Season 2; Episode 14 - The Next Fifty Years: Of My Life Will Be Spent Coming Up With New Ways Of Saying "Steve's Hair Is A Sinister Underworld Filled To The Brim With Excrement" And "I Really Fucking Hate Brandon." Read On For The Most Recent Additions To My List.

(First and foremost, I'd like to send a birthday shout-out to the one and only Rach! A ride-or-die kind of a broad who's been an immense source of support of this nonsense for a while now...which actually kind of makes me question her judgment and psychological stability, but that's neither here nor there.  For your special day, Rach, as requested, I got you this profanity-laden blog post about a fair-haired loser who accidentally shoots himself and dies.  On his birthday.  So.  Happy Birthday to you? I guess? This is a really dreadful gift.)

In which we all know what happens in this one: Brenda bestows us with the dance move that launched a thousand-and-one imitations.  In my life anyway.

I've attempted to recreate this Julliard School Dance Division-worthy move since the moment this episode aired, only in the privacy of my own bedroom and, in more recent years, only with (potentially) a few pairs of judgy-ass cat eyes on me.  I've never been able to fully capture the grace and elegance Shannen Doherty clearly brought to the table with this one, but I try.  Still, I try.  Even if I ever only achieve 1/1,000,000th of the funk she's serving up here, I would be unable to share it with the public.  Mikhail Baryshnikov and Twyla Tharp and Blossom Russo would be so overcome with boiling jealousy and self-doubt, they'd never dance again, and I just wouldn't be able to live with that.

Oh, and also: Scott blows his digestive tract off.  And dies.  Whatever.

We open - as is so often the case - with the tip-tops of palm trees as we hear "This Is My Country" on the soundtrack.

We slowly pan down, seeing Douglas Emerson's name's final appearance onscreen...

...to the parched quad area of West Bev.  A choir is singing the aforementioned song and a bunch of other students who apparently have nothing better to do are gathered 'round.  We also see the banner proclaiming, "West Beverly Hills High School Time Capsule," and then the dates 1941 and 1991, hanging from the balcony.

Pan over the choir dorks.  I can say that because I was a choir dork in middle and high school.  And a really atrocious one at that.

More panning over the crowd.  This recedingly hair-lined dude wearing the unfortunate combination of a turtleneck under a button-down shirt (ah, the early-'90s) appears to be a member of the SAUNders family, or perhaps just another student giving Steve a run for his 41-year-old money in the 41-year-old department.

Sidebar: I didn't notice this person until I started screencapping but seriously, WHO THE FUCK IS THIS GUY.  He clearly arrived in 1991 in a time machine from the 1984 movie, This Is Spinal Tap.

Finally (and regrettably) we wind up on David, filming the goings-on in a shirt he appears to have fashioned out of the fabric scraps left over after Vivian Ward's polo match dress was made.  Except that since his shirt clearly moonlights as a fumigation tarp for the Spelling Mansion, it's more likely that he so fancied Vivian's dress that he headed to ALL the Jo-Anns to buy ALL the bolts of this fabric in ALL of the state of California, as well as parts of Arizona and Oregon.  Also: we're only 2:02 into this episode and I've already made a Pretty Woman reference.  I can hardly wait to see how many more I can cram in, given that I'm going through withdrawals, having not made a single one in my "Halloween" recap.  Moving on.

So then we get David's vantage point of looking through the camera (how clever) as he focuses on the banner.

Then we sadly get David's tinny voiceover as he pans down to Brandon and his Smug Brandon Mug (slathered in Blush-&-Bashful Bronzer, it appears) wearing a sports coat and a tie, and AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea wearing what could be a cute dress but is more than likely an abomination.  I mean, it's AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea after all.  David says, "That's Brandon Walsh with the editorial board [ed. note: oh, please]; AHHHHHHNdrea Zuckerman, [and he seriously says "AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea," like, exactly how I write it, and he sounds kind of irritated with it, which was pretty boss and very un-David-like, really] editor-in-chief of the Blaze."

Mrs. T.  Dressed as Bette Midler and Bette Midler's SHOULDER PADS in Big Business? Silly Mrs. T. - Halloween was last episode!

And then David gets this guy, "Mr. Chapman," who we'll see later in the episode as well as later in the season as Brandon and a 'roided-up Steve's track and field coach.

The Blonde Brigade, surrounded as always by a bunch of Nobodies.  David refers to them as "the Three Amigos," because he's just as quick-witted as I am.

He then sets in his sights Dylan and Brenda, and what a fucking nuisance to everyone else in the crowd, lurking around, stalking the clique he so desperately wants to be included in.  Also: see the horror in Brenda's eyes at his approach? That's pure, primal fear right there.

As he gets closer, he says, "Dylan McKay and Brenda Walsh, popular...a campus couple," and of course Dylan's reaction is to tell the troglodyte to go fuck himself.  Well played, Dylan, well played.

David creeps around getting more footage ("footage" = "jack-off material for later") as we wind up back with Brandon and AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea onstage.  (Don't hate me but I like Brandon's hair here; what can I say? I like a good pomp.)  He asks AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea how many verses are in the ever-loving "This Is My Country," because seriously, it's been going on for several hours at this point.  AHHHHHHHHHNdrea then reminds Brandon that, "Citizen Kane is Saturday night," which sounds like a surefire cure for insomnia to me, especially in the company of AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea and her rat's ass hair, but whatever.  Brandon then makes the grave mistake of bailing on her, seeing as he's got a date with Emily that night, and though barely audible or visible, if you look hard enough and listen hard enough you'll observe AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea turning away and seething, "If I can't have you, no one can," out of her foaming mouth.

FINALLY, the choir is through and Mrs, T. and her SHOULDER PADS head to the microphone, advising everyone assembled, "I'd like to thank our special guests from the Class of '41, who invite all of you to take a closer look at the time capsule.  Thank you.  We'll see ya tomorrow." And then everyone claps.  Because this lame assembly is over.

David, in a shirt Dorothy Zbornak would deem "too shapeless," heads back over to Dylan and Brenda, embarrassing himself further by begging Dylan for "just one sound bite, please.  That's all I ask."

Season 2; Episode 13 - Halloween: I'M ALIVE. And So Is Scott. But Not For Long. Also, Reminder: Please Don't Rape, Or Attempt To Rape, Anyone. Because That Makes You A Giant Piece Of Shit On Multiple Levels.

In which let's ignore the fact that I haven't been very attentive to the blog over the last infinity (real time: 3 months) and instead take a peek at the DVD menu for this disc:

I mean, look at it.

Reeeeally look at it.

Jesus.  Also: have I distracted you from my negligence yet? No? All I've done is provide you with an ample supply of night terrors for the remainder of your lives? Oh.  Well, then.  Carry on and...you're welcome? I guess?

                                                                                     

So we open with umpteen shots of jack-o'-lanterns lit from within by flickering candles.  Seriously, this goes on for at least 3 days.  A woman's screams can also be heard on the soundtrack, totally not inappropriate or disturbing and really just in keeping with the screams Kelly will be letting out later in the episode as she's being assaulted.  It's called "a theme," people.  Oh, and of course no opening montage would be complete without The Sweet Ghee-tar Lick.

We eventually fade up on these sad mini pumpkins with shoddily, Sharpie-drawn faces on them.

Unsurprisingly, it is AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea drawing the uninspired faces on the pumpkins, which are going to be party favors at The Valley Youth Center party AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's attending later that evening.  How fucking depressing: a tiny gourd with a shitty, Sharpie-drawn face on it + having to hang out with The Zuck all night? Happy Halloween, kids.

Brandon mocks AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's evening plans with a sarcastic, "Ohhhh, how sweet." AHHHHHHHHNdrea reminds him that he likes kids, too, which he affirms, and then AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea adopts a high-pitched, sacchariny voice that gives us the tiniest glimpse of a sense of humor and mocks, "Ohhhhh, how sweet."

Brandon serves up this murderous glare, which is reminiscent of the time he seriously considered shaving Dylan's body of its flesh and boiling it up for a midday snack:

YIKES.

But seriously.

He continues to concern everyone by stabbing the pumpkin with the knife he's been wielding and twisting it around.  AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's face here speaks for us all.

BREAKING: Or, Just Me Giving You An Update.

ZOMG THE WRITING'S DONE.

I just made procrastination my bitch.  Except not at all, because I haven't posted a recap since February (FEB.RUUUU.ARY.MYGOD) and I'm not REALLY done with this one; I still have to do all the screenshots, put the finishing touches (i.e. my shame) on it, etc.  So, never mind. I will be procrastination's bitch until I think about killing myself and then put it off in lieu of watching the Friends episode where Monica and Rachel lose their apartment to Chandler and Joey and Phoebe finds out she's pregnant for her brother and I get all misty-eyed and pathetic.  More so, I mean.

BREAKING: More Lies. Probably.

Firstly: Dudes.  I'm sorry.  (Because I know all of you wait around with bated breath for new blog posts.  Shut up, Carly, you self-centered douche, you say? Okay.)

My lower back (or lumbar spine for all of the medical professionals I'm certain read this blog), like my twat of a stomach, is one shifty bitch, hellbent on confining me to a mostly-horizontal position and causing the lower half of my person to burn with the same kind of searing pain I'm sure Steve experiences whenever he urinates out of his floccus-encased pee-hole.  So I've been dealing with the fact that I'm probably going to end up permanently hunched over, shuffling around in public while flailing a Penny Saver advert at passing cars and screaming, "PLEASE!" at my boyfriend to give me some of his cardboard.  Wait, what? Okay, that might've described a homeless woman I saw downtown outside of my office building at lunch one day.  But she was hunched over at like, a 90-degree angle and I'm pretty sure that's where all of her problems originated.  All of this to say that I've been trying to prevent myself from becoming that woman but it's been a slow process, and writing about attempted rape has kind of fallen by the wayside.

But! The post is coming along, I promise you.  I'm making a concerted effort to at least finish up the writing portion of it this weekend, and then hopefully gathering all of the screenshots over the course of the coming week.  I want to thank all of my very (patient) loyal readers,  You know that you rule and I know that you rule and because of that I'll gift you with what I now consider my New Favorite .Gif Ever:

And by "favorite" I of course mean, "Here.  Take this julienne peeler and slowly exfoliate the top layers of each of my eyeballs with it." Drink it in, guys.

Image courtesy of the author's Mad makeagif.com Skillz.

BREAKING: But Not Really.

(I posted this filthy lie early last week on social media.* I had the intention of blowing through the writing of the "Halloween" recap this weekend.  Instead, on Friday night, I drank margaritas.  Followed by several vodka presses.  And on Saturday, in lieu of writing, I hated myself, slept on the couch, and only occasionally stirred to stuff grease-soaked grease into my mouth in the form of In-N-Out.  And then I thought about writing and didn't because being horizontal was more important.  In conclusion, "NEW POST UP WITHIN THE WEEK HURRAY" is a total sham, perpetrated by a delusional loser who is easily lured by the siren song of enchiladas, margaritas and Los Feliz bars crowded with boater hats and the bearded assholes who love them.  All of this to say that the post will not be up by Tuesday, or any other weekday next week.  But probably in like, the first week of May or something.)

Sing it, sister! Dylan's The More You Know Moment also self-servingly leads me to a shameless promotion of my next blog post, wherein I recap A Very Special Episode of Beverly Hills, 90210 about Halloween and how if you're costumed as a vampy witch, the guy who played The Jimmy on Seinfeld will try to force-feed you snack-size quesadillas and then attempt to rape you.  Which you'll totally deserve, by the way.  Because how can a man be expected to remember to not rape someone? I mean, really.  That's a tall order.  And on that note: NEW POST UP WITHIN THE WEEK HURRAY.

*If you don't follow me on social media, I don't blame you.  Also: I hate the term "social media." But if you're feeling particularly charitable, you can follow me on Instagram, Pinterest or Twitter.  I'm not that great about updating them or posting pictures of my meals or sunsets and stuff, but it would do wonders for my self esteem.

Season 2, Episode 12 - Down And Out (Of District) In Beverly Hills: I DON'T CARE.

(Almost a three-month hiatus? Not too shabby.  I seriously don't even know what happened, you guys.  Wait.  No.  That's a lie.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea happened.  And every time I would sit down to write, I would think of at least 17 ¾ other things that I would rather be doing.  And then I would do them.  And then I would take a nap or three.  And then I would come back to my desk and attempt to write again and the whole vicious cycle would start all over.  So, here is what I was able to begrudgingly scrape together over the last few months.  Apologies in advance.)

In which who cares?  I mean, it's an episode surrounding AHHHHHHHHHHHNndrea And Her Plight.  And by "her plight" I of course mean "her non-plight that no one gives three corroded dick shafts about, wherein she's a goblin and basically compares her un-problem to her grandmother's escape from a Nazi regime." If you haven't already sprinted away in the opposite direction following that intro, then you're a hopeless masochist with horrible judgment and I pity you, I really do.  I pity you.

We open in the courtyard/quad-whatever of West Bev.  This oddly daunting synth music plays in the background.

Inside the hallway, Kelly stares directly into the camera, so you know that the camera is supposed to represent someone's vantage point.  And we know whose vantage point when Kelly says, "AHHHHHHHHNdrea," all concerned.  And once you hear that the camera represents AHHHHHHHHNdrea, and that this episode will most likely revolve around her, you will swiftly mash the OFF button on your clicker, pick up a book or perhaps dig the empty Cinnamon Toast Crunch box out of the garbage can to read, or turn your chair towards a blank wall and give it a good, long, open-mouthed gape for a couple of hours or do anything else at all just so you don't have to endure a plot surrounding a character no one cares about or even likes in the slightest.

As AHHHHHHHHNdrea continues down the hall, everyone, including Steve and his heinous shirt and corkscrew mullet, gawk in AHHHHHHHHNdrea's direction all horrified.  Which is not really any different than how people usually react to AHHHHHHHNdrea's presence, so I don't quite see what the big deal is here.

When David sees AHHHHHHHHNdrea coming, he looks all befuddled and drops his books, and, given that she's SPOILER ALERT naked, probably pops a teensy Woodrow.

Finally, we arrive at Brandon.  Oh, goody.  He's all, "AHHHHHHNdrea?"

We then get our first shot of a (presumably) topless AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  That's far too much of Gabrielle Cateris' clavicle-into-breast region for my taste.  She asks him, "Why is everybody staring at me? I mean, what's wrong?"

And SPOILER ALERT Dream Brandon's just as much of a condescending jackass as Real Live Brandon, so he patronizingly asks, "Didn't you forget somethin'?"

AHHHHHHNdrea looks down and realizes her nakedness as Dream Steve and Dream David do a pretty accurate impression of how Real Live Steve and Real Live David would react under the same circumstances (i.e. like leering pervs).  And then the school bell rings and everyone laughs and laughs...

Season 2; Episode 11 - Leading From The Heart: You Will Probably Think A Lot Less Of People In Wheelchairs After Watching This Episode. I Know I Do.

In which we meet Brenda and Brandon's cousin from Minnesota, Bobby Wheelchair.  The reason he's in a wheelchair? Brandon.  Also, Bobby Wheelchair's a male Walsh, so he's kind of a douche.  And has the eyes of sexual assaulter.  And looks at Kelly like he's going to make Kelly-skin lampshades in the near-future.  And gets mad at Kelly for ever having gone on a date before he came to town.  And I really don't like the guy, if you couldn't already tell.  And I guess: read on.

While a sweet ghee-tar lick plays in the background, we open on this palm tree...

...and then fade down to the front entrance of West Bev...

...where our friend with his neon-and-black backpack makes the exact same trek up the steps as always.  Dude likes a routine, apparently.

We also get a shot of these dowdy (presumed) teacher-ladies and their Ross Dress for Less discount rack duds.

More Sweet Ghee-tar music plays as we see this mushroom-headed band loser.  Who actually looks more hip and "with it" than AHHHHHHNdrea.

Inside to the hallway with Brandon coming up behind Emily (now with semi-dyed roots!) and RUN EMILY RUN FOR YOUR LIFE AND SOUL!

Brandon catches up to her and asks, "Where ya been, stranger? Long time no see." Emily does not answer with the truth (that she's been avoiding Brandon like the plague because he is indeed a plague, and a smug one at that) as I would've, but rather makes some excuses about her credits not transferring from her old school and that she's been taking sophomore make-up classes.  She asks Brandon what he's been up to and he's all, "Seems like I've been spendin' all my time on The West Beverly Blaze." Does he have to clarify that it's the "West Beverly" Blaze? Does Beverly High or Pacific Palisades High or fucking El Monte High have a school paper called The Blaze? I somehow doubt it, but if so, NO ONE WOULD CARE ANYWAY.  Except for AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  But who cares, because AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.

Unfortunately, Emily seems all impressed and tells him that she's been reading his articles and I guess like, masturbating to them or something.  Brandon says that he's in a rush to meet Brenda and that she's taking her driver's test "for the third time." Emily's all, "What's her problem, anyway?" and as I recall, it was you and your upcoming pelvic exam, bitch.  But Brandon tells her, "Parallel parking.  We practice and practice but she just doesn't get it." And then he laughs and laughs about his sister's vehicular shortcomings like a real shithead.

Over in another part of the hallway, Donna (who looks great in white) Brenda (perfect as always) and Kelly (wearing...a shirt from Jackie's coke-fiend days?) walk together as Brenda talks about being freaked out about her driving test and hitting the orange cones used for parallel parking and the horrible dream she had the night before where she had to park a semi between two "gigantic oreenge [yes, she pronounces it "oreenge" and is adorable] cones" that were filled with explosives.

They wind up at Brenda's locker and she asks the other two if they were freaked out about their driving exams and Kelly braggarts, "God no.  I passed with flying colors.  I think some people are just born to drive." Donna sets the record straight and informs Brenda, "Oh, please.  You should've seen Kelly when she first got her license.  For the first month, I felt like a crash test dummy." Kelly admits that she had a few "fender-benders" but that's how she learned.  Ah, rich kids.

Brandon then comes up behind Brenda and gets inappropriately close and touchy and asks if she's ready.  Brenda asks where Dylan is and Brandon's all, "Throwing back a Zima Gold in the parking lot," only not really, but rather, "I saw him at lunch, he said he'd meet us out front."

Brenda, Donna and Kelly have a group hug which was nice.  Something to remember later in the episode when Bobby Wheelchair is eating our souls with his dead-eyed gaze.