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."
Steve doesn't get far, though; he turns and is immediately at a table where David and Donna sit, mopily. I would say they're moping because they're being exposed to Steve's whole left ass cheek and its keratosis pilaris, but nope; that's just a little something reserved special for those of us watching and possibly taking detailed screenshots of the goings-on.
He places his nude haunches on the chair that is now biohazard material and asks, "Donna! When are you goin' to Europe?" Donna rolls her eyes and David responds for her: "Day after tomorrow." Steve follows up with, "Well, are you all packed?"...
...which sends Donna into a very endearing and relatable tailspin as she clutches the sides of her head and says, "Oh, my god!"
Ian Ziering gets in a great line delivery tinged with the perfect amount of confusion and fear when he asks, "What'd I say?"
Donna quickly turns to David and demands, "You have to come with me...that's all there is to it." David goes into his song and dance about having to take summer school classes if he wants to graduate early (another triple Z-list story line that had been erased from my memory for obvious reazzzzzzzzzzzzzz), and Steve interjects, "I really feel ya, Donna. I can't believe Kelly's gonna shine on Europe just so she can stay home and moon over some baby." David adds that Kelly has, "really flipped out," and Donna defends her friend with, "No, she hasn't. I mean, Paris is Paris. But you have to admit it's an awfully cute baby."
And then we're right there with The Burden, a.k.a. Baby Erin, on Kelly's lap as she talks to Brenda on the phone.
She tells her about Jackie nursing and bottle-feeding Erin at 4:00 a.m. and some other infant-related tripe, but the cutesy little baby voice she employs while talking to and about this newborn is making me ill, so. Moving on.
At the Craftsman: as Brenda (HER DRESS! HER HAIR!) hangs up with Kelly, Dylan exits the bedroom all snazzed up for his Big Boy Meeting at Jim's Big Boy Office Building. He tells her, "Well, here goes nothin'."
But Brenda disagrees: "No, here goes a lot. The fact that you're going to my father's office to stand up for what's right, means more to me than you'll ever know." He bursts her bubble real quick with, "Brenda, your father is my trustee. He sent me a summons. It's not like I have a choice."
STUNNING: "But if you did have a choice, I know you'd be there for me." NO HE WOULDN'T BRENDA. HE'S ALREADY ONE SURF SHOE-CLAD FOOT OUT THE DOOR. *Sob*
Office Building of Big Boy.
Inside. Jim's leading with some real micro penis energy and a whole lotta threats: "It's come to the attention of the trust that you are currently co-habitating with a minor. And you are aware that she's under 18. As the officer sworn to protect and maintain the integrity of your estate, it is my obligation not to accept any conduct on your part which puts the estate at risk, and by harboring a minor, you are technically committing statutory rape. Therefore, according to the terms of the trust, I am left with no choice but to impound any and all assets of the trust until you cease and desist in engaging in any activity which is not in the best interest of the trust." As a Comic Book Guy-level fucking DORK sidebar: Dylan doesn't turn 18 until several episodes down the line, in "A Presumption of Innocence"; soooo, this wouldn't be SR, right? Most importantly: WHY DO I KNOW WHEN DYLAN McKAY'S BIRTHDAY IS? Over like, important stuff. World geography and historical events? Or even what happened at work last Wednesday? The smoothed-over mass of cells stagnating and partially-decomposing inside of my skull is a true enigma to me.
Anyway, Dylan and his GIANT Morrissey hair react as one would in this situation: Eye rolls...
...stink-eye and seat-shifting...
...and finally with a, "Come on, man. You got a lot of other options instead of going after me. You just choose not to acknowledge them."
He then stands and gets in Jim's suspenders and tells him, "It is not my fault that you can't communicate with your daughter." Jim Death Wishes, "You're right. It's not your fault. It's your problem."
Instead of executing a well-deserved rear naked choke on Jim followed by a few swift kicks to his unconscious ribs, Dylan flusters about, telling him, "What was I supposed to do? She showed up on my doorstep. I didn't want her to move in. I knew it was a mistake. I knew it'd make you crazy. And the fact is, my place just isn't all that big."
The ~madcap~ music starts tootling in the background and Jim takes his in: "Things are getting a little bit cramped over there, huh, Dylan?" Dylan in turn agrees that it is and I hate this all so, so much. Why is every male on this show an emotional fuckwit? Oh, see my "the '90s, bros before hos, men are trash, fucking whatever" quote above? I plumb forgot.
And said fuckwittery continues: "Here's the deal. Brenda is gonna to be offered the chance to study in Paris this summer. If you don't stand in her way, but instead, help Cindy and me to convince her that it's in her best interest to go, well, everyone's problem might just go away." Look, I know this was Cindy's harebrained scheme, but I still blame Jim and his general tyranny for bringing us to this place. I hope he stays banished to the fiery pits of this heinous Vertical Blinds Purgatory forever. And before you ask: I swear I know this isn't real life. Swear.
On the bright side, Dylan calls it what it is: "That's blackmail."
On the dark side, Jim, who should be court-ordered to take a many-years-long course on the rearing of a daughter after all of this, smugs, "We choose to think of it as...creative parenting."
Back at it. Brandon sashays up to Steve, who's sitting at a table and buttoned to the GODS. Also, Steve, who's wearing that, has the audacity to tell Brandon, "Get dressed! The girls will be here any minute," even though Brandon's probably-sweaty, stinky, sandy Beach Club uniform is several Challenger Deep miles better than the lustrous-yet-somehow-really-chintzy-looking canker currently cloaking Steve's torso.
But Brandon has had a change of heart: "As a self-respecting twin, I can't go through with this switcheroo thing." For the love of FUCK, please stop saying "switcheroo." It's not a thing. Except that it is. But it shouldn't be.
Too late! As the girls - inexplicably wearing matching dresses, puke - approach, Steve bums hard and throws Brandon a dirty look. Brandon responds with, "Why don't you go out with Claire and have a good time? I'll break it with Rory." Steve, in the grand tradition of the many, many pig dogs on this show, slimes, "Whatever. I just never figured you for a PG-13 kinda guy." Does Steve think "twin swap" means "twin orgy"? Probably, mostly because as a 45-year-old high school senior, he has the brain capacity of a zygote.
They both approach the girls and Steve walks off with who he thinks is Claire, who actually stays behind with Brandon. The Dawn of Realization Synth Flute plays as soon as Brandon almost immediately registers this, and Claire cutely tells him, "Someone's gotta teach him a lesson." Oh, the WAKA WAKA.
Brandon smiles, gives her his Patented Cheesedick-but-Charming Gum Chomp™, flings an arm around her neck and they're off to go talk some more very obvious smack about Steve and every single thing about him.
As Rory and Steve head in the opposite direction, he sleazes, "We can go to dinner now, or we could go upstairs to my mom's cabana and watch the sunset. It's a killer view. What do ya say, Claire?" Poor, poor Rory, giving the performance of her goddamn LIFE, has to swallow back at least a gallon of bile, finger Steve's shirt buttons (shudder) and deliver the line, "Let's go for it, big boy." She's far braver than I.
Here. Dylan enters and Brenda pops up out of nowhere, demanding, "Hey! Why didn't you call? I've been climbing the walls." Dylan says that after the meeting, like the true cliché he is, he just "got in the car and drove." Yes, Dylan, the only people for you are the mad ones, mad to live, mad to talk, burn burn burn blah blah blah. We get it.
TL;DR: they're going to dinner at the House of Walsh; Brenda initially refuses but since all Dylan wants to do is get her out of the country so that he can lay the pipe to her best friend (or whatever) he gets all shitty and angrily insists that they're going and it's clear he picked up a few How to Rage at Women tips from Jim while simultaneously being extorted by him. How delightful.
No. Absolutely not. I will LEAVE.
Rory goes along with Steve's whole non-suave non-seduction, even going so far as to actually kiss him...
...then allowing him to kiss and MOUNT HER after he talks shit about her (thinking she's Claire), saying, "She's not nearly as hot and sexy as you are," AND huskily (and date rapishly) WHISPERING, "Let's do it, let's go for it. Come on, Claire."
Like me, she can take no more, so she shoves him off the top of her (I am...unwell) and informs him, "I'm not Claire, you dumb guy. I'm Rory." He deserves far worse than "dumb guy" - say, a throwing axe to the solar plexus - but I'm thankful for even a mild take down of this total flop of a human. She also calls him a, "slimy seal," before stomping out of the cabana but I'm choosing to ignore that and instead believe that she actually turned around and shot him on her way out the door.
Here. "Good timing! Just took the fish off the grill!"
These two have never looked hotter. Brenda, defiant, declares, "I'm not hungry. The only reason I'm here is because Dylan asked me."
James Eckhouse SELLS his next line: "It's nice to see you, too, sweetie." The bemused delivery was perfect, and probably how Jim should've been written throughout this entire ordeal, as opposed to "unhinged proto-incel."
Dylan takes Brenda aside and requests, "I know you're angry, but could you please try not to say something you're gonna regret later?" She says, "Fine, I won't say anything at all,"...
...then Brenda Stomps her way into the house past her parents as Dylan brings up the rear and gives his extortionist this simpy little smile.
Their hodge-podge of a meal looks delicious and now I want fish.
Jim initiates their little premeditated scene by complimenting Cindy on the pink bearnaise accompanying the fish, to which she responds, "It's from my Authentic April in PARIS cookbook, *WINK*." Except for that last part but barely.
Brenda, pushing her food around her plate, mumbles, "You oughta give it to Donna." Cindy responds, "Or to you."
After Brenda expresses confusion, Cindy cues Jim up to give Brenda the envelope from his breast pocket - which I guess explains away why this fucking dweeb is wearing his suit jacket at dinner - ...
...which contains a round-trip ticket to paradise Paris. Jim explains, "I understand there's a lycee on the Rue des Jardins that is holding a place for you under the name of Kelly Taylor." Cindy chimes in with, "It gives us some breathing space. And a way to start all over again when you get back."
Brenda, gutted: "And a clever way to keep me from Dylan. That's what this is all about, isn't it? A bribe. A way to buy my love. God! This is so Beverly Hills! I can't believe I'm sitting in the same room with you." She throws the envelope and ticket on that table, stands and bolts from the room, Dylan - who, mind you, also sucks - hot on her tail as she heads up the stairs.
Some Sad, Parental Failure Synth plays as Cindy closes her eyes and shakes her head...
...and this bitch, who you know is positively giddy that Cindy's plan has, for now, backfired so spectacularly, asks, "Have any other suggestions?" I have many suggestions for you, sir, most of which I've laid out pretty graphically and, admittedly, disturbingly, over the course of the last few episodes, so. Oh! Sorry! He was talking to Cindy, got it. Never mind.
Part 4 arrives...semi-soon. Ish.
No comments:
Post a Comment