly will get her Stupid Bitch Comeuppance later in the episode, so whatever.

To the Peach Pit.

Brenda and Brandon enter and then apparently start making out because THAT IS TOO FUCKING UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL FOR SIBLINGS TO BE STANDING.  Ahem.  Anyway, Brenda asks him, "Are you sure you wanna do this?'s just that I feel like we're all here because Emily said so." I mean...Emily invited everyone.  But like, nicely.  Not in a "do as I say" kind of a way.  Whatever, Brandon, probably mentally jacking off at the prospect of his girlfriend Emily and his sister Brenda wrastling around in the mud, smirkily smirks, "You really don't like her, do ya?" Brenda tells him that Emily's his girlfriend and, "that's all that matters."

And then Emily walks up and this happens and Brenda excuses herself to go upchuck in the bathroom while simultaneously lacerating her wrists for a few hours.

Oh goody.  Worthless Nat has arrived on the scene to provide us with a handful of worthless dialogue for the episode, to wit: "Hey! Somethin' up here? This isn't the Peach Pit attire." "Have fun!" And finally, to Emily: "You take care of my pal, don't let him get in any trouble.  He's got the early shift tomorrow!" Ooo.  Foreshadowing.  Thanks for playing, Worthless Nat!

Boring, boring, boring, everyone talks about where AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea and Steve might be (WHO CARES) and Emily reminds them that "If we don't exchange that egg by midnight, we might not get in at all."

David makes some asinine remark about how the exchanging of the egg is "cool" which prompts Kelly to shoot him a nasty look (remember last episode when Kelly affirmed to David that they would always be his friends? Didn't last too long, now did it?) and ask of Donna as they're heading out the door, "Why does David have to go with us everywhere we go?" Wouldn't we all like to know the answer to that one.  Donna, dressed as some kind of Goth-adjacent cage dancer in an ass-cheek-revealing onesie, advises Kelly, "Get used to it." I'm pretty sure Donna should be bludgeoned to death for subjecting the rest of her friends to David and his "Ninja Rap"-era Vanilla Ice-looking ass, right?


Shot of a convenience store, which is presumably supposed to be 778 Alvarado, but which has the numbers '6020' displayed above the door.  Kelly's Beemer, Brandon's Mustang and Dylan's Speedster are parked in front as everyone gets out of their respective vehicles.

The group of them clomp inside the store and Emily leads them to the counter and this guy:

Whose obvious lack of an undershirt and indeterminable accent lets us know he's unscrupulous sleaze who will supply underage kids with directions to illegal raves and pints of Jack Daniels to toddler-types such as David.


And: yep.

We're then immediately inside the rave-whatever, where the illegal festivities are in full swing, and where all of these people have gathered thinking they're going to be taking part in Lionel Richie's "All Night Long" music video.

Outside we see that this little gathering is taking place at the future home of the Peach Pit After Dark.

The Gang has arrived! and they all head into the warehouse-looking building, David bragging about his whiskey-score (Kelly, once again speaking for mankind and saying, "Would you just shut up already? Trust me, no one even remotely cares."), Donna, denouncing the fact that the place doesn't even have a bouncer, and Brenda, nervously offering up an evening at the movies instead.  Emily tells her, "Oh, we're way past popcorn and gummy bears now, guys."

Yes, yes, sadly we are way past that now.  More on this fresh hell later.

Before entering, Dylan (wearing what appears to be not one but two denim jackets...with jeans...and his girlfriend Brenda is also sporting a denim jacket...with jeans...are my eyes seeping blood? Because I really think they are) takes Brenda aside and warns her that while, yes, there will be atrocious music and dancing inside, there will also probably be a lot of drugs and shirtless brothers lolling around on car hoods and people smoking crack rock, because I know when I wanna freebase some cocaine, I head to 'da club.  Brenda asks him if he's going to be okay and he assures her that he is, except that he might need to mainline some heroin later in the evening, but he'd let her know.

And then they head inside with Richie Sambora bringing up the rear.

Interior.  This club gives off a hodge-podge of a vibe, which includes Vogue and Cold Hearted, with just a dash of Rhythm Nation.  Shannen Doherty has to say the unfortunate line of, "Well, I definitely don't think we're in Kansas anymore," and Kelly adds, "I don't even think we're in L.A. anymore." Uh.  I guess it depends on the area of L.A. you're in, you uppity snatch.

Another pan over of all the happenings.  And by "all the happenings," I of course mean "everyone, including a go-go-type on the scaffolding who has clearly lost the ability to use her lower appendages, dancing in a way that signals the downfall of civilization."

David makes some moronic comment about the place being "trippy," which incurs a nasty comment from Dylan and a filthy look from Kelly, along with her asking him, "Yeah, David, you're just so hip, so happening, right?" I believe that answer to her question is, "FUCK NO," by the way.

So then David starts downing his whiskey.  Perhaps because he's still upset over Scott? Scott Who, you ask? Yeah. so does David.

And then we seriously get this shot again.  CAN WE PLEASE GET TO BRANDON OVERDOSING, PLEASE, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE? You: that doesn't actually happen.  Me: In the Beverly Hills, 90210 fan-fic that is constantly on repeat in my head it does.

A shot of this punk-rock-looking couple.  This event has sure attracted all walks of life, no?

Presented without comment.  Other than: are we sure that Emily didn't drug Kelly's iced tea at the Peach Pit? Because WHAT IS THIS EVEN.

Unfortunately, this screenshot does not represent the moment that Emily grabs Kelly by the shoulders, strikes her face with an open hand and then tells her to get a goddamn grip after saying that she misses Steeeeeeeeeeve, but rather, she adds that, "I know how you feel.  Life can be really depressing without a boyfriend." Because, as is the consistent theme of this show, A Woman Is Only Whole When She Has A Mans.  Remember that, ladies.

Emily walks away to go smear her denim-clad pubic mound all over Brandon's pleated pants and Brenda sets it straight for Dylan: "I hate to say this because Brandon likes her and everything, but there's something about Emily that just rubs me the wrong way." Dylan turns in the direction of the lovebirds-cum-gross assholes...

...and oh, hey! look who's being a couple of gross assholes! Except that really, it's Brandon who's the gross asshole, given that he's, as usual, eating the fuck out of Emily's face and breathing his hot Brandon breath all over her cheekbone? Nose? Where the fuck is he going with this? Whatever, Dylan apparently thinks this is some Hot Action right here so he informs Brenda, "Well, she obviously rubs somebody the right way." BARF.  On so many, multiple levels.

Back at the Peach Pit, Steve and AHHHHHHHHNdrea walk in, wondering where everybody went, when really they should be taking it as a crystal clear indication that no one, not even David Fucking Silver, wants to hang out with them.  It turns out they're late because Steve was helping himself to seconds of AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's grandmother's chopped liver and Leona was going on and on about hallah and other stereotypically Jewish things, like the Holocaust or some shit.

At the counter, Not-So-Worthless-In-This-Moment Nat informs them that "she" drew them a map.  When Steve asks who "she" is, Nat explains, "Uh, Brandon's girlfriend," and you can actually see the moment when AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea pulls a Ralph Wiggum and her heart breaks upon hearing those words.  So then Nat says, "And they said to give you this," and then Nat pulls out his penis.

No.  That's filthy. How could you even think such a thing? He does not pull out his penis, but rather, an egg.  Which causes Steve to immediately pop a Woodrow, as is evident from the above screenshot.  Apparently all those egg pheromones he inhaled earlier in the day really got him going.

And then AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea smells the egg.  Because this is apparently a thing now.  And she acts all confused about the role of the egg in their evening, even though bitch was right there when Emily explained everything, although, in AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's defense, she was probably mentally preoccupied by her forthcoming plan to start stalking Brandon and writing nasty letters to the Blaze and slashing Emily's motorcycle's tires and wearing Minnesota Twins' jerseys and baking U4EA-laced baked goods and attempting to burn down Homecoming floats and then pinning it all of it on Emily to pay attention to what was going on around her.

So then Nat does this and says, "Go. go, go," which is coincidentally the same thing I do whenever he shows up in a scene.  Steve asks Nat if he knows where Alvarado Street is...

...and then RUH ROH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea spills coffee all over the napkin. What high jinks! Also, why doesn't Nat clean up the goddamn counter tops every once in a while so that dirty mug-fulls of hours-old Sanka don't get knocked over?  They don't call him "Worthless Nat" for nothing.

Back at the club, the party, and shit-music, rages on.  The punk rock-looking couple is having a blast, and probably about to smoke some crack.

Kelly, Donna and David dance, as David chugs his Jack.

Over to these two.  Brandon's going on and on and on about how He Will Not Dance, like, dude, I told you, we're ALL okay with that:

A thousand percent.

He goes on to tell her that he'll basically do anything at all in the world as long as she doesn't make him dance, and then Sir Charms here gets some free advertising in when he offers, " I'll let you have the marshmallows outta my Lucky Charms." You sly little leprechaun, you.  Anyway, Emily jokingly informs him, "Haven't you heard? Dancing's the key to popularity."

Brandon points at this guy, standing on the dance floor with a giant 4 subtly emblazoned across his shirt, and says, "What about that guy over there? He's not dancing, he's the most popular guy here." Emily fills Brandon in on the fact that dude deals U4EA, and Brandon is so appalled, he speaks on behalf of himself and the enormous Jesus cross swinging from his neck: "What, he sells it right out here in the open, in front of God and everybody?"

Emily, U4EA connoisseur, tells Brandon, "25 bucks a hit.  It's supposed to be worth it, too.  You've never done it, huh?" No, Brandon's mind-altering substance of choice is either Mucho Mah-velous Mango Margaritas or Purple Pleasures.  Emily says that the drug is really supposed to get rid of your inhibitions, and Brandon tells her, "I like my inhibitions.  I'm used to 'em." Me too.  Because we all know what happens when he decides to let his guard down:

No thank you.

Up come Brenda and Dylan, looking perfect even in the throes of some kind of mania-induced denim psychosis.  Dylan tells the others to, "check out Rico Suavé over there" and cut to...

...David dancing and/or having an epileptic fit of some kind and then shoving the bottle of whiskey in Kelly's face.  Kelly has an appropriately disgusted/irritated reaction, and proceeds to Bitch Face her way over to the others.

She sits down and asks, "Have I infiltrated couple's corner?" She says she feels like a fifth wheel, and Brenda reassures her that, "It's okay to be single." Emily points out the "tons of guys" roaming about the club, and Brenda points out this particularly beefy one:

She describes him as "buff," and Kelly gifts us with one of the best lines from this show, ever: "Brenda, you can see his nipples." Kelly can go home now, seeing as she just dropped all the mics.  Oh, and then Dylan and Brandon rag on mesh shirts and rubber jumpsuits, and it's all very non-comical, so let's just move on.

So then Kelly wants to get all up on ol' U4EA's ballsack here because he's clearly 35 and actually might be Rico Suavé With A Goatee? Brandon, who's apparently an expert in the drug trade now, tells her, "Kelly, he's a drug dealer." Brenda is The Best because she calls him out, all, "Oh, and how would you know, Brandon?" He claims, "I'm a journalist.  It's my job," which doesn't cause the entirety of the club to burst into simultaneous howls of laughter, repeated bouts of dry heaving and uncontrollable rage-tears, but does make me yell at my t.v., "EMILY JUST TOLD YOU HE'S A DRUG DEALER, YOU FUCKING SEMEN STAIN." My neighbors love me.

Once again, though, Brenda's got my back (albeit in a less offensive, less profanity-laced way) and sarcastically asks, "Oh, really, is Jimmy Olsen now investigating the drug scene?" Brandon self-satisfies, "Brenda, I know what's happening," while I attempt to break the space-time continuum and travel back to 1991 to claw the face off of a fictional small-screen character.  Wish me luck!

So then Emily lies and says she sees someone she knows from San Francisco, when in actuality she's going to purchase some scary drugs from a scary stranger-man who's scarily lurking around a scary party inside a scary warehouse.  Which sounds like a wholly great idea to me.  She passes Donna and David on her way, and David tells her to "boogie down," because I don't hate him enough already.  Emily says that she's "not into threesomes" and walks away, while I, in turn, attempt to erase the image of David involved in a threesome by drilling a hole in my right temple, sticking a melon baller inside and scraping my frontal lobe real good-like.

More pan-over shots of everyone dancing, including the go-go girl! Wearing ratty pair of men's white underwear? And shredded heat transfer vinyl on her legs? I guess? Anyway, she's dancing just as gracefully as she was earlier, as you can see.

So then Emily buys the drugs as Blizzard Man dances in the foreground.

To the streets! Where Steve's driving him and AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea in the Corvette.

Steve's ragging on AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea about the coffee spill and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's nerding out over the ruined map-kin (SEE WHAT I DID THERE) and I gotta tell you, I'm actually really digging the chemistry between these two in the moment.  I'm not kidding! Not even necessarily in a romantic way (blech) but I will say that I did enjoy these two's scenes together over the course of the series.  They seriously made each other likable.  Four for you, StAHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  (I don't know.)

Including this one because it's obvious that Steve just caught a glimpse of himself and his hair and his clothes in the rear view, and this is his reaction, which, coincidentally, is my own reaction whenever Steve turns up onscreen.  Also, AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea tells him to stop the car because she thinks they've arrived at the egg-swapping convenience store.  (SPOILER ALERT: They haven't.)

Inside, they hold hands as they approach the counter.  Which I think is cute.  Again, not in a make-them-lovers sort of way (good God) but I'm enjoying their dynamic here.  I wish the show had explored this friendship more, but I guess it wouldn't have been nearly as interesting as story lines revolving around blonde hussies moving in on their best friend's boyfriends or self-satisfied pygmy twats developing snooze-inducing gambling addictions.  Whatever.  Steve informs the store clerk, "I'd like to exchange an egg."

The clerk (played by Marilyn Pitzer, who, if you were a kid in the '80s and '90s, you may recognize from a lot of things, but who I will always fondly remember as Wilma from an episode of Growing Pains) doesn't understand Steve's request, asking if there's something wrong with the egg, and if he has the receipt for the exchange.  AHHHHHHNdrea gets the hint that this may very well be the wrong store, but Steve tells her, "No, no, this is all part of the deal."

And then: "I want to egg." Which Ian Ziering just nails, I might add, facial expressions and all.  Wilma still does not get it, so Steve flatly tells her, "I want information." Wilma fears that these two are already all hopped up on U4EA and says, "Look, I don't know what you kids are on, but I'm callin' the police." Another funny line from Steve: "You know, I think we're in the wrong place," followed by him and AHHHHHHHNdrea scurrying out of the store.

Back to the rave-whatever.  We get this pan up shot through the crowd which leads to Emily sitting back down on the couch with Little Lord Smuggy there.  He tells her that he was afraid she had ditched him (a legit fear he should have every time he goes somewhere with anyone) and asks how her friend is.

She tells him that she didn't see her friend but rather, purchased possibly-methamphetamine-laced drugs from a perfect stranger.  Oddly enough, Brandon seems concerned about this development, telling her that he doesn't do drugs, to which she responds, "Neither do I, but everybody says it's the best way to bring a new couple closer." I'll have to sift through all of my back issues of Cosmo and see if she's right.  She goes on to call it a "love drug," and asks him if he's curious.  He says that he's curious about a lot of things (like what it would be like to clear 5'5") but that, "I have no tolerance for chemicals.  I've tried drinking and I totaled my car." And almost killed a man.  But whatever.

So then Emily pouts because her boyfriend won't do drugs with her.  Which should be Brandon's first indication to peace the fuck out and not give her the opportunity to ply him with U4EA-seasoned chocolate confections in the next episode.  She calls him "Mr. Perfect" (far, far, light years away from it, Em) and "Mr. Squeaky Clean." and asks if there's any way she can satisfy his curiosity and he says, "Sure, if some poltergeist broke into my house in the middle of the night and slipped it under my tongue." Sure.  I mean, who wouldn't do drugs if that happened?

David arrives to plop himself on the couch, wearing his Wynonna Judd-circa-The Judds-era blazer, and ask, "Would you care for some of my refreshing refreshment?" Emily laughs and mocks, "Ha! Boy, did you pick the wrong guy." And then she's off to go buy Brandon a soda that she's going to Mickey and which will cause him to remove his shirt and blind society with his wee little pixie chest.

And these two have a little make out sesh of their own.

I'm not kidding.

These two.  Dancing.  Donna having the exact reaction anyone would have when faced with the prospect of dancing with David.

How were these two not Doing The It while filming the show? HOW.  They are so sexy together.  Just the best, best chemistry.

Rando scene where Kelly approaches a dancing David and Donna and admonishes Donna with, "I told you we shouldn't have brought him."

At the bar, Emily buys sodas to spike, but before doing so, she looks back over her shoulder... this smug little puke and DRUG HIM, EMILY, DRUG HIM TO DEATH.  WHO just sits there alone and smiling to themselves all self-congratulatory-like? WHOOOOOO.  Oh, Brandon Walsh, you say? Which is why I hate his guts and livers? I see.

I hope his is laced with Ajax and ricin and rodent feces.

And I hope that Emily was just in the bathroom fingering her poop chute and failed to wash her hands.

More of Brenda and Dylan being The Best.  Seriously, it gets no better than these two.


Emily sits down, hands him his beverage, they say "Cheers," and then it's bottoms up.  And they also make this really spooky eye contact the entire time they're drinking, which was really unsettling.

As was this.

More Obligatory People Dancing.

More Perfection.

More No One Cares.

These stoned losers are sashaying around the club, rudely interloping on the drug dealer's shot.  Brandon asks, "You know those bumps on top of your tongue? What are they called?" Emily tells him they're taste buds and then he goes into the Drugged Up Television Character Trope of, "I feel really good.  I feel really alive."

So alive that he wants to mash his face all over Emily's face while panting like a revolting pig? Apparently.

Who knew Brandon was a dementor? Also: FUCKING STOP IT.

And then Emily's all, "Haha, stooge - I just drugged you!" Which is really, really messed up, actually.  But I mean - he should've seen it coming.  Look at her hair! He says that he doesn't want to "flip out," Emily tells him that she won't let him and then nobody cares because Brandon isn't convulsing and foaming at the mouth in the back of an ambulance quite yet.  The best part of this exchange is when she, the girl who just slipped her unknowing boyfriend a potentially fatal dose of an illegal drug, advises, "Trust me." Okay.

Back here.  AHHHHHNdrea and Steve argue about the map, with her insisting that Emily could've provided them with a better means of directions and Steve reasoning that nothing was wrong with it until AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea spilled coffee on it.  AHHHHHNdrea then drags Emily, to wit: "I don't wanna be catty, okay? But it is obvious that the only reason she joined the paper was so she could put the moves on Brandon.  I mean, she never gets her stories done on time, they always have to be worked on, I mean it's one this after another..."

Steve interjects here with a "Reeeeeer! Fshhhhh-fshhhhhh!" which on its own is straight-up hilarious, but which also reminds me of the Seinfeld episode, "The Summer of George" where Elaine gets the same kind of response from her male coworkers after she makes a derogatory comment about another female coworker.  Because everything in my life always comes back in some way, shape or form, to a quintessentially '90s' television program.  Because, as previously, and extensively, reported, I am an utter life failure.

So these two haven't gotten old or anything: Donna tells David that she needs to sit, that she's "bushed," which sets David up for a terrible "George or Barbara" Bush joke that I refuse to acknowledge further.  I've gotta have some standards after all (I totally have zero standards).

Brenda and Kelly arrive and David fondles Brenda's face and neck, attempts to ply the rest of them with alcohol some more, again, breathes his whiskey breath all over Dylan and basically reminds everyone that it really should've been him instead of Scott.  Kelly informs the others that they have 45 minutes until "[they] turn into pumpkins." Brenda tells Dylan that they've got to jet, but then Kelly has to go to the bathroom.  Fascinating.

As the girls wend their way through the crowd, they wonder if a joint like this even has a bathroom.  My guess is that even if they do, a urine-marinated back-alley would be a better, cleaner bet.  And then Brenda stops Kelly to point out...

...Brandon "dancing." Which is actually Brandon "making spastic movements with his upper body and holding Emily like it's a 7th grade dance." Slick.

After pawing at each other like a couple of blind opossums, Emily and Brandon head outside, Emily telling him, "Enjoy it, Brandon.  The first time you get a rush is always the best," as they go.  Through his U4-ic (?) haze, he somehow has enough sense to query, "I thought you said you never did it before." Emily smirks and walks ahead...

...leaving him and his sad, lopsided hair to look after her all concerned-like and disturbed.  Not so disturbed that he won't take his top off and sexually assault AHHHHHHHNdrea here in a few minutes.  But still - disturbed all the same.

This.  More griping about the soiled napkin directions.  AHHHHHHHNdrea requests to go home and Steve somehow manages not to break a rib laughing as he asks her, "What about your prize-winning exposé?" She says that she could live the rest of her life without seeing the inside of an underground club and he goes for the kill with, "Well, could you live without seeing Brandon and Emily together?" which puts her in a typical AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea snit wherein she demands he takes her home at once.  Steve says, "Fine, you wanna roll over, play dead, sure." AHHHHHHNdrea asks what she's supposed to do: "I mean, you see the way he looks at her," which, if I were Steve here I might inform her that Brandon looks at Emily that way (smugly? Because that's how he looks at everyone else) because she's his girlfriend, but Steve manages to offer up his own sage wisdom: "That's because she's always in his face.  What you've gotta do is stop apologizing who ya are and get in the game." Good advice, that.  Unfortunately it's completely lost on the hag, whose only response is, "I just saw a guy with spiked hair go into that store carrying an egg." Which I guess is helpful to the evening at large, but I'm afraid she probably missed Steve's miraculously decent advice altogether.  Oh well.

Here.  Kelly and Brenda talk about the grungy bathroom and how awful it was...

...but not nearly as awful as Brenda stepping on some dirty-ass crack paraphernalia...

...nor as awful as looking over and seeing these poorly-dressed scum bags.  Who are smoking the crack, by the way.  So they're terrible on various levels: the guy is terrible because he appears to have a flesh-colored swipe of soft fur above his lip, which is crux of my forthcoming novella Why I Want to Kill Myself; she is terrible because she's clearly stolen Johnny Depp-as-Riff-Raff's hat and is fucking up his signature style royally.  The Catillac Cats would not approve, trash!

Brenda and Kelly hurry over to Dylan, who's taken a seat on our favorite go-go dancer's stage.  Brenda asks him where Brandon is, and rather than answering how I would've answered - "Who the fuck cares?" - he merely says, "I don't know." Kelly tells him that they wanna leave and, "This place is never again," a line that I've wanted to use my entire life since hearing it here, but have never gotten the opportunity to.  I actually probably have gotten the opportunity, I'm just not too swift on the uptake when it comes to actual interaction with other humans.

For some reason, Dylan insists that he won't leave without Brandon.  Kelly tells him, "Fine, go find him, I'm gonna go get some air." Dylan asks Brenda what crawled up Blondie's ass and Brenda breaks it down for him: "Look, people are smoking crack, okay? This place is horrible." Dylan tells his gal to wait outside while he finds the walking, talking bottle of douche that is her brother.

But before he can go on his sprite search, he rounds up these two.  David asks, "How'd they get the room to spin like this?" and everyone watching implores the Lord, the writers, the universe, whoever, to gift them with David's sudden alcohol toxicity-related death.

Dylan and Donna help drag David out of the club, also praying for sweet relief in the form of David's long-overdue demise.  Sadly for them and everyone else on the planet, all that happens is that David runs over to some corner of the parking lot and horks his guts out, which will hopefully lead to some kind of esophageal and voice-box damage, which will then lead to a deeper voice, so that we don't have to deal with the high-pitched cheep that is David's current mode of communication.

Dylan, feigning relief: "Oh, hey.  There is Brandon.  I am so glad we found him.  Whew-we."

MY GOD.  A little warning next time would be much appreciated, show.  Now I have to go pumice my corneas and attempt to defibrillate my now-defunct womanly desires.

Everything about this is made cataclysmically worse by Dylan, who gets all perversely bro-like and SHOUTS across the lot, "All right, dude! Look at that! Parrrrr-ty!" The frat house and rape culture is thataway, Dyl-weed.

Yes, this right here is my reaction to what just happened, as well as what's currently happening, which is hearing each individual splatter of vomit being ejected from David's maw and hitting the pavement.  I will say that whoever in the sound effects department worked on this scene totally deserved an Emmy for this.

Here, Brenda is all of us.  And Kelly antsily whines, "My mom's gonna kill me if I don't beat her home.  She's gonna ground me forever." Brenda tells her to go and Kelly's ready to bounce, but Donna for some reason doesn't think they should leave David behind to die in a puddle of his own sick (WHY DONNA WHY)... Dylan lowers the dink into the back of Kelly's Beemer, Kelly saying as they back out, "Remind me to do this more often." Jennie Garth is killing the bitch-steeped one-liners this episode, I must say.

Next up, it's time to corral these fools and head home, but unfortunately for Brenda and Dylan...

...BRANDON'S NUDE CHEST IS EXPOSED OH THE FUCKING HUMANITY.  And, as mentioned numerous times before, he's donning Emily's leather jacket.  These two act like real jerks, saying they're not ready to leave and, when Dylan asks, "Brandon, are you on somethin', man?" Brandon ensures that my fist is going to make its way through my television screen at any moment by smart alecking, "Yeah, the hood of my car, same as you." This entire scene takes me back to that one time when Brandon was a drunken lout and I didn't think it was possible for me to hate him any more, and then I did. and now that hatred has been far exceeded by the hatred that I'm feeling in this moment and it's really warm and fuzzy, if by "warm and fuzzy" I mean "GOD I FUCKING LOATHE THIS GUY MORE THAN ANY ACTUAL PERSON I'VE EVER MET IN REAL LIFE."

Emily then asks about the scar on Dylan's eyebrow and neither he or Brenda is in the mood for this fuckery, and Brenda's shocked, I tell you, shocked that her brother, who so willingly and easily drank a bunch of alcohol and drove drunk and almost killed a man and acted like a real shit about the whole thing could now have taken drugs and be acting like a real shit about the whole thing.

Brandon assures his sister, "Hey, Bren, relax.  I feel great," and Dylan shoots back, "You feel stoned, man." Brandon, whose ass should've been pounded into fine granuals of prick a long time ago, replies, "Well, you're the expert.  And I mean that in a good way.  You know, you handled your alcohol thing real good." Rather than murdering Brandon right on the spot, Dylan says, "Shut up, man," which really doesn't have the same effect.  Emily says, "So negative.  Really, man," and Brandon adds, "Bad vibes, you guys.  Ouch." Brenda demands that the Mustang's keys be handed over, that she'll drive them home, but Brandon tells her, "No, Bren, I can't do that, because, number one, I'm not ready to leave yet, and number two, no offense, but I've seen you drive and it's not a pretty sight."

Dylan snatches the keys from Emily and hands Brandon money: "Here man, 40 bucks.  Jones, get in a cab." Instead of calling Brandon "Jones" he should've taken the opportunity to pass his friend the money with one hand while sucker-punching the back of his cranium with a right overhand with the other.  Missed opportunity there.  Jones.  And now I need to sucker-punch myself after having just typed that.

As they walk away, Brenda insists that they can't just leave her dick brother behind: "What if he gets in trouble? What if he gets hurt?" Dylan lays down some AA-Approved Real Talk: "You don't get it, do you? He doesn't care.  Not right now, look at him, he's so high, he's king of the mountain.  He's got a girl, everything's fine.  Until tomorrow when he wakes up feelin' like hell and he'll see what an ass he made of himself." Brenda tells him that she thought if anyone was going to do a bunch of Molly and act like an ass, it was Dylan.  He gently reassures her with, "I get tempted.  Every day."

And then this monstrosity happens and Brenda and Dylan, without consuming any alcohol or narcotic of any kind, manage to outdo David by vomiting up their entire digestive tracts, respectively.

As they go, Brandon calls, "Oh, hey, hey, hey! Come on guys! Don't go away mad!" and Emily stands and yells, "Just go away!" Pardon me while I stab my eyes out with Brandon's exposed nipple.  And then lodge my eyeballs in my own trachea so that I stop breathing and die.

Street.  Kelly's agitated because there's no traffic but she's stuck behind "Grandma Moses." Donna tells her that Jackie's never been on time in her life, especially all those times she was coked out and sucking off a bunch of random dudes and probably sleeping in gutters and stuff.  Kelly says, "Don't forget, I have to drop off your friend."

And then the show turns into a horror movie because David appears as if from nowhere in the back seat.  Donna defends him, saying, "He made a mistake," and again, Kelly blesses us with another gem: "No, you made a mistake; he's a dork.  And a puke-meister." Donna, having had her brain completely removed the previous Monday, says, "Yeah...but he's a good dancer." What in the actual fuck.

Immediate cut to Kelly's darkened bedroom.  Kelly and Donna enter and the Terrible Donna Voiceover says, "See? I told you your mom wouldn't be home."

Au contraire, Donna.  Kelly flips on her light and who should be waiting for her but Our Jackie! Back early from whatever orgy what-have-you she was taking part in at Mel's.  Kelly's all, "Uh, hi." Jackie, in turn, says nothing because her withering stare cuts a bitch all on its own.

Finally, Steve and AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea arrive at the club.  She asks, "Is this what they mean by being fashionably late?" Steve almost makes me hate him again by responding, "This is when the hippest of the hip arrive," but then sirens are heard in the background and a bunch of cops walk by the car and he rebounds with, "Actually, I think I've had enough hipness for one evening."

Oh, pleeeeeeease.  AHHHHHNdrea busts out of the Corvette, telling a bewildered Steve, "I'm going inside.  There might be a major story breaking." SIT ALL THE WAY DOWWWWWWWWWN, CHRISTIANE AMAN-BORE.  Christ.

Steve and The Collar That Ate His Mullet tell her, "Are you crazy? I don't wanna get busted!" and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea surprisingly wins me over again with, "What are they gonna bust you for, concealing a hard boiled egg?"

They walk by these two who were apparently 69ing on the car.  Brandon, nipple a-blazing, gracefully slithers himself off the hood, saying, "Hey, hey, hey! I know you guys!" Steve asks after the others but Brandon's only response is to say, "You guys look great.  I've missed you guys," and then to creepishly hug them.  Oh, and then to sexually assault one of them:

"Gimme a little kiss." That Brandon Walsh: What A Catch!

Aaaaaaaaaand here comes AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's lunch, dinner, breakfast and midnight snacks from like, the last 3 weeks.

Ooooo! And then Steve slaps the shit out of Brandon! Except not.  He asks again where the others are and Brandon says he doesn't know.  And then Steve slaps the Smarm Douche right out of Brandon? No.  Because, as we are all well aware of, nothing is powerful enough to slap the Smarm Douche out of Brandon.  Not even Steve's Mullet Eating Collar or AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's vest which was clearly loaned to her by David.  Or Wynonna Judd.  Whatever.

As Emily reminds Brandon that the others took off, we get this stock footage shot of a police cruiser racing down the street in the mid-1970s.

Emily freaks, informing them, "Oh, God, guys, it's a bust.  We gotta get outta here.  We have to get out!" Brandon starts searching around for his keys and Emily tells him, "We don't have time, we gotta go."

He begins rummaging around the car for the keys and then Emily pulls out a baggie of drugs from her jacket, mere feet from law enforcement officials and says, "Look, Brandon, I still have stuff."

Steve sees this, rushes over to her and advises, "Hey, you better get rid of that real quick." Emily tells him, "I paid 50 bucks for this stuff," and Steve, fast becoming my New Favorite Character on this show (don't worry - it won't last), grabs the bag from her hands, tosses it to the ground and says, "Easy come, easy go," then drags her and rat's ass hair the Corvette.  Which only has 2 seats.  But there are now 4 of them.  I guess they'll figure it out.  Maybe some lap-sitting is in their future.  Because that won't be awkward after everything that just went down or anything.

Before bolting, Brandon pulls AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea aside.  And his drug-soused brain must think he's talking to a totally different AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea, because he queries, "Have you ever done U4EA?" AHHHHHHNdrea, incredulous, asks, "I can't believe this - who are you?" Oh, whatever AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  You're just peeved because he only puts the moves on you when he's inebriated.  Because alcohol and drugs are the only way you're tolerable.  I mean, I'm 3/4 of the way through a plastic handle of Royal Gate vodka and hopped up on 'ludes as I type.  And I still think you're a shrew, so whatever.

We end the scene on a zoom-in of Brandon's mug, him confusedly asking, "What'd I say? Hey, what's that?" as AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea stomps away.  I'll take this mega-close-up of him over a glimpse of his teat any day of the week.

House Of Walsh, daybreak.

Inside, Brenda waits for her druggie-loser of a brother to arrive home, and gets up when she hears a car pull out of the driveway.  She looks fantastic here in such a simple look, which I've attempted to emulate over the years, but given the fact that I'm the height of a middle-aged oak tree, the t-shirt doesn't quite lay the same on me as it does on a petite Shannen Doherty.

Enter: the aforementioned druggie-loser.  Brandon asks her what she's doing up and exposits for the viewing audience that it's currently 6 in the morning.  Brenda tells him that every time she heard a car drive by, she'd run to the window, hoping it was the police, come to let the Walshes know that Brandon was finally locked up for good; not on drug charges but rather, for all of his shirtless antics from over the course of the evening, which will be tried as crimes against humanity in a court of law.  Brandon tells her, "Come on.  Don't stare at me like that, I feel like hell."

They sit down and talk about what a good-for-nothing miscreant Brandon is, which I'm all for.  Brenda says, "Mom and Dad trusted us." So much so that they apparently hit the sack at 9 p.m. the night before and don't give a flying fuck that their son is just now arriving home.  Whatever.  He insists he doesn't need a lecture and asks if she told Jim and Cindy anything, which she says she didn't, and then asks, "How could you do that? Is Emily so important to you that you'd do anything for her?" Brandon spills the beans that Emily slipped him the drug, which Brenda doesn't initially believe, given the fact that she witnessed Brandon having no problem tossing his value system aside when Steve was offering up cocktails last season, but he manages to convince her that he was the unwilling victim in all of this and that he wanted to get mad at Emily but that he was too busy molesting her lips with his lips and dry-humping all over the hood of his car and violating AHHHHHHHHHNdrea's personal space.

He goes into this hang-dog soliloquy about how drugs are a big fake-out and that they take away your actual emotions and that he thought was having a bunch of revelations while he was all high and shit, but looking back on it, nothing actually made any sense.  He's right.  Nothing made sense.  Especially this:

And this:

FUUUUCK, AHHHHHHHNdrea and Steve's faces right here.  They belong on a giant poster board in a scientific-study laboratory somewhere, with the caption, "Homo Sapiens Reacting To Walsh, Brandon."

So then of course it's time for these two to get inappropriately close and touchy with each other again.  Brandon says that he's got to be to work at the Peach Pit in an hour, and then requests that Brenda call Dylan to see if he can come pick Brandon up and take him to the deserted Mustang.  Which is in downtown Los Angeles.  Because an hour totally seems like a reasonable amount of time to drive from Beverly Hills to downtown L.A., and then back to Beverly Hills.  Yep.  Why does it bother me so much when they do this? No idea.

Fade to Totally Not Dylan driving Totally Not Brandon back to the PPAD warehouse.

And here are Totally Actual Dylan and Totally Actual Brandon's reactions upon seeing the Mustang...

...which looks like this...

...and this.  And was apparently defiled by some street toughs named Barb and Rude Rose.  My guess is that one of these broads was the mohawked punk chick from earlier.  Also, Brandon: YOU SHOULD BE BEATEN TO DEATH.  Also-also: I like Dylan's boots here.  And his shirt.  And if his jeans weren't currently causing me to bleed out of every orifice on my body and were a darker rinse, his ensemble would be the cat's whiskers.  Brandon's? Is a mound of diarrhea.

And then Brandon's weekend won't be complete with out tongue-bathing everyone around him so these two start macking, but actually, Brandon just talks about how his girlfriend secretly drugging him makes him feel like it drove a wedge between them as a couple.  Really?

Dylan asks how Brandon's going to break the news of the car destruction to "Jimbo" and Brandon says, "There's no lie big enough to cover this one.  Have to tell him the truth," and then he looks at Dylan like this and adds, "Ouch," while Dylan exhales, shakes his head and makes this face.  And then they make out.  I assume.

To Casual Jim in the kitchen of the H.O.W. we go! He asks, "Brandon, what were you doing downtown at 2 in the morning?" Maybe he should also ask, "And aren't you about 3 hours late for work right about now?"

Brandon, Brenda and Cindy sit 'round the table.  Brandon explains that they went to a club, and when Cindy questions, "I thought you kids said you were going to a movie," Brandon tells her that the plans changed, which is Jim's cue to tell him, "I'll say they did; a lot of things are gonna change around here after last night." Change, as in Brandon's going to be sent away to some kind of military academy/forced labor camp? Yes?

Jim eventually gets around to asking why Brandon had to leave his car.  Brandon says that he was "too out of it" and topless to drive.  Jim thinks this means Brandon was drinking again, but Brandon assures his father that he wasn't; rather, he did a bunch of some kind of ecstasy knock-off.  Which should really allay Jim's fears, I think.  He tells them someone put U4EA in his drink, which Jim doesn't buy, saying, "I don't believe that anybody 'slipped' you anything."  Brandon asks for a little credit: "I may do a lot of idiotic things [no argument here], but taking drugs is not one of them."

Cindy is fearful that her son's drug usage "could've been lethal or led to some sort of psychosis." If only, Cindy.  If only.  Brandon tells her to not go overboard and then we learn that Our Cindy apparently ran with a much faster crowd in her University of Minnesota days: "I'm not.  There were plenty of drugs around when I was in college.  I've seen a few casualties myself." Cindy has lived, you guys.

Brandon says that he's fine but has a killer headache, which he proves by placing his hand to his head.  Jim demands to know who drugged his kid, but Brandon plays dumb (an effortless task for him, I might add) and says that he doesn't know.  So the doorbell rings...

...Brenda goes to answer it and OH IT IS ON.  What's odd here is that Brenda does not ask Emily why she stopped at Coldwater Creek to pick up that vest before stopping by.  That would've been my first question.  Instead, Brenda's is, "What are you doing here?" Emily kind of acts like a cunt, sniping that Brenda shouldn't be upset with her.  Brenda asks, "Did you see Brandon's car out there?" because getting the car towed back to the house would've definitely taken less than an hour.  With time to spare, no less! Anyway, Emily's says that she saw it and that she feels terrible and then she breezes by Brenda, because entering someone's house without permission, after drugging their brother into oblivion the previous evening, isn't impolite at all.

My thoughts exactly, Brenda.

Back to the kitchen, where Cindy asks Emily if she knows what happened re the doping of Brandon.  Emily takes the path of ALL THE LIES and says, "Poor Brandon, he was high as a kite.  I had to spend all last night just reelin' him in." And then when Brenda asks, "Why didn't you drive him home, Em?" Emily throws Brenda under the bus with, "Because you took his keys when he threatened to drive, don't you remember, Brenda? And then you disappeared with Dylan." Before Brenda can come for a bitch, Jim semi-loses his shit and asks, "You left him there alone last night, Brenda?!?" FUCK OFF JIM.  AND EMILY.  They both deserve to be shanked.  Luckily (and amazingly!) Brandon defends Brenda's actions, telling them, "She knew Emily was taking care of me," which makes me like him for a second, but then I hate him again when he makes like he works in a coal mine for the thrillionth time and says, "Don't worry, I'll pay for everything.  That's what my life is about: working my butt off to pay for the damage I inflict on my car." And yes, you guessed right: I can't even.

And then he leaves the table to go get ready for his slave labor job as a fucking waiter and makes everything the worst it could ever be by stripping his shirt off in the foyer like a goddamn inbred hillbilly.

Emily follows him upstairs, where she finds him in his room holding his head, which again, is how he denotes that he has a headache.

Emily attempts to soothe him by kissing his neck (yech), but he understandably pushes her and her bad vest away, saying, "You can't fix it like that!" Emily reminds him of the great time he had the night before and that she was merely trying to loosen him up.  And then she wins no points from anyone anywhere with, "I had no idea you'd get so bent outta shape." Because unknowingly being drugged by someone you trust and care about shouldn't make you mad at all.  Good grief, Brandon - lighten up, you square!

And normally I'd want to punch this face right here in the face, repeatedly, but I'll let it slide this time seeing as Brandon has every right in the world to be mad-pissed about what Emily did.  He asks how he would ever be able to trust her again and informs her, " All you got outta me was a chemical reaction, that's it." Ooo, burn.

Emily lamely apologizes again and insists that she'll pay for the repairs to his car.  But Brandon, and Aaron Neville and Aaron Neville's Mole, are in no mood for her excuses, and Brandon tells her, "I don't want your money, Emily.  In fact...I don't want anything to do with you." Emily shrieks, "Can't I make a mistake? Not everyone's as perfect as you are, Brandon!"

Brandon's response is this, which in and of itself is a dirty lie, seeing as he does think he's perfect.  And also, I could present a litany of things he's been dishonest about over the course of the series so far, but whatever.  All that would do is prove to you guys that I am, in fact, a bigger loser than you ever could've imagined.

Brandon tells her that he needs some time to sort everything out and Emily again reminds him of all the schmoopy crap he said to her the night before: "You said 'I have never had such intense feelings for any girl in my life.'" And then Brandon picks up all the mics that Kelly previously dropped and drops them again after he says, "Yeah, well, I musta been on drugs." Also: He looks pretty dreamboat-y here, even after a night of hardcore drug usage.

Emily, however, appears to still be drugged-out, as indicated by her hair and choice in vest-wear.

Peach Pit.  AHHHHHNdrea walks in.  She tells Brandon that she's glad he's okay and that if he ever wants to tell her what happened the night before she's "all vagina ears."  He asks her, "What do you do when you find out that someone you care for isn't the person you thought they were at all?"  Oh, criminy and then she says, "Brando, there's something I wanna show you."

And then AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's apparently allowed back in the kitchen of what's supposed to be a sanitary restaurant, because she takes him to the stove and does the whole "this is your brain on drugs" PSA that was big back in the day with an egg,

Ohh! And then Brandon is just so clever because he takes a spatula and scrambles the eggs and says, "And this is your brain on drugs after a Friday night with Emily Valentine." Wicked burn! Except not at all.  So then AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's all, "Any questions?" even though I'm assuming that it's her who has at least a couple of questions for Brandon, namely, "WILL YOU LOVE ME NOW???" and "WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME NOW???" and one that's really more of a statement than an inquiry: "LOVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE."

Brandon has one of his own, though: "Yeah, can I get some bacon and toast with this?" and then we get this cheesedick shot of them grinning at each other and AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea shakes her head and we fade to black thinking that maybe these two have a shot at love after all.  Except that they totally don't.  Fin.

Let's meet back here next time for more of Emily Loses Her Shit in "My Desperate Valentine." Sound like fun?

(As a sidebar that I assume no one but me cares about: I'm in the process of figuring out how to move the blog over to a different platform - probably Tumblr.  As you are all very well aware, the spacing issues in Blogger make my blog look like barf-coated garbage (more so, I mean) and I just CANNOT anymore.  It looks decent in draft form and then the moment I hit "publish" it all goes to hell and resembles ancient pictograms followed by a bunch of filthy, rambling script that may or may not relate to the picture above or below it.  So hopefully, with a little help from my boyfriend and Benjamin - who I've decided to forgive after the whole I-relate-to-David-Silver debacle - I think that I can actually make something that's aesthetically appealing.  Or tacky as fuck.  We'll see.)


  1. I just can't tell you how happy I was to see this post waiting for me when I went to check your blog this morning. Which means I also can't tell you just how sad my life is. A few random thoughts, and then a story:

    1) In that shot with Mr. Tangerine Shirt Oldness, I see a girl wearing boots over jeans. Was that a thing then? I already have a problem with what a thing it is and has been for the past 5 years or so, but now I realize it could be all the worse things in the world if people were doing it with acid-washed slouchy jeans. U to the GHHHHH.

    2) So they sell smog in LA (according to Google Street View of the rave location)? I guess when you have a lot of something, you might as well try to make a dime off of it.

    3) This episode was sponsored by the Texas Tuxedo.

    4) I vividly remember watching this episode when it first aired and I just loved the Steve and AHHHHHHHHNDREA exchanging an egg scene. Like it literally made me laugh out loud. And now, as a, ummm, woman in her mid-20's, it still cracks me up.

    5) Maybe your belief that those hot sluts Brenda and Dylan were doing the it during filming isn't so far off, according to this:

    6) Now I just wanna listen to this song over and over:

    7) I'd like to think AHHHHHHHHNDREA was taking a shot at Steve's teeny tiny peenie when she said he was guilty of concealing an egg.

    And now, a story about mock turtlenecks. My sister's husband is not one to care about fashion. Case in point: he occasionally wears the mock. My sister had complained heartily about it to me from time to time. One Christmas, when we were all convened together at my parents' house, she took the opportunity to make fun of me for something (more than likely either my misunderstanding as a pre-teen that Bob Dole was Native American or the time that a dog peed on my very smelly shoes--those are stories for another time) and, wanting retribution, I decided to pull her husband aside and tell him of her hatred of the mock. Knowing him, I was aware that it would not be upsetting in any way, but instead a challenge to now expand his mock wardrobe. And expand it he did. He went out the next morning (on Christmas Eve, so you can see how dedicated he was to this endeavor) and bought enough mocks that he could wear them for the remainder of the trip. Ahhh...sisters. That's what they're for: torture.

    In conclusion, in the hopes of winning the contest you haven't even created yet, and in light of the fact that I don't have Instagram, Twitter, or much of any social media presence, here's what I believe is a great picture of a turd that looks like a historical religious figure:

  2. This episode recap is everything! Yay!

  3. hi, carly!! first time commentor, long time reader. just wanted to (finally) thank you for this blog.. as a 34 year old male who is addicted to BH90210 reruns like thoz crackheads at the 'underground rave' are addicted to rocks, this blog makes re-watching eps super fun again.. some of the shit you spew, especially toward brando? ha! fuggin hilarious. anyway, keep up the good work.. even though I'll probably be well into my 40's by the time the 'my desperate valentine' recap is finally published. I tease, of course.
    ps- thank u for turning me onto lizzie & kat! between your blog & their webcast, I don't feel nearly as nerdy about my closet 90210 love as I once did. finally, I'm amongst friends. =]

    1. John - thanks so much for reading and now commenting. It's so great to hear from the readers. As I've said before, BH, 90210 is my equivalent of Star Wars or Some Other Nerdlinger Thing is to others. And it's a delight to find others who feel the same :). And yes, The Blaze podcast rules. Thank you again for hanging around! (I promise the next post is nearing like, February?)

  4. Sooo I'm obsessed w/ the Blaze podcast and I'm so thrilled to have learned about this fabulously dark corner of the interwebs. You are brilliant.

    1. Erika! You are too kind. Yes, The Blaze gals are amazing; they put on a great show, week after week. Thanks for reading!

  5. Emily Valentine …. her hair. Her greasy greasy god awful Billy Idol inspired terrible style! Has to be the WORST hair ever on 90210. No, no – worst hair ever on TV!

    …. And THEN she shows up in season 5 with what can only be described as the ass end of some weird miniature dog breed! I lost it – it was THE funniest hair I think I have ever seen, and this on a show with dorky bowl of soup with her haircut band girl in the opening credits West Beverly High shots AND with Steve mutha-fucking Sanders and his curly pube brillo-fro! Good holy God what in the hell would ever possess someone to do that to themselves? And who around her EVER told her ‘hey, THAT is a GOOD LOOK on you?!?!

    1. .... and now I TOO HATE BRANDON WALSH as he actually is 'conflicted' between his super hot girlfriend who is perfect for him, and this dogs ass haired ugly skank ... somehow. How this could EVER happen in real life?? No clue! He would have taken one look at her hair, laughed his ass out, and peaced the fuck out of there!

      Maybe it had to do with the fact that, for some reason, Jason Priestly was dating this atrocity in real life .... and maybe it was HIS IDEA for her to get that hilarious haircut!