Season 2, Episode 21: Everybody's Talkin' 'Bout It - Let's Get Schooled On Safe Sex Practices, '90's-Stylezzzzzz. Which Means We'll Hear The Word "Condom" Spoken 57 Times Per Scene. That'll Do.

In which take it away, Salt-N-Pepa:

No, but seriously.  Let's.

We open here...

...and then we're in the living room, where we see the backs of the following heads: Cindy, Jim, Brenda, Dylan, AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea and her rat's ass...rat's ass, and Brandon's, who's sitting on the floor where he belongs.  They're immersed in some news report on the television, which goes a little something like this: "You've heard the old expression 'children should be seen and not heard'? Well, now there's a government survey that wants to know what kids have to say on a variety of subjects, but one of those subjects has some people up in arms.  Evan Eber reports."

And then AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea like, NERD SPEWS all over everyone, "Oh! This is it! This is it! Turn up the sound!" You're in someone else's house, bitch! Have some manners.

Onscreen, there are various shots of campus-y-looking places and a voice over of the reporter: "Many of the questions pertain to sex, and therein lies the controversy.  Critics contend the government-funded survey promotes a message that casual sex is okay."

As he speaks, we get more shots of students walking around, and protester-types holding up signs that say things like, "SEXPERTS GO HOME!!" which mostly reminds me of this and if these so-called "SEXPERTS" are anything at all like Carrie Bradshaw, then, yes, please do go home.  Because you clearly suck at your job and are annoying.

Here's a shot of 27-year-olds-parading-as-17-year-olds coming down a staircase, that shitty dweeb John Griffin from a few earlier episodes among them.

Another shot of signs with some wicked burns on them, including one that reads, "CASUAL SEX KILLS" and another, ""SIN SURVEY = SINFUL WASTE." These people better step up their protest sign game if they ever want to work their way up to protesting homosexuals' funerals on behalf of the Westboro Baptist Church.  The reporter continues: "They claim that teen pregnancy, AIDS, and other consequences of adolescent sexual behavior cannot be prevented unless we know something about the behavior itself." The behavior itself being...? Teenagers are horny?

On the screen, Mrs. T!...

...followed by this middle-aged lady, who must be a school counselor or perhaps a teacher at West Bev or...oops.  It's just AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  My bad.

AHHHHHH: "I look awful!" *crickets, a squeaky door opening and shutting, someone coughing, as no one disagrees with her* Finally, the uncomfortable silence is too much for Cindy to bear and she provides an over-the-top, "Oh, you do not!" that no one believes anyway.

Dylan, again grabbing the much-lusted after Line Of The Episode prize with this gem: "How come I don't see your bones up there, squeef?" of Brandon.

Brandon points to the t.v. and says, "There I am! Right there! That's my elbow, right there! See?" Everyone leans in for a closer look because Brandon is a lying sack of shit.  Brenda attempts to soothe her brother's ego with, "We could see your whole face if the sign wasn't luckily covering it."

And then this Rando Man who's WEARING A POLKA DOT ASCOT, because he apparently had to get himself all fancied up for the protest, addresses the issue: "Our public health is not served by prying into every corner of our children's lives."

Shot of AHHHHHHHHNdrea, SHDH as Ascot finishes up: "This is a wrongful allocation of taxpayer money, and we think the department should freeze the funding immediately."

Then we finally see Evan Eber, as he ends his story with a wooden, "No matter what happens tomorrow, one thing remains clear: when it comes to the issue of teenage sexuality, everyone's passion can become inflamed." Gross.  And: Evan, you're terrible at job.

So Brandon is sad that he "ended up on the cutting room floor," and Jim reassures him with, "Better luck next time, champ." It's pronounced chump, Jim.  Chump.  And then the Boring Old People are off to bed, and I'm not quite sure why AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea didn't join them.  Also, Brandon, like a boor, sits on the arm of the sofa with his feet on the seat.  And no one says anything, maybe because they're all oblivious, but most likely because he's a known asshole and they're not in the mood to deal with it.

And then Brenda and Dylan start making out, like, he sort of ROLLS ON TOP OF HER AND WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FREAK SHOW FUCKING FUCK IS THIS FUCK??? HER BROTHER IS RIGHT THERE.  Number of times I made out with my high school boyfriend in front of my brother? Well, I didn't have a high school boyfriend until I was almost out of high school, but that's beside the point.  The answer would've been zero.

Brandon fronts like he's not going to be masturbating to this image later and awkwardly asks of AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea, "So, uh, staff meeting first period tomorrow, huh?" and she's all, "Yeah," and he's all, "Great," and she's all, "Great," and I'm all, "Fuuuuuuuck."

And then these pigs continue to make out IN FRONT OF HER BROTHER and I'm physically ill right now.  Physically ill.

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

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

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

Oh, no big.  That's just my Dylan and Brenda dolls, hanging out on my coffee table.  YOU GUYS.  I have The Greatest Boyfriend Ever. SEEEEEEEEERiously.  He buys me things like this and isn't constantly backing away from me all slowly or even caring that I call him Dylan sometimes all the time.  Wait, what? I didn't just say that.  Nope.  Moving on to this ever-engrossing episode...

...in which Sad-Sack Dylan sad sacks around sad sackily and works my last nerve.  But not nearly as much as Brandon, who reaches "Higher Education" levels of shitbaggery with all of his pseudo-Hardy Boy antics and shoutily accusing people of things they didn't do, with a bunch of assumptions and little-to-ZERO evidence, in addition to his par-for-course Deflection Of Blame And Accountability, all "B.Y.O.B" StyleZ.  How Brandon has gotten this far in life without being scalped or imprisoned for crimes against humanity with all of his disloyalty and general Smarm Douchiness is beyond me.  ANYhow, nothing else really happens in this one.  Steve wears a fake handlebar mustache, which helps absolutely nothing.  Brenda gets sunburned, because that makes for compelling T.V.  Worthless Henry nearly surpasses Worthless Nat in the Worthlessness Department.  And Kelly's been banished to "Newport Beach," which means we don't have to deal with her embarrassingly flinging herself at homosexuals or baby-talking her way through her scenes for an entire episode! REJOICE! And, LET'S DO IT.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Season 2; Episode 3: Summer Storm - The Grand Tradition Of Parental Dereliction In Beverly Hills Continues. And Our Long National Nightmare Of An Episode Where Brandon Is The Focal Point (Meaning The Previous Episode) Comes To Harrowing End.

First and foremost, I want to send a massive shout-out to my Homie For Life Benjamin, who came to Los Angeles from San Francisco last weekend for a visit, and presented me with The Most Amazing Gift Ever:

Yes, my friends know me spookily well.  And yes: within this adorable box (which has become like, my everything) are baked goods straight from his kitchen.  These heavenly slices are called "Banana Walsh" (for my beloved "Brenda Walsh")  HULLO FUCKING AWESOMENESS YOU GUYS which is Nutella (he had me at "Nutella") swirled banana bread.  Trust me when I tell you he's an EXTREMELY talented baker, and these little wedges of perfection are just the tip of the iceberg as far as his abilities with food goes.  But he seriously could've put his dog Blue's hardened feces inside the box and I would have still blown a load over it.  Also, just like one Brandon Walsh, I was a Life Ruiner and was ultra-death-sick last weekend.  My stomach is a shifty bitch who will end a good time before it's even started, and because I ate, like, a Rolo with a side of air, I wrecked our plans of drinking a lot of the hooch and...drinking a lot of the hooch.  Instead, we stayed in and watched Mean Girls 2 (which is just as terrifyingly wretched as you think it will be); She's All That (FILMED AT WEST BEV...meaning Torrance High School, but it will always be West Bev to me - GO WILDCATS! Also: fucking kill me, please), which I never realized or didn't care about the one time I saw it back in the hazy, halcyon days of 1999, when I was wearing track pants in public and topping them off with part-mesh, dragon-print shirts.  Next up was Clueless - a classic, obvs - filmed at Occidental College, which was also the filming location for...you guessed it! Beverly Hills, 90210 Goes To College.  Absolutely gripping tidbits of information, I know.  What does any of this have do with anything? Nothing, actually.  It just further proves the theory that the inside of my head is basically like the inside of Homer's brain, only instead of black-and-white cartoon characters playing "Turkey In The Straw" it's pretty much a continuous reel of this with the first few chords of the BH, 90210 theme song in the background:

ARE WE QUITE DONE HERE, you ask? Yes, I think so.  I also wanted to mention to the reading audience at large that I really appreciate all the comments on my blog posts.  I may not respond to them because I am a lazy sack of dicks, but I will attempt to be better about acknowledging them.  Just know that my favorite thing to do (besides writing about this show and watching a lot of Seinfeld) is be asleep.  So that kind of takes up the majority of my time.  ANYOHMYGODGETAMOVEONITWAY, on with the show...

...in which Brenda's sort of a cunt, Dylan's parents are shady as fuck, Brandon gets very little screen time (HOORAY), Steve breaks out both The Steve SAUNders Summer Special AND his trusty belly shirt (HEAVEN HELP US), I actually feel kind of sorry for Kelly (even though she squeals, giggles and baby-talks her way through most of her scenes) and Donna and David fall even further down the rabbit hole of their awful, jacked-up relationship which we will only be spared from NINE SEASONS FROM NOW when this moldy, hellfire beast of a show has reached its long overdue conclusion.  I guess let's dive in and hope for the best and then be really disappointed.

We open at the H.O.W., nighttime.  Or maybe it's like, four in the afternoon, who knows.

Inside to the Foyer Of Walsh, where Jim's coming down my Dream Staircase in his Gay Pride shirt, getting ready to leave for some Nerdlinger Accounting Something Or Other.  No one cares.

He joins the rest of the family in the living room and tells Cindy that he can't find some blue shirt of his, and then Brenda chimes in with, "Uh, Dad, actually I wore that shirt to the beach last week," and Jim asks her why she has to wear his shirts, and she's all, "Because they look great," and remember when we all thought that was the case? I recall stealing my brother's shirts a lot and they were enormous and baggy but man! Did I think I looked fly as fuck in them (Real Talk: I did not look fly as fuck in them).  So then Brandon has to meet the quota of Grossly Inappropriate/Incestuous Comments for the episode by adding, "Mmm, girl in a guy's shirt, Dad, there's nothin' like it," and it's only taken all of about a minute and a half and I already need to go lie down.  And by "lie down," I of course mean "simultaneously slit my wrists and drown myself in a tub-full of acetone and fire."

So then the news report they're watching starts in on a story about Shady Fuck And Dumpster Garbage Dad Jack McKay getting caught or turning himself in to federal marshals in Mexico on twenty-three counts of income tax evasion.  Does ANYONE care? No? We're all just waiting for The Car Bomb Heard 'Round The Marina in Season 3 when Jack is presumably blown to smithereens while wearing a really unfortunate sweatsuit? And then rolling our eyes so much that they get stuck like that in Season 10 when the writers can't think of any more story lines for Dylan and they bring Jack back from the dead? Exactly.

Oh, and here's a shot of Not Real Jack McKay.  This is the second Not Real Jack McKay in as many seasons, if you're keeping track, or playing some really depressing, solo drinking game at home like I am.

As the report goes on, Jim says to Cindy, "Smartest thing she ever did was break up with that guy," about Brenda and Dylan, and I guess we're supposed to believe that he says it all under his breath on-the-sly or some shit, but he's actually really obvious about it and Brenda absolutely would've heard her idiot father.  And then he's all, "It was only a matter of time before they caught up with that crook," and Brenda pulls out the whole, "He's innocent until proven guilty," and I am so, so bored already I'm actually REALLY looking forward to seeing Steve's navel later in the episode.  At least it will give me something to do, i.e. throw up the Entemann's donuts I just ate all over my hands, laptop and the cat sitting in my lap.

Cut to Dylan's apartment/condo thing and he's broodishly watching the report or broodishly listening to it in the background and his phone rings, and I CANNOT WITH THIS here's his answering machine greeting: "Hi! You know what to do, after the beep-a-rooni," and YOU GUYS.  SERIOUSLY.  THERE IS NO WAY IN ALL THE HOLY HELLS that this would be Dylan's message. "Beep-a-rooni"???  He's supposed to be all Mysterious Bad Boy (although he's really more GIANT Bad Boy Cliche) and this is his outgoing answering machine message??? Was the writer who came up with this line brand new, and like, this was their first line that they ever wrote for the show? A show which, APPARENTLY, they had never fucking seen?  This is the shit that makes my aneurysm act up.  ANYway, of course it's Brenda calling, although why she didn't immediately hang-up, change her number, her name, her hair color and move to Coeur d' Alene, Idaho after hearing this message I don't know, and she's all, "It's me, Brenda.  Are you okay? Dylan.  Dylan, please pick up." Whatever.