Part 1 of Season 3, Episode 3: Too Little Too Late; Paris 75001 - Stimulants, while not required, are strongly encouraged for this one. You'll see.

I gotta say: Part 1 has me snoozin'.  But at least Brandon feels terrible the whole time, so I have that to keep me warm on this frigid Los Angeles eve.

We start at the Beach Club...

...with the Kampz for Kidz or whatever the hell...

...and the smalls have clearly tired of Brandon as much as the rest of us, seeing as they're burying him alive in the sand.  They're gonna need to shove a couple of scoopfuls in that maw of his, however, seeing as he's still able to breath and speak, calling out, "AHHHHHNdrea.  AHHHN...AHHHHHNdrea, AHHHHHHNdrea.  This is gettin' a little out of hand."

AHHHHNdrea for some reason still enjoys his company and giggles, "Sorry, Brandon, I can't help you.  I'm busy right now!" probably talking the ear off some poor 7-year-old about her Senior year syllabus as Editress-in-Dweeb for the ever-loving, National Press Club Journalism Award-winning FUCKING Blaze.

Cut over to this little boy.  As a non-spoiler because this is a long-in-tooth episode of television and we're all marching toward death so who cares: this kid's name is Cameron and he's deaf and AHHHHHNdrea will overstep some boundaries this episode to get him in the Kidz for Kampz program; his mother will be kind of a drag about the whole thing which is entirely understandable due to the AHHHHHHHNdrea of it all; and Brandon will use him as a pawn in order to get AHHHHHNdrea to stay in town instead of going off to the Republican National Convention (fuuuuuuck) with her damp paper towel of a boyfriend, Gray Berman or whatever the fuck his non-name is and it's just as much of a heart-string-puller as it sounds - that is to say, not at all.

Anyway, it's clear that Cameron's interest in Kiddie Kamptown USA is piqued, but he knows his downer of mom won't let him join so he just makes a frustrated face to himself (mayhap because he senses The Zuck on his horizon?), asks for a book to read and calls it a fucking day.  Same, Cameron.  Same.  Except instead of "asks for a book to read," mine would be "asks for a bottle of wine to take to the head."

Worthless Henry! Having reached peak worthlessness in the previous episode, he's back to rib Brandon about being whatever is the opposite of Employee of the Month: "Layin' down on the job again, Walsh?" - WHEN IN THE FUCK IS HE NOT - "Get back to work, you lazy bum." DRAG HIM TO FILTH.  Except that this is all said good-naturedly before he walks off to go, I don't know, meet Worthless Nat at the Peach Pit for their weekly Worthlessness Anonymous gathering.  Thanks for coming out, Worthless Henry!

AHHHHNdrea announces to the kids that it's lunchtime and everyone runs off, including AHHHHHHHNdrea...

...leaving Brandon behind as he should be, always and forever.

Sadly for her, he manages to extract himself from the sandpit and catches up, saying, "You got a good group of kids there," and then begins to ask her to hang out later that night...

...but as in the last episode, she cuts him off to call out, "Jay!" who has arrived to pick her up, and then back to Brandon: "I'm sorry, 'scuse me, I gotta go.  I'll see you later, okay?"

Brandon sad sacks, "Okay," and inject this directly into my VEINS I love it.

Cindy appears out of thin air for her 45 seconds of airtime, asking, "Oh, is that AHHHHHNdrea's new boyfriend?" Brandon me-OWs, "I don't know, he's a boy; he's her friend," and oh, how I cherish a bitchy and bothered Brandon.

Shot of Jay and AHHHHHHNdrea hugging like the two no-sex-having geeks they truly are.  Steamy.

It's obvious Cindy is only here to torture her shitty spawn, which is apparent when she twists the knife even further: "Well,  she certainly looks happy!" Brandon laughs through a grimace with, "I hadn't noticed." Having done her part to inflict spiritual damage upon her weasel of a son, Cindy's off to go hang with another turd - Jim - to play gin rummy.  Sounds like a nightmare!

BAH.  A true jump scare occurs as a topless - and epidermically defiled HE'S SO PINK - Steve appears, also as if from nowhere, holding a folded-up newspaper (sure, Jan); he asks Brandon, "Have you seen today's Times?" There is no way in HELL that this brain-wormed stooge reads "the Times" or anything other than the back of the Alpha-Bits box on the daily.  I guess we've already reached the inevitable point in the episode where I need to slap on my Suspension of Disbelief dunce cap.  Anyway, Brandon says he hasn't seen the paper and Steve tells him, "Dylan's old man made the front page.  He's up for parole."

Brandon reads the headline and lets out a big old theater kid-exhale: "Well, to tell ya the truth, I think Dylan's better off with his old man behind bars." You know what should also be behind bars? Whatever is happening atop Steve's head right here. 

Part 4 of Season 3, Episode 2: The Twins, the Trustee and the Very Big Trip - Oh, whatever.

 Part 1? I’ve got you covered.  Part 2?? Why, it's right here.  Part 3??? At this link, natch.  And now, fall into Part 4 and feel as dejected and disgusted as I do.

We remain at Brenda's House of Horrors.

Inside, we're in her bedroom where she stands at her dresser, shoving items into a bag as Dylan tries to reason with her, i.e. get her the fuck out of town so he can be a very handsome pile for the rest of the summer.  He implores her to calm down, to which she replies, "I'll be fine as soon as I get outta this house," and, referring to Jim and Cindy: "They are manipulative, they are arrogant, they are mean."

As she walks to the other side of the room, Dylan proclaims, "Yeah, they're your parents," and yes, this Perennial Little Boy Lost would ABSOLUTELY be the expert in the field of Just Fucking TERRIBLE Parentage, given:

Exhibits A through M; and:

Exhibits N through Septuple Z.

Part 3 of Season 3, Episode 2: The Twins, the Trustee and the Very Big Trip - I'm no Lauren Conrad: I'll take Paris over a revolting man - i.e. ALL THE MEN ON THIS SHOW - every. Damn. DAY.

Get all up in Part 1's business, here; worm your way into the affections of Part 2, here; and finally, show some love to Part 3 starting....NOW:

Sunny Beach Club beachy clubby scenes.

Snack Shack.  Brandon leans and doesn't work, and Steve wears a tank top and underwear and waits for a beverage.  You'll never guess what this lewd man with a Sebastopol goose perched atop his cranium laying eggs is banging on about OH WAIT YOU WILL because he's as obsessed with twin-swap erotica as Jim is with Brenda's reproductive cavity.

After getting his drink - which should've actually been thrown in his frizzled toupe - the two of them walk-and-talk, Steve telling Brandon, "What's fair is fair." Brandon counters with, "And what's stupid and insulting is stupid and insulting," and Steve, the stupidest person on this show by far, and that includes a two-day old Baby Erin, is all, "We all know who got the stupid one," in a scumbag reference to Rory.  Brandon should IRL unfriend Steve on the spot, but again, it won't happen because: the '90s, bros before hos, men are trash, fucking whatever.

Brandon advises him, "If you wanna go out with Claire, just call her up and ask her.  I don't care.  I'm not gonna make a stink about some girl who's going back to Florida in a couple days.  But don't make me go out with Rory just because you got some fantasy thing about twins." Steve desperately needs his head examined, and by "examined," I of course mean, "beaten with a bat." Brandon further says that if Steve even broaches the "switcheroo" subject with the girls, they'll be so disgusted and revolted that they'll both be out the door.  I think once both of them recover from their apparent matching traumatic brain injuries, which, come on, is the only logical reason they agreed to date either of these professional morons in the first place, they'll be disgusted and revolted with themselves for ever giving such dildos the time of day.

Cut to: Steve on a FLIP PHONE, the first one in creation, I gather, given its SIZE, oozing, "6:30 going once, 6:30 going twice...sold to the cute girl from Ft. Lauderdale.  So I'll see you then.  And please, tell Rory I'm glad she's feeling better.  Yeah, ya never know - she and Brandon just may hit it off.  Bye, babe." Are my ears spouting blood like a mall fountain? Because I really think my ears are spouting blood like a mall fountain.

He closes the flip part with the help of five men, because that thing's the size of a snow plow's moldboard, as Brandon asks, "How'd you know they'd go for it?" Steve sinks to the lowest levels of delusion and says, with an entirely straight face, "Even when you were with Claire, I sensed there was some chemistry goin' on between us.  I would've said something, but I didn't wanna get into a competitive thing with you over some girl."  Brandon, wiser to Steve's pathetic antics than anyone, goes full sarcasm with, "Oh, no.  Not you, Steve." They pull snaps and Steve heads off and I mop up the pools of blood on the floor from my ear founts after being subjected to Steve's "seductive" voice schmoozing out, "Bye, babe."

Part 2 of Season 3, Episode 2: The Twins, the Trustee and the Very Big Trip - Another working title for this one? Men Behaving Deplorably, Especially Steve

Take a look-see at Part 1, right the hell here, and dive on into Part 2.  NOW:

We're right inside the Craftsman living room, where Brenda, in a gorgeous dress-and-hairdo combo, sits on the couch and watches TV.  The doorbell rings because, along with Cindy and her constant phone-answering, that's all that ever happens on this show.

She peeks out the window, smiles, then opens the door adorably with a sunny, "Bonjour, travelers!"

Donna and Kelly stand on the porch, and following Brenda's greeting, Donna bursts into tears.  I would take both of their dresses behind a middle school and get them pregnant; their VERY 1992 hairstyles, which I unsuccessfully attempted to replicate dozens of times as a thoroughly unfashionable preteen with only a bottle of Rave hairspray to her name? Not at all.  Also: Tori was so good at this stuff in the early days.   A true underrated comedienne many times during the first four seasons.  Anyway, Kelly explains to Brenda that Felice is still making Donna go to Paris, even after Kelly's abandonment of the trip.  Of course Our Felice is.  Of course.  Probably so she can have the Manor to herself for some farewell dicking-down from the middest man who ever lived.  You're not giving up a guy that beige without a fight and one last au revoir with his undoubtedly disappointing dong.

Brenda brings the girls mugs of something, Donna saying, "I'm not blaming Kelly; I just wish she would've blown off the trip while my mom still could've gotten her deposit back," and then, turning to Kelly: "I think it's great that you're bonding with this new life force, but are you telling me this has nothing to do with Jake?" Really gonna need the hat tips to Joke to cease entirely up in this bitch.  That predator is West Hollywood's and its citizens' problem now.  Go clumsily slobber all over someone else's face and be gone.  Forever.

Donna moans that she can't do a whole summer in Paris by herself, and Brenda tells her that she'll make friends, then whips out her fluent French that's never been mentioned and purrs, "La ville de la lumiere.  La ville des jolies poules." Google tells me this translates to, "The city of light.  The city of pretty chickens," and because I'm both extremely dumb and extremely lazy, I will choose to believe this.  They continue to discuss Donna's Paris-aversion, Donna jokingly asking Brenda, "So, what are you doing after tomorrow?" Brenda's all, "Oh, yeah, right.  I'll be a stowaway in one of your suitcases...since I'm not talking to my parents, it'd be kinda hard to hit them up for the money to send me there."

Kelly, a mere 20 minutes away from the first hints of the start of her clandestine affair with Dylan - which, mind you, begin 20 SECONDS after Brenda boards the airport shuttle, like, she's not even out of the fucking parking lot WHAT IN THE ACTUAL - adds, "Plus, you'd have to leave Dylan." Donna whines, "What about me? I'm leaving David!" and Kelly speaks for us all, telling her, "Oh, this is different.  Because David is a non-entity and on the cusp of bringing us whatever is the opposite of Song of the Summer.  He should literally be taken out to sea and Big Pussy Style clipped after subjecting innocent eardrums to his non-talent and complete absence of shame.  Brenda and Dylan are living together.  They're making a statement.  A beautiful statement." She asks Brenda how it's going.

Brenda, tightly smiling through ALL the lies: "It couldn't be better."

Part 1 of Season 3, Episode 2: The Twins, the Trustee and the Very Big Trip - A better title would be An Exhaustive Analysis of Why Every Man on This Show Should be Caged

They're all deeply unwell.  Let's dive in and point and laugh at them.

We begin here: inside David's camera view (filthy), panning through a hospital window into a nursery where a nurse is doing nurse-like things with soon-to-be nursing babies.  Nurse.  And then David's Voice Over starts up and ruins everything, as always: "There were hundreds of babies born in Los Angeles County two days ago.  Black babies, white babies, big babies, and small babies.  But only one baby so special that she'll go through life with the name..."

...and then an RN who's just trying to do her goddamn job - i.e. take care of the progeny of the wealthy and disrespectful - blocks David's shot of Baby [a 32-year-old SPOILER ALERT for anyone who cares, which is no one] Erin in her bassinet and he whines, "Damn it lady, get outta there!" something he's most likely heard Mel shout in their home many, many times, at various dental hygienists in the wee morning hours, probably following an evening of scaling and root planing their vaginas.

Cut to Kelly, David and David's predatory video camera standing at the window.  He bitches, "I gotta do it one more time!" and Kelly reminds him that the baby will be home the next day and that, "At this point, the only way anybody can tell it's a girl is because they wrap it in a pink blanket." She fails to add that he's a fucking plague upon film-making in general and the world specifically.

The latter of which he proves by, in the tradition of true pig-slop deviants everywhere, smirking and saying, "I got news for you, Kel.  That's not the only way they can tell it's a girl." THAT'S YOUR SISTER YOU SWINE.  I guess it's just in keeping with the interbred overtones this show loves to spotlight, and the depravity of the City of Beverly Hills on the whole.

Walsh, House of.

In the Lair, standing at a mirror, Jim straightens his tie and puts the finishing touches on his daily sartorial tribute to one Gordon Gekko; Cindy musses with her hair and wishes she were dead because guess what her clinically insane husband is going on about at 7 a.m.: "What we've got here is a manipulative little girl who is spoiled rotten to the core!"  As someone who also suffers from obsessive compulsive disorder, I implore Jim to seek out some sort of weekly behavioral therapy sessions and maybe a hero's dose worth of daily Zoloft and Buspirone.  Before Cowardly Lion-ing herself out of the French doors and over the balcony's edge, Cindy speaks the gospel: "I can't listen to this anymore!"

So will Jim, most certainly the Treasurer and Co-VP of the Beverly Hills Men's Rights Activists' Association, take heed and calm the fuck down and maybe listen to his wife for once? OF COURSE NOT.  Take it away, Jim!: "Honey, I don't blame you!  If anything, I blame myself.  All those years, she was 'Daddy's little bunnyfish.'  Whatever Brenda wanted, Brenda got.  Kisses and hugs.  No questions asked.  No wonder she has no respect for parental authority.  She's out of control, OUT OF CONTROL!!!!" I'd say the person currently shrieking "OUT OF CONTROL" in his wife's face is, perhaps, the only one "out of control" here, and also, this is a man who is undeniably emotionally ill-equipped to continue whatever high-powered CPA job he currently holds and his employer should be alerted immediately.

But unfortunately, Cindy believes that trying to reason with a brick wall works: "She is in perfect control! And she has been ever since you decided to go to war with Dylan McKay.  Stomping around the house, threatening to use the full extent of the law, that's not gonna bring our family back together again!" Preach, lady.

Jim, however, CONSUMED with thoughts of his daughter's segggs-ual relations, can only reply with, "I just can't sit back and do nothing, knowing that she's shacked up with that guy." Cindy, who has far more patience than I, asks, "What do you propose we do about it? Lock her in a chastity belt, keep her in her room until we're ready to become grandparents?" Jim responds, "For starters." James Eckhouse seems like a likable person so he almost sold that line and made me laugh with his delivery there.  Anyway, they're going to give the stalemate a few more days to see how it shakes out and I'm sure Cindy is looking forward to at least a few more mental collapses and spittle-drenched tirades from Jim in the meantime.

Part 4 of Season 3, Episode 1: Misery Loves Company - Want to cry along with me each and every time Shannen Doherty appears on-screen? LET'S GO.

Part Un.

Part Deux.

Part Trois.

Back at it.

Inside, in a real move-the-needle moment, Steve busses and Brandon chides him about missing a spot.  I'd seriously rather spend the evening with The Zuck and her non-entity of a boyf than have to endure much more of this brainless rich-dunderhead-works-at-restaurant / is-a-total-failure / morally-superior-friend-has-the-last-laugh absurdity.

Worthless Nat emerges from the kitchen carrying approximately all the eggs.  He calls out to Steve to help him in the backroom, and we're about to slip into some Imbecile Breaks Eggs Waka Waka Comedy (truly the lowest form of comedy) so buckle up.

Brandon scolds, "You better hurry, Stevie.  Don't want to tick off the boss man." Steve spouts off some delusions about Nat loving him: "This is working out great!" I'm sure his barber also said, "This is working out great!" as he spun Steve's salon chair around after putting the finishing touches on the in-hibernation frillback pigeon slumbering on the back of his cranium, so I don't know how much stock I'd put into his words here.

As Steve scurries back to the kitchen, he puts Brandon in a non-fatal chokehold and the gang just laughs and laughs while also dying on the insides at having to feign delight at the low-rent clownery of two mega-chodes.

Nat apparates table-side as if from nowhere, and scares the ever-loving shit out of me, not unlike something something Steve's hair something something every time that sun-bleached steel wool bastard appears on screen something.  He asks to speak to Brandon in private...

...and then takes him two feet away to sit at the counter.  Worthless Nat: a true Virtuoso of Subterfuge.  He tells Brandon that he's going to fire Steve, GASP, saying, "I don't know how to break it to him."

Brandon, nothing but a simpering, skeevy snake with a good head of hair, smirks and fires up the ol' gaslight: "Maybe you should just tell him the truth.  I'm sure he can take it." Nat ponders, "I can't even figure out why he wants this job.  It's not like he needs the money.  It's like he's got something to prove, ya know?" I hope when all is said and done, Nat finds out everything and goes all Laney Boggs StyleZ, "Am I bet? Am I a BET?? AM I FUCKING BET????"  And then beats Brandon to near-death with his fucking precious spatula, the handle of which is currently lodged in Steve's pubes.

Whatever whatever, Brandon seems to feel a bit of remorse and tells Nat to give Steve another chance and then there's clinging and clanging and crashing from the kitchen and, in the grand tradition of the iconic Chandler Bing, someone should really ask Steve on the daily, "How do you not fall down more?"

Nat hurries back to hopefully kick half-witted Steve's half-witted perm as Brandon chortles and ambles back to the table, asking everyone, "Omelets, anyone?" My sides? Decidedly not splitting.