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.

Season 2; Episode 2: The Party Fish - My Idea Of Hell On Earth? A Horrifyingly-Titled, Brandon-Fronted Episode Where Steve Gets To Say A Lot Of Words And Brandish His Increasingly Worrisome Chest.

In which I'd like to welcome my new readers! There's been a bit of a bump in views these past few weeks, and I'd like to shout out to Rach, who somehow found my blog (probably when I had that gun against her head and told her to type "modcam1923.blogspot.com" into the browser, whatever) and then mentioned it on THE MOST AMAZING SITE YOU WILL EVER HAVE THE PLEASURE OF READING, NO I'M NOT EXAGGERATING, Full House Reviewed.  For real-reals you guys, this is the funniest shit you will EVER read.  As the tagline says, it's every episode of Full House reviewed in chronological order, but in the most vulgar, amazing way possible.  ANYWAY, Rach is a follower of that blog, and mentioned my little old waste-of-time-and-sanity in the comments section of one of the posts there.  A few other readers took pity and came by for a visit, and they're apparently a bunch of masochists because they've stuck around and started weeding through the archives! Also: A special thanks to Teebore, who has left far-more-insightful-than-my-own comments on several of my posts.  Thank you for making sense of my diarrhea-laced rants and then intelligently sharing your thoughts.  So now...onto the show, which is kind of a bummer, as I'd much rather discuss ANYTHING ELSE.  Why, you inquire? Because this is the one where Brandon wants to stick it in some 33-year-old BHBC waitress, but then he realizes that She Has A Secret, which is that she's currently riding the dick of some cokey-vibed beach club member who takes a really weird and spooky interest in Brandon getting a car.  Although my theory is: dude's a pimp and thinks that Brandon's baby blues and dimples will look really fetching in some Rough Trade while selling his "goods" (if he has any...which he doesn't) on Hollywood Blvd.  WHERE WAS I? Oh, fuck it.  Whatever.  Read on.

We open on the House Of Walsh.

In the kitchen, Jim asks, "What time does your express bus leave?" and Brandon, all Put Upon and Sad-Sacky (YES, FUCKING AGAIN) tells his father, "6:30," even though it's CLEARLY 10 AM outside. So because Jim doesn't want to be around Brandon any more than any of the rest of us do, he says, "You better get goin’."

So Brandon gets up all grunty and whatever, and Jim's all, "What's with you?" And I interject, "He's a piece of shit," but no one listens to me, and then Brandon tells him, "Job burnout," AND WHAT THE HOLY MOTHER-FUCK IT'S BEEN A WEEK.  And THANK MOSES Jim's there to agree with me and advise this monstrosity, "After one week?" and THANK YOU, JIM. Also: I kind of like Jim this episode.  Kind of how I liked him in the “It’s Only A Test” episode.  But just like that one, I’ll be sporting a major hate Woodrow for him at the end of this episode.  My feelings toward Jim are very schizophrenic.  I...don’t know. So Brandon, who thinks he's been working with radioactive materials or in a goddamn coal mine or something, says, "It’s the toughest job I ever had, Dad." So unlike mine, Jim's head does not detonate (that's two episodes in a row for me, if you're keeping track) and tells his WANKER son, "Spending your day at the beach doesn’t sound all that difficult," and SEEEEEEERIOUSLY, Jim's my boyfriend right now. Only not because that's a really unpleasant thought. And because I said it, I now need to go bathe myself in a tub full of flesh-eating ants and asbestos.

So then because Brandon is The Worst, Always And Eternally, he puts on this smarm-face and tells his father, "But you have no idea what my day is like.  I’m the first one there in the morning, practically the last one to leave at night, I’m so busy all day the only way I know I’m at the beach is because my shoes are full of sand." Or because the fucking Pacific Ocean is RIGHT THERE, MORON. So Jim informs him that there's no free lunch and that, "You get what you pay for in this world," and than Brandon HONESTLY TO GOODNESS SAYS, "Ah, but you see, if you were to pay for oh, let’s say, half of what my car cost, I could quit and actually pretend it’s summer." WHATWHATWHAT??? I mean...THE GAUL. THE NERVE. Like, the self-entitlement on this one is just beyond reproach. Jim and Cindy should just bag him up, take him down to the Los Angeles River, drown him and call it a damn day. Which is basically what Jim implies he's going to do when he tells him, "Have a nice day, Brandon," but in a really monotone, "fuck you, slut" kind of a way. Jim is my Forever Temporary Homie.

BREAKING: A Thought

I am drinking champagne and watching Pretty In Pink with my multiple cats (c'mon - like 90% of you didn't already think that I have cats surrounding my person at all times, including the ones I routinely throw at passersby) and contemplating recapping movies (such as PIP) in addition to my regular BH, 90210 duties.  Just a thought.  Because sometimes, coming up with new ways to call Brandon Walsh a mother-fucking piece of shit douche-bag monster cock is a chore and a half.  And while I LOVE Pretty In Pink, for example, there is a lot of heinous clothing and horrible acting and embarrassment that comes with it.  I don't know.  Perhaps making decisions while in a haze of Barefoot Moscato Spumante and In-N-Out is not the best idea.  We'll see how I feel in the morning when I'm hungover and "If You Leave" won't fucking LEEEEEEAVE my auditory cortex. RIM SHOT FOR THE CHEAP SEATS! 

Season 2 (FUCKING FINALLY); Episode 1 - Beach Blanket Brandon: This Is The Most Asinine Title For An Episode Ever And I Hate Myself With The Fire Of A Thousand Suns For Having Typed It Out. Also: Having Brandon’s Name In The Title Does Not Bode Well. FOR THE WORLD.

In which...NEW OPENING SEQUENCE.  Which I never addressed from the first season because BOOOOOOOooooring and it was just clips from some of the season's super-compelling episodes.  And by "super compelling episodes," I of course mean "suicide inducing, 3/4-hours that I will never get back." This new one also includes scenes from Season 1, but it's mostly a lot of the kids plus AHHHHHHHHNdrea and Steve beaching around, wearing sunglasses and looking "sexy" (in quotes for everyone minus Brenda and Dylan) and mischievous.  Also: I might not be lying when I tell you that this version of the theme song? Is my ringtone.  Let's do this.

So we start off with some distorted images of the gang.  Which is only exaggerating Luke Perry's receding hairline.

I MEAN LOOK AT THESE CRAYYYYYYYYY-ZEE EFFECTS.

Unfortunately for the human race, "the gang" now includes David.  Here we see him doing the 1991 version of a photo/video-bomb at this classic moment in the opening when the synthesizer/electric drum comes in with the little clap-clap sound just as Brandon pretend-punches Dylan's chin.  I wish Dylan had, in turn, non-pretend kicked Brandon to death.  In case you couldn't have guessed it, I hate Smarm Douche Brandon Face.  Also: This shot is raping our eyes with all of its blue-on-blue-on-blue tones.

And then everyone gets together and I'm going to EAT Brenda's dress.  Donna's foul matching, velour-looking crop-top and genital revealing leggings? NOT AT ALL.  Kelly's dress is the same as what she wears later in the episode, so we'll get to it.  Also: Who let the two people CLEARLY in their mid-40s into this photoshoo...oh. Wait. Sorry, Steve and AHHHHHHHHHNdrea.

BOOM.

Shot of the guys right before Brandon pushes his surfboard over.  WHY DO YOU THINK I USED THIS STILL? And then Steve and his 41-year-old bare chest with like, liver spots in it, homo-erotically grab all the other dudes.

Yes, we're "In Stereo" here. We're also in love with Brenda's PERFECTION of an outfit.  Kelly's, whatever.

YAAAAAS.

FUCK NO.

We'll get to my utter detestation of men in tank tops later, but I'll allow this because Dylan, Dylan's Wayfarers and Dylan's sideburns.

We'll get to my utter detestation of Brandon later (AS ALWAYS), but I won't allow this because Brandon, Brandon's errant strands of hair and Brandon's OCTOGONAL shaped shades.  Also: this is from "Wild Fire," a few episodes down the line.  Brandon's having a dream about three chicks coming onto him.  Which sounds like The Laugh-Out-Loud Comedy Of The Year if you ask me.

And now we start in on the famed individual shots of the cast.  Which will be how the show will introduce them FOR THE REMAINDER OF TIME.  John Aboud and Michael Colton do an AH.MAY.ZINGly hilarious spoof of the credits which is a part of their "Everything You Need To Know About Beverly Hills, 90210" bits that they contributed to the Season 2 and 3 dvd sets.  I've included it below, and honestly, you'll most certainly just want to watch it over and over and over rather than continuing on with this muck. Anyway.

Seriously, don't read anymore.  It's embarrassing after watching this.

ANYhow, we move onto another classic shot.  Oh, AHHHHHHNdrea.  You and your sensible beach attire.  Also, Steve? GET OUT OF THE SUN.

Next up: Shannen Doherty's puckery little...whatever.  Her hair doesn't look all that great here.

Jennie Garth looks very pretty, even with her Totally Early-'90s Bangs.

Up next: This shot of Steve, Steve's Little Shorts, Dylan, Dylan's Peewee Waist, David and David's Hopefully Crushed Skull after Dylan comes down on it with his knee.

I...cannot.

I TOLD YOU, I CAN'T.

Nice styling on Gabrielle Cateris, Styling Team. Ya jerks.

Next: A shot of Luke Perry's stunt double from the "Green Room" episode.

Then Luke Perry, seducing us with...this.  And yes, it took me an hour to make this gif.  And yes, I hate myself a little more every day.

GAG.  SIZE DOWN, DAVID.  SIZE.  DOWN.

OH GOD and then he "dances." Go ahead - I'll wait while you go make yourself a hydrogen peroxide-and-ricin smoothie.

Was anyone here a David Gal-or-Guy? Just curious.  Because, DEEP SWALLOW, Steve might be a more appealing choice than David.  STEVE.  Because per this still right here, I'm guessing NO ONE EVER was a David Gal-or-Guy.  Because LOOK.

Donna, serving up some Come-Hither Freshness.

And then this very strange moment where Dylan sniffs Donna's hair, David is a WASTE OF LIFE and Steve's coming at them with his 41-year-old obliques.

More Sex Mouth, although it mostly just looks like she's got a stuffy nose.

Mom Hair from Carol Potter.

And finally we have a Knowing Look and a Fatherly Chuckle from James Eckhouse.

Mugging.

Cute-ish hand-shake thing from Donna and Brenda, with Dylan looking on all handsome.  And then there's Steve, David and AHHHHHHHHHNdrea, who all should've exited stage whatever when Brandon and Kelly did.

Less cute-ish hand-shake thing between these two, but only because Steve.

And then this happens and I really hope Dylan's actually giving Steve the bird, as someone should do to Steve every damn time he opens his mouth or breathes.