Part 1 of Season 2, Episode 28: Wedding Bell Blues - THE END (of this season and my rope) IS NIGH.

 THE FINAL EPISODE OF SEASON 2.  I began the season almost TEN YEARS AGO YOU GUYS, on January 5, 2014, with the excremently-christened "Beach Blanket Brandon."  And yes, that title and episode still haunt my nightmares and night terrors, my day-mares and day terrors.  Here's to hoping that Season 3 is a little less of a slog.  It is infinitely more melodramatic, so that's a win for us all, I guess? BUT AT WHAT COST? Sadly, we already know the answer to that one, *sob*:

It's just about time to pour one (or several hundred) out for these two Hot Sluts.  But first:

We begin where we ended in the last episode: Border Inspection.

Inside some holding room: Dylan looks like we all would if we knew that the nerdlinger wrath of one Jim "Butch" Walsh was high-speed comptrolling its way down the Golden State Freeway at that very moment.

Brenda, supes cute in a very Taylor Swiftian Red-era ensemble, is, justifiably, freaking the fuck out, since she knows her dildo of a father is going to go completely and totally unreasonably ballistic on her, especially in comparison to the time her brother almost drunkenly killed a man, or the other time where he was on scary, scary drugs and left his car for dead and lied about it for days and days, and I know I bring this up every mother-fucking chance I get, but COME ON PEOPLE.  As a child I recognized the hypocrisy, but was mostly just like, boo, poor Brenda, but I'm now An Old and have lived in the world (pathetically, mostly, but that's of little importance) and I'm like, STRAP JIM TO A RADIATOR IN THE HOUSE OF WALSH WITH HIS FAVORITE PAIR OF SUSPENDERS AND BURN IT TO THE GROUND.  Mostly-mostly: poor all of us women of a certain age, who grew up watching this crap and thinking it was the norm, no matter the unfairness of it all, and believing it was just How It Was.  And it's only going to get far, far worse on this toilet heap of a show of which I will never, ever get enough, please help me it's been so long.

Dylan and his dreamy eyebrow scar assure Brenda everything's going to be okay; that yes, her father is a gigantic ass-face who likes to swing his probably-micro-penis around and generally tyrannize his daughter and hold her to ludicrous standards to which he doesn't hold his smug-mugged son while huffing and puffing about like he's fucking Charles Bronson With A Receding Hairline, but that it will all work out and and it was worth it and that they had a weekend that they'll never, ever forget, and I'd say that takes the lucrative title of Understatement of the Episode Thus Far.

Out in the hall, here comes plaid-cloaked Certified Tough Guy© Jim Walsh, best known in accounting circles as This Fucking Dweeb.  Border Agent from the previous episode leads him to Brenda and Dylan's holding room, explaining, "It's not that we didn't believe her, but we have these rules and regulations." Jim gets Hyper-Masc by placing his hands on his waist and shooting the door a filthy look.  I'm quaking.

SUCK IT, JAY SHERMAN.

Upon his arrival, their grab-ass and face-sucking is put on pause and they manage to peel themselves off of each other, Brenda whipping around with a, "Dad, hi," rather than the, "Don't even start with me, you fucking anal rot," I would've thrown his way.

The kids try to explain themselves but Jim and his ill-fitting slacks with diaper insert are having none of it and he goes Full Bitch as he turns on his heel all, "I said, let's go." Settle down, Death Wish.

    

Oh, gag.  An up-tempo, cheesemeister version of the theme song plays us over to Brandon riding his bicycle through the streets of Beverly Hills, nearly identical to the opening of Season 1's "Eastside Story." I didn't need to be reminded of that episode and neither did you.  Also, sadly, as in that one, Brandon fails to pedal himself into the welcoming claws arms of a waiting John Deere combine harvester.

He winds up in the Driveway of Walsh, where he stares at the Speedster for an oddly long time.  Not because it's a Hot Bitch, no; because he's probably taking his sweet time calculating exactly how much trouble he's in as a co-conspirator in Brenda's Mexican Caper (a slap on the wrist with a Buf-Puf and a "tut-tut, ~bOyS wIlL bE BoYzzz~!" from Jim, undoubtedly) and figuring out onto whom he's going to deflect blame.  I vote for Steve.

After making his way into the kitchen and heading to the fridge, he's distracted by the eau de white trash emanating from the direction of the living room in the form of his father's BELLOW as he admonishes Brenda and Dylan for allllllllll the neighborhood to hear: "What the two of you did this weekend is inexcusable!" Also inexcusable? Jim's hair, office clothing, weekend clothing, non-Tony Soprano robes, personality, parenting skills, probably his CPA skills, mostly likely his dong (see comment re micro-penis above), his non-ability to satisfy Cindy with his non-silky, non-moves in the bedroom, etc. etc.

In the living room, Jim paces in front of the fireplace and talks a bunch of mess about Dylan being indebted to the Walshes and how Jim controls Dylan's trust and the trust Iris put in him, Jim? And Dylan's just a crummy orphan because Jack and Iris are typical derelict Beverly Hills garbage parents and how could he break that trust? I don't know - the word "trust" gets thrown around far too much here and also I just shot-gunned a bottle of red and a handful of random pills from my medicine cabinet to take the edge off of having to witness the Walsh Patriarch feign "macho."

Apropos of nothing, Brenda looks mondo gorge here.

Brandon and his legitimately fantastic eyebrows appear in the doorway and Jim queries of them, "What about you...were you part of this, too?" Brandon says nothing because he sucks hard, but his silence and guilty Blush-and-Bashful-contoured-face do enough to implicate him as Jim concludes, "I thought so."

Cindy, feeling doubly betrayed, given that her children's duplicity involved her best friend, i.e., the telephone, turns to Jim and disgustedly (and hilariously) spits out, "He told me they went to the flea market," because this is by far the worst treachery of her entire life.  Because Our Cindy doesn't get out much.  She adds, "And then Kelly called and said Brenda was spending the night at her house.  Boy, you must all think I'm a real fool." Well, foolish enough to not recall that you called Kelly, not the other way around.

At that she does the Cindy Stomp out of the room, with Brenda calling after her, "No, Mom!  Where are you going?" Cindy, like her husband before her, turns around sharply and, Full Bitch, sasses, "I'm gonna call Jackie Taylor, I think she might wanna know about this." Jackie may well be face-down in a pile of pulverized stimulants and Jell-O shots at the moment, Cin, having caved under the pressures of single-handedly (thanks, Mel, you deviant) planning a gloriously gauche wedding.  I don't know that I'd bother her with this right now, but whatever.

Following Cindy's exit, Jim excuses Brandon from the festivities, and, as the ultimate punishment, Dylan and Brenda are forced to sit through more of Jim's audition for the West Beverly Community Theater's upcoming production of Dirty Harry: "It is my opinion.  That this relationship has certainly gone too far.  And I think it's time for the two of you.  To give it a break." Keep in mind, he says this with all of the drama...well, all of the drama you came to expect from a 1990s' teen soap opera.  So: way to rise to the occasion, James Eckhouse; I hope you submitted this for your Emmy reel.

At this, Dylan smolders, "Yeah, well maybe I'd just better go home; it's okay, Bren, I'll see ya in school," and normally, the soft forehead kiss would make me shrivel - epidermis, fingers, toes, stomach, reproductive organs, and so forth - but I'll allow it, because a) It's Dylan, and b):

He follows it with this icy, withering look and a pointed, "Tomorrow," at Jim, which is the only way in which Jim should be observed, ever. 

Dylan stands to leave and we have a brief moment where you think he's going to sweep Jim's Dockers-clad leg or maybe punch him into a plywood-and-cinder-block bookshelf, but unfortunately neither of those things occur and he merely peaces right the fuck out the front door.

Upon Dylan's departure, Brenda stands from the couch and gets all up her dumb dad's dumb face and seethes, "If you wanna punish me, then you punish me.  But don't blame Dylan, it's not his fault.  In fact, until we got to Baja, Dylan didn't even know that I..."

And before she can finish her thought, Jim ROARS, "THAT YOU LIED TO US????" like this is some big, watershed GOTCHA moment or something, which, like, it's not; the lying had already been established, no one is denying that, so please, I implore you, Jim, you fucking rod: stop watching reruns of Cop Rock and fancying yourself some kind of hard-ass interrogator who's Cracked the Case.

At this, Brenda fleeeeeeeees the room - because who wouldn't have the urge to sprint in the opposite direction when faced with Jim and his laughable DORK RAGE - accompanied by our old friend from the last episode, DEATH DRUMS.

We're immediately taken over to the Backyard of Taylor and Jake's fucking MASTERPIECE of a wedding canopy/gazebo/Greek pavilion that he apparently built in one goddamn day, given the timing of all of this, and is now painting.  I'm also choosing to believe that he did indeed install that koi pond there in the foreground as well.  Jake Hanson: a true Renaissance Man Pervert Groomer of Teen Girls.

Poor Kelly.  She enters the backyard to flirt with Jake, still believing him to be some kind of prize.  "Lookin' good." "Yeah, it's almost finished." "I was talkin' about you." I'll leave it to you, the reader, to figure out who said what while I busy myself with the self-perforation of my eardrums using only a rusty dart, the tip of which is actively on fire.

Before perpetrating yet another crime on Kelly's person, they both survey the backdoor to ensure Jackie isn't looking, even though, again, Jackie's not like a regular mom, she's a negligent mom who couldn't give a fuck if her adolescent daughter is being taken advantage of by some beef stew-heretofore-transient who just blew back into town with only a good head of hair and a motorcycle to his name.

No.  Absolutely not, I refuse.

Jake asks where Jackie is, to which Kelly tells him, "Inside," and the grown adult man who just made out with a child chides her with, "Living a little dangerously, aren't you?" My aneurysm starts acting up as Kelly teases, "You bring out the wild side in me," and, flattered, he's all, "Get outta here," and you should really be looking into a mirror when you say that, Joke.

Unfortunately this numbnut's plan couldn't be going any better, as Kelly tells him, "I just feel totally myself around you" - because that's exactly how he wants you to feel - "like it's okay to say or do anything because you'll understand" - because that's exactly how he wants you to view him.  I need a cold compress and an ayahuasca IV, stat. 

At this, Jackie, in yet another Vans Store checkerboard-primary color-succubus, comes marching out of the house, and Jake sort of pushes Kelly away and again busies himself with his fucking paragon of woodworking.

Jackie, having apparently just gotten off the phone with Cindy, has come to bitch out Kelly for being a lie-telling accomplice in Brenda's South of the Border Scheme and demand, "You call Brenda's mom and you apologize, now.  I am under enough pressure without having to deal with this kind of nonsense." I'd say the only actual nonsense in your life at the moment is a Computron-voiced geek/degenerate hybrid whose name rhymes with Smell Milver, Jackie, but what the fuck do I know.

So even though Jake is the embarrassment of all embarrassments, Kelly is for some reason humiliated by being scolded in front of him and dejectedly tells him, "I'll see ya later," and slinks back into the house.

After making weird eye contact with Jackie and her not immediately calling the police, she, too, heads inside and the camera pans back to Jake and he's all smirk-jerk because he's amused about his new victim's high school draaaaaaammmmmmzzzzz? My sides! They split! Like, this is truly played for laughs as opposed to being played as a dire warning to vulnerable young women everywhere.

Fade to WB the next whenever.

Inside at Brenda's locker, these two wear tremendous outfits, and Kelly chastises her friend for involving her in the Master Baja Blast (I don't know anymore) from over the weekend, and that Jackie reprimanded her, "like some child" - WHICH YOU ARE - "right in front of Jake!" Brenda says that she would've forewarned her but her phone privileges were revoked and she's not allowed to see Dylan anymore.  Kelly asks if this means he's not coming to the wedding, but Brenda assures her, "Of course he's coming.  Just don't seat him anywhere near my father," because those procrastinating dumb bitches absolutely are still working out the seating arrangements.

Over to Blaze Class/Workshop/Journalism Seminar/Whatever, Brandon enters with an cochlea-searing, "Hey, Chief," so it's a good thing I was able to completely rid myself of the ability to hear with that on-fire corroded dart earlier in the recap! AHHHHHHHHNdrea takes a big ol' attention-seeking sigh and responds despondently, "Hey, Ace."

The TL;DR of all of this - even though I've written nothing, because who wants to write about The fucking Zuck - is that she didn't get an invitation to the Jackie/Mel nuptials, even though she thinks she and Kelly are besties and that she, AHHHHHHHNdrea, doesn't have the most taxing personality IN THE HISTORY OF MAN and Brandon says he'll talk to Kelly and she's all, "No, if she wanted to invite me, she would've invited me.  At this point, I wouldn't go even if she asked me," and then walks away, leaving Brandon to stand there alone to contemplate why he puts up with such a burdensome drip every.  Single.  Mother-fucking.  DAY.  Of his life.

Crappy rockabilly music starts, which can only mean one thing: the Peach Pit.

Inside, Nat gripes to Brandon about Kelly turning down the pies he offered up - ON THE HOUSE OF COURSE - for the wedding, which, like, ew, Nat, no one wants to find a pubic hair baked into their slice of peach pie on their wedding day.

Dylan arrives, sidles up to the counter and asks, "How's everything goin' at the Walsh House of Detention?" Brandon tells him he's only at the Pit "to avoid spending as much time at home as possible." And for that, I am certain the remaining Walshes are forever grateful.  Dylan apologizes and tells him, "I didn't mean to make you a part of this, ya know?" but all Brandon can say is an enraging, "I never thought you guys shoulda gone down there in the first place," and hey, BUTTMUNCH: Dylan didn't know Brenda was forbidden to go until they were IN MEXICO.  You know this.  So shut all the way the fuck up and back down again.  But of course, he doesn't, and continues on about the Parents' Walsh having said no, so that should've been the end of the story, like, TELL IT TO BRENDA, and after Dylan asks him, "Whose side are you on?" I SHRIEK into the abyss, "HIS OWN, ALWAYS AND FOREVER."

Miraculously, no one comes up and sucker punches him for making his patented Billy Baldwin face right here, and he claims that he's not on anyone's side: "I understand why my father is so angry.  You and Brenda totally blew him off." Jim can't hear you, Brandon.  You don't need to kiss his ass in absentia.

Dylan has a lot more patience than I do, and rather than slapping the Ticonderoga off Brandon's head, he instead asks him, "So what do I gotta do to square things with your old man?" Brandon's advice boils down to the following: "Lay low for a while.  The less Jimbo sees of you right now, the better." Dylan then goes into this episode's installment of Oh, Woe: I Am But A Boy Who Is Poor, Little and Rich (and also serves as the INFINITUDE example of Dylan's parents' world-class shitbaggery, as legal guardians and just like, homo sapiens in general): "A few years ago, my dad married this woman.  She couldn't stand me, we fought all the time.  One day, she tells my dad that I am persona non grata, as in, not welcome in my own house." 

(Sidebar: so, a "few years ago" would've made Dylan about, what, 14? Granted, the way the show has depicted his life thus far, he was probably already bedding a bunch of Worldwide Older Ladies at that point - vomit - but he also had a fucking arch-nemesis in some fully grown trophy-hag his dad married? Will anyone blame Dylan a few seasons down the road when he SPOLIER ALERT takes up the skag? I mean.)

He ends his seriously jacked up story by asking, "Is that what you're tellin' me here, Brandon? At your house I'm persona non grata?"

Brandon: "Yeah, I guess so." There's the charm!

Dylan: "Okay.  I just wanted to hear you say it." Me: "Who wants to hear Brandon say anything? Ever?"

Fade to here.

Into the kitchen.  Jim continues his butch routine, snapping the newspaper all aggressively, barking for the butter and salt to be passed his way...

...and forcing his family to endure his continued conniption fit? Like, that's a harrrrrrd pass from me; I'd take an apple and eat it as I walked to school, since no one should have to play into Jim's fuckwitted emotional abuse hogwash.

Upstairs, for some reason, STUNNING Brenda decides talking to her idiot brother about her current predicament with her parents is a good idea.  He, of course, completely takes Jim and Cindy's side, telling her, "all things considered, you got off pretty easy" and "you didn't think and now I'm takin' the heat for somethin' I thought was a lousy idea to start with" because, as always, it's All About Brandon.  Which will basically be the show's running theme until this weasel dicks off in Season 9 or 10 or whenever.  Anyway, he gives her the same "sage" advice he gave Dylan: "Just lay low for a while." The Piano of Realizing Your Brother BLOWS plays as Brandon exits, hopefully to slip and fall and plummet down the Staircase of Walsh to his death. 

Cut to: Brenda and Dylan, pre-fucking in front of a locker bank at West Bev.  How nice for everyone around them.

After knocking it the hell off, Dylan says, "Mmmm, I never thought I'd be so happy to come to school." Brenda says that they'll also be able to see each other later that day at the dress rehearsal for the wedding, but Dylan tells her he's not actually going to the wedding: "You're dad's gonna be there.  I know he's got a lot of reasons to be mad at me, but I don't have to live with his rules or his temper.  I'm not goin' someplace where I'm not wanted."

Brenda insists that he attends the wedding; he was invited.  Dylan then goes from foreplay to fucking off real quick and tells her, "I think we should keep our distance for a little while."

Brenda, trying to keep up with her boyfriend's lightning quick tune change, asks for clarification: "You and my father or you and me?" He gracelessly advises her, "Both," and she somehow manages to hold back her tears and breathe, "I can't believe this is happening." Neither can my 12-year-old self, Brenda!!!!!!!!

She tells him that if he doesn't go to the wedding, neither will she, and in response, Dylan James Deans, "Tell that to your father," and then brushes past her and broods along down the hall and I don't know if that last line had the impact he hoped it would? The impact being....? I have no earthly idea.

Anyway, Brenda stares after his retreating figure and this keytar-heavy DOOM version of the theme song plays and once Dylan's at this doorway he reaches up and like, taps the frame and continues down the hall.  And when I tell you that I thought this was THE hottest shit ever as an almost-teen, criminy.  No one, anywhere, ever, was more attractive or cool to me than Dylan McKay in this moment.

But most importantly: POOR BRENDA! 

Part 2 coming soon!