Part 3 of Season 3, Episode 4: Sex, Lies and Volleyball / Photo Fini - Please. No more volleyball on which I poorly provide play-by-play commentary. What's that, you say? There's another whole part to recap after this one? And it ALSO includes volleyball? *begins silently weeping*

 Have a look-see: Part 1; Part 2.

And now you're all caught up and can dive into Part 3 with vim and vigor and dread because Steve is a true piece of shit within the first ninety seconds.  Check it!

We open with these two in the middle of a conversation and Steve laughing like a goon and saying, "What? Wait a minute, are you trying to tell me that you and Donna still haven't done the nasty?" I want off this planet.  For a variety of reasons but let it be known that this right here was my coup de grâce.

Buffoon David asks buffoon Steve to keep his voice down: "It's not that I don't want to.  It's just that Donna wants to wait until she's married." Steve, a pig, responds, "Then what's the problem? If this girl Nikki wants it from you, which personally makes me question her sanity, then go for it." What a grand friend to Donna, someone to whom we've been told he's been close for many years.  With friends like him, you should probably voluntarily commit yourself to an institution to undergo extreme psychological analysis and gain the tools to extract such toxicity from your life for good.

Unfortunately, he's far from done: "First of all, Donna may wanna be a virgin until she's married, but finally, when she decides to do it, she's not gonna want some inexperienced bozo.  And second, Donna is in Paris, remember? She's probably got French dudes crawlin' all over her." After David insists Donna would never do that - bang someone behind his back...you know, like he's going to do to her several times over during the course of the series - Steve puts on an exaggerated French accent and advises, "While ze cat is away, ze mice will play." I'll bet you if Steve got a brain scan, nary a gyri or sulci could be found.  Also: I'm offended not only on behalf of French people everywhere, but also humanity as a whole.

From a few yards away, Brooke appears: "Steve! Game time!"

Steve, the lamest man to ever walk to the earth: "Ooo, excuse me, lame-o.  I've got some scoring of my own to do.  Mm!" Let us know how that turns out for you, you definition-of-shame-come-to-life.

And then he and his not at all a 17-year-old boy's torso run toward Brooke and head to their match up.

Here.  Dylan plays catch with a volleyball net.

Kelly arrives in an outfit that, while not my current-day style, was a true game-changer for me as a kid.  They greet each other in this very stilted way; I don't know if something got left on the cutting room floor, but from the brief glimpse we got of their hangout the previous evening, nothing really happened.  Other than Kelly overhearing Dylan's latest installment of The Sad Sack Soliloquies, but he didn't know she was privy to that, so...? I'm unclear.

Whatever; Kelly thanks him for keeping her company whilst babysitting the demon Silver progeny and Dylan incurs my ire by pulling out an exhausted excuse of a Rick Blaine impression: "Anytime, schweetheart." Time to schedule that cochleae removal surgery I've been saving up for.

These two.  Steve warns, "Prepare to meet your doom." I would venture to say that anyone who's had the misfortune of crossing paths with Steve has already met their doom, but okay.

Dylan and Kelly manage to look afraid instead of laughing in Steve's face about everything he's wearing, with Dylan advising her, "Somethin' tells me our winning streak may have just come to an end."

V-ball shenanigans.

Dylan dives after Steve's serve and face-plants into the sand...

...then Kelly comes over to flirt and giggle and help him up.  Gag.

These two follicly-challenged dweebs high-five each other.

More inappropriate touching/teasing...

...Steve serves...

...these two don't even try but continue to playfully jab each other...

...underhand serve...

...more whiffing of the ball and grating banter.

Brooke makes hand signals to Steve behind her back, which some may interpret as her way of covertly and wordlessly communicating plays and strategy to him, but those people would be wrong.  Let me elucidate things with what she was actually attempting to convey to him here: Please stop hitting on me.  It's gross - look in a reflective surface at your hair and clothing choices and also give a thought to your personality - and making me extremely uncomfortable and if you fucking didn't understand after last night that I have subzero interest in you, and am instead super warm for the form of your bombastic-but-light-years-more-tolerable bestie, then you should probably seek some kind of existential guidance and reevaluate how you live your entire goddamn life.  You profound fool.  All that with just a few movements of her fingers! Fascinating!

Can this please stop? Steve serves...

...Kelly and Dylan cartoonishly and simultaneously dive for the ball and miss...

...Steve and Brooke have won! and he picks her up and spins her around and she gets nauseous, not from the spinning but from the being-touched-by-Steve of it all.

..flirt flirt fuck off flirt.

The winners approach the net and Steve says, "Better stick to surfin', dude," then smirks and walks to the sidelines.  I hope someone kicks a pile of urine sand in Steve's face before episode's end.

Brooke tells him that she chose the right partner in him, and he agrees: "You better believe it.  We're practically in the finals."

As she leans against the net pole, she reminds him, "Where I come from, it ain't over 'til it's over."

Siiiiiiiigh.  Here we go.  Some good ol' unwanted advances, which are Steve's specialty: "That doesn't mean we can't have our own private celebration.  My mom's out of town and I just happen to know where she stashes the Dom Perignon."  Nothin' like getting the ladies all liquored up and taking advantage of them in their altered state.

Thank bejesus Brooke sets some very clear and concise boundaries - not that it will matter - with this idiot: "Steve...you're a great guy.  You really are.  And I like you..."

Before she can finish, Steve gets his Sad Clown(hair) face on and at long last understands that he can't make Brooke like him, saying, "As a friend.  It's Brandon, isn't it?" Yes, yes, ONE THOUSAND TIMES yes, you were at the fucking Peach Pit you witnessed IT ALLLLLLL.

Brooke doesn't answer him because she's as mesmerized by his utter stupidity as I am, and merely stares.

He walks away - be gone - Brooke calls after him; he turns back and tells her, "I'll see ya at the finals."

Brooke forces herself to look semi-dejected but we all know she's thrilled, so, whatever.

Styro France.

Inside Brenda and Donna's room.  The latter asks, "What, are you mad at me?" Brenda tells her, "I'm not even sure I know you anymore."

Donna, with the biggest HAIR I've possibly ever seen - and wearing a dress that is bordering on ridiculous and that I will never NOT adore to my core - brushes her friend's concern for her off with a laugh and a, "You are so dramatic."

As Donna sits on the bed and puts her shoes on, Brenda stands over her and tries to lay down some sense: "I'm dramatic? You're running away to become a French fashion model, and I'm dramatic?!" Donna asks for her friend to be happy for her but Brenda cannot: "Happy? Happy that you're dropping out? That you're not even gonna graduate high school? Donna, I'm in shock!"

Donna insists that she'll do it eventually - she'll take a proficiency exam (how very this-coded); and after Brenda says, "You know, your parents are never gonna let you do this," Donna gets her back up slightly and snarks, "You've done things your parents haven't approved of."

She crosses the room to the vanity and begins combing the ends of her HAIR as Brenda continues to try to snap her out of her rose-colored Parisian fantasy: "Donna, you hate it here.  All I've been hearing from you is how you're never gonna learn to speak French and now you wanna live here?" Donna says she'll get to travel all of Europe and make her own money, that she earns herself.

And then she brings the mood down to the gutter: "I can be more than the dummy who can't keep up with her smart friends.  This is my chance to stand out, to achieve something." Well, that's fucking depressing.

Brenda: "And what about David?" Me: "Who the fuck cares, truly?" Brenda some more: "Or doesn't he matter now that Pierre is interested in you?" I mean, David never matters, but I get what she's saying.

Donna is of course oblivious, informing Brenda, "Pierre is interested in me professionally, not romantically.  He's married and has two kids.  I've seen the pictures!"

And then Brenda proceeds to punch her in the face with some home truths: "Donna, I hate to say this, but that didn't stop your parents." Yikes.  Accurate.  But yikes.

Donna doesn't take too kindly to this reminder of her mother's literal fuckery with a really noxious dude, and as the Serious Synth begins humming in the background, she spits back at Brenda, "You know, you must be really jealous of what's happening to me to throw that in my face." Brenda tells her that she's sorry; that she doesn't want to see her get hurt.  Donna and her HAIR and garden party of a dress inform her, "Well, it's too late.  You already have"...

...before turning, grabbing her purse and slamming out of the room.

Brenda can only sigh, knowing that in the next episode she's going to meet a true cardboard cutout of a man and will have to feign with him 1) a horrifically-executed French accent; and 2) that she's attracted to him in any capacity.  It's gonna be a real slog, for me and her.

Beach Club dining area. Brooke is on the prowl.

With a spooky, starry-eyed glaze, she approaches Brandon talking to and guffawing with the Parents' Walsh! First sighting this episode! And boy, do they just kill it.  Not really, but I will say, it's nice to see them.  I needed that brief break from Jimbo and his Male Rage.

Brandon introduces Brooke to Cindy and Jim and mentions that she's a "fellow Minnesotan," and then all of them orgasm in concert as visions of hotdish and a frozen-over Lake Minnetonka dance in their heads.  Brooke takes a portable air pump to Brandon's dome once more and informs them, "You've got a very industrious son." He's really not, Brooke.  I know you're desperate to get into those ill-fitting, diaper-insert BHBC-issued shorts of his, but I need you to calm down.

The elder Walshes leave to go, I don't know, hide in a dark room until they're back in regular scene rotation a couple of episodes from now, and Brandon turns to head back to work to further the illusion of his industriousness in Brooke's eyes.  She follows him, still smiling like a haunted doll, pointing out, "You didn't call me last night."

Brandon lies and says that he "crashed out early." She asks when he gets off and I say, "When is he not fucking off? He works a total of eighteen minutes per shift.  And that's rounding up from eight." But he fibs further with, "Whenever I'm done, usually about 7."

She asks him if he wants to take a ride up the coast once he's done...

...and he flashes that million dollar smile of his, looking down and saying, "Uh...I would really like to, but, uh...Steve is my best friend, and he really likes you."

Brooke then provides me with a screenshot that encapsulates my feelings about most every man on this godforsaken show, saying, "But I don't like him.  I mean, not in that way." Brandon doesn't really have a response to that, and she continues: "So, fine.  You won't go out with me, and I won't go out with him, and we'll all be unhappy.  How's that sound?"

Brandon says it sounds terrible, and after Brooke tells him not to worry about Steve - "I told him I wasn't interested in dating him" - she asks after their drive up the coast again, to which Brandon responds, "I think that'd be nice." It's all fun and games until the Bad Hairdo you're dating shows her true, repulsive colors, but I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it - next episode? I think we get some sprinkles of her intolerance as Brandon's dealing with the unhoused guy on the beach.  Nothing like starting your relationship off with some good old fashioned aporophobia!

Over here: Kelly in her cute dress with her cute bag approaches her cabana.

She arrives - there are no curtains closed or shades drawn or anything, meaning that the ENTIRE WORLD has the ability to peer in and observe what's going down, like, way to brazenly announce to the whole of the Beach Club that you're cheating on your girlfriend - and stands, shocked, at what she sees:

I am shocked, also, but in addition to that, projectile vomiting everywhere.  Kelly's stomach is much steelier than mine, I guess.

Kelly, who will soon not have a singular leg on which to stand, shoots David and Nikki a filthy look, grabs something from the table and storms out.

David untangles himself from Nikki (yick) and runs after her: "Look, I can explain, okay?"

Kelly whips around and demands, "Is that your secret admirer, David? Does she know you have a girlfriend?"

David, pissed FOR NO FUCKING REASON: "You're the one who told me about all French guys Donna's been hanging out with." Good god, these men are reptiles.

Kelly tells him, DUH, she was fucking kidding when she said that: "I didn't mean for you to jump in the sack with the next tramp who came along." Okay, let's slowwwwww down there, ma'am.  Taking the whole Kelly-and-Dylan comparison off the table, DAVID is the one cheating on his girlfriend, and - as far as we've seen onscreen, anyway - has not told Nikki that he even has a girlfriend.  So Ms. Witt is far, far from a "tramp," and also, Kelly: you're about to look real real bad, real real soon.

ANYWAY, David miraculously defends Nikki from the tramp label, but then loses me completely when he follows that up with, "I know this may be hard for you to believe but she thinks I'm sexy." Yes, it is hard for me to believe.  Ripley's Believe it or Not levels hard.  But, like, with only the "or not" part.

Kelly then states something that's going to age like already-expired-by-three-days milk: "Do you wanna know what 'sexy' is, David? 'Sexy' is a guy who can go three weeks without being unfaithful to his girlfriend." My only response can be this.  Before leaving him in the dust, she lays on him something that will be a a cold, hard fact through Season goddamn 10 of this show: "You have a lot to learn about women, David."

FULL DAYLIGHT Beach Club parking lot.  Decidedly not 7 p.m.  I understand it stays light later in the summer, but not like this, like 3 p.m. skies above.  

They're back from their vehicular coastal excursion.  I love Brandon's shirt so, so much.

She starts to exit, but Brandon is a boar, and climbs over the seat behind her and opens the door.  Put some damn respect on my dream car, you beast.  As Brooke stands, the spirit of, like, Bunny MacDougal takes over her and she declares, "How gallant!"

They discuss their "great time" together, but when Brooke leans in for a smooch, Brandon turns his cheek and laughs.

She's slightly taken aback, claiming, "Well, this is a first.  Most of the time, I have to wrench guys away with a crowbar."

She goes on: "You know what I think? I think that you and Steve should go out together...I'm serious.  You two look great together, he's a great volleyball player, and his mom's away for the weekend..." and before she can finish...

...this assault occurs, like, what the FUCK...

...and he demands, "Will you shut up already?"...

...and then: he takes her to Tongue Town.

Like, he reeeeeeeally gets in there with that thing...

...and I gotta say I've never been happier for a fade to black.  I would prefer being blinded by a solar eclipse and having my eyes melt and dribble out of their sockets right now, but fade to black it is.

One more to go.  Get your Sideout t-shirt out of storage because the recap is going to be absolute BUTTER, brah. (I apologize to a host of communities, as well as my family and friends.)