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.

Season 1; Episode 22 - Home Again: You'll Most Likely Be Emptying The Contents Of Your EVERYTHING After Witnessing AHHHHHNdrea's Excruciating Seduction Of Brandon. Keep Several Toilets Nearby.

So. Here it is. The final (POINTLESS) episode of Season 1 of Beverly Hills, 90210. Aren’t you like, BEYOND MEGA EXCITED??? No? Not at all? Yeah, me neither. What I really can’t believe is that I’ve been writing these things for a little under a year, and I’ve only NOW just reached the end of this mostly gag-worthy season. Real-life, grown-up people jobs really tend to put a damper on things, don’t they? ANYhow, I kind of like that the end of recapping the first season is sort of coinciding with my first anniversary of living here in LA. It seems fitting. Why? I don’t have any fucking clue. I just thought it sounded profound and meaningful. But I do remember being a girl of 10 and watching this show and becoming absolutely enamored with the idea of residing in Los Angeles. Little did I know that 23 years later I would be here, living the dream. And by “living the dream,” I of course mean, “Dream? What dream? I’m a 33-year-old crap-heap who writes about a show that started airing when I was in the fifth grade. And my LA [THAT’S RIGHT, GLEN, YOU FUCKING DEGENERATE] doesn’t even come close to what is portrayed on the show. Although, my boyfriend does have some pretty righteous sideburns, so, there’s that.” Where was I? Oh, right - this episode. Is lame. On a variety of levels. Enjoy. Or don’t. Whatever.



So we start out with some sweet key-tar music, and this: Steve getting clocked by some trash-mound mutant in the West Bev courtyard. And no one doing anything about it because Steve.



And then of course Brandon “Hero Complex” Walsh has to come up and stop Stripey The Mutant from walloping Steve to death. Because Brandon ruins ALL THE THINGS. And he pansily tells Stripey, “Back off!” Also: there are A LOT aborted-fetus-looking people who attend West Bev, I mean LOOK. 



Cut to these four who are strolling along, and Kelly and Dylan are in matching Steve SAUNders Specials,  which is probably a clever foreshadowing of Kelly’s Abduction Of Dylan’s Penis at the beginning of the third season. And even with my absolute hatred of the Steve SAUNders Special (and of Steve SAUNders The Subhuman), Dylan looks pretty damn dreamboat-y right here. And then Donna spots the fight between Steve and the mongoloid and is all, “You guys, what's going on?” and truly NO ONE CARES.



Cut back over to this 27-year-old shitbag (and Donna in a FABULOUS shirt-dress thing), who really looks like he could be one of the Lesser Cobra Kais. 



Totally.



And he proceeds to call Steve a wuss, so even though dude looks like he just rolled out of some rundown trailer park on the outskirts of Fontana, we could totally hang.



And then Steve The Panty-Waist is all, “Next time I’m gonna kill you,” which seems unlikely, given that before Brandon broke it up, Steve was being pummeled like the flesh-colored cotton candy-haired little bitch that he is. So Dylan’s all, “Everything alright? You cool?” and even though Steve is the antithesis of cool, Brandon responds with, “He’s fine, he’s fine,” and then he takes Steve for a walk. Also: I’M BORED. CAN WE TALK ABOUT LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE???



Steve has never looked more like The Greatest American Hero. And he tells Brandon, “He started it, he said something stupid about my mom,” and Brandon can’t believe it, all, “You got into a fight over your mom?” and while I’m not condoning beat downs (yes, yes I am, especially when the person being beaten down is one Steve “Textured Plush” SAUNders), I would think defending your mom’s honor might be pretty important for a guy. But I guess not for Brandon. So basically, someone could come along and inform Brandon that they and a bunch of friends ran a train on Cindy the night before and Brandon would be all, “Meh.” Because Brandon is a poop stain on the underwear of life. And then Steve’s all, “Yeah. It really bugs me when they say she's washed up, alright? Bugs me even more that the jerk was smaller than me,” and then Brandon sucks, some more, again, and says, “Steve, that guy was built like a wide-load truck, man, it could've happened to anyone. Even me...no, probably not me,” even though Brandon could probably be taken down with one slightly overly-gregarious pat on the back. And then Steve laughs and says, “You know what, Walsh? Glad you moved to town,” which you can file under Things Exactly NO ONE Would Say To Anyone EVER In Real Life.

Season 1; Ep. 21 - Spring Dance: A Little Piece Of Me Died While Writing This One. Namely, My Female Anatomy. Because Steve, Steve's Coif, Steve's Personality And Steve's Existence In The World.

Aaaaaaaand, here we go. The Penultimate. The Only One Besides "Isn't It Romantic?" That Anyone Cares About This Whole Bloody (FUCKING) Season. Seriously. The writers should've just killed off Brandon, Steve, Kelly, AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea, Donna, David and Jim in some kind of Melrose Place-ian exploding field trip "accident" and renamed the show Beverly Hills Awesome: With Brenda, Dylan, Coked-Up Jackie, Our Felice and Sometimes Cindy and called it a goddamn day. Alas, this never happened. But pathetic life-failures winners such as myself can continue to dream of this reality. So. Let's hit this. 

I...there are no words left. It's not even the end of Season 1 and THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO SAY. Steve's a pile of puke. Brandon's a pile of puke. I hate them both. What more do you want from me, people?

ANYway, they're walking down the hall talking about some Spring Dance and Revolting Steve with his flesh-colored hair is all, "Oh, Brandon. Spring is in the air and it is driving me crazy. Smell that?" and Brandon asks, "What?" and Steve says, "That sweet, overripe flower scent. Nature's doing its thing and it's turning me into a total dog," because he is the exact opposite of well-adjusted and thinks that anyone of the opposite sex would give him one nano-second of thought, time, breath, attention, regard, consideration. And then Brandon's all, "Down boy," and Steve's all, "Oh, oh, put me on a leash," and then I choked on my own bile and passed out for an hour or five and my boyfriend found me and rushed me to the emergency room and I plan on forwarding all of my medical bills to one Steve "Looks Like A Merkin, But Isn't" SAUNders.

And then they stop dead in the hall and see my Hetero Life Mate Darla Diller, who you might remember as "Janine," Roger "Robert" Azarian's "girlfriend" in Poor Little Rich Boy: The Autobiography of Roger "NO ONE INCLUDING ANYFUCKINGONE CARES" Azarian.

And then Darla walks by and THIS HONEST TO GOD HAPPENS and instead of actually continuing on with this ludicrous scene, I think I will instead write the suicide note I plan to leave behind for my family and friends. But first, I'll give you the nauseating details of Steve telling Brandon that he's already rented a hotel room, AT SIXTEEN, in the hotel where the dance is being held so that he can fuck Darla. Queasy yet? Totally? Yeah, me too.

Programming Note: I WANT TO LIVE AGAIN! But Really, FUCK YOU Guy At Disneyland Whose Contaminated Sneezy Droplets I Walked Into While In Line For Pirates Of The Caribbean. Because You Failed To Cover Your Mouth. Because You're A Pig-Dog.

Ahh. This picture of These Hot Sluts
will take the pain away.

I'm certain everyone's been waiting with bated breath and/or has been residing on pins and needles for my next Brandon and Steve SAUNders tirade-and-obscenity-marinated slam piece pièce de résistance. I mean, my email inbox has been completely empty as always teeming with messages from desperate fans, imploring me to write more, more, MORE! And to that I say: step off, people! What, are your lives so pathetic like mine and completely dominated by a 23-year-old television show? Get a grip! I have no life, at all a life too, ya know. And by "I have a life too," I of course mean, "I've been sicker than shit with some kind of Demon Crud and will probably Poor (Almost Dead) Scott Scanlon myself any day now."

Don't you think you've run the
"Poor (Nearly At The End)
Scott Scanlon" analogies into the ground,
you ask? Answer:
THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE.

But really, to NO ONE ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH'S everyone's delight, I am - hopefully - on the mend, as I finally dragged my hypochondriac ass to an Urgent Care facility yesterday (in The Valley; GROSS, RIGHT? But it was actually the nice part of The Valley, so no, I didn't run into anyone with a grown-out perm masquerading as a comb-over and wearing tawny-colored, rayon-blend EVERYTHING) and got hooked up with something called a "Z-Pak," which totally sounds neon and hip and part of the lyrics from "Summertime" and regurgitated straight out of 1991, so there's no way it's NOT going to work, right? RIGHT?


(Oh, and I also "Pulled a Jay Sherman" and fucked up my back while hitting some fungos to a bunch of overprivileged asshole kids from West LA...meaning, I've been coughing for three weeks straight and strained my left lower back/buttock area. And have been shuffling around the house in my white tennis shoes and grubby Tony Soprano robe acting like a real bag of dicks. But really, I think God is actually just a huge Jim Walsh fan and decided to Teach Me A Lesson about taking on his Beloved Walsh Patriarch.)

Oh, Jim, you smarmy fuckwit wrapped in a douche pouch
wrapped in a mound of wrinkled foreskins wrapped in
a Talbots crew-neck sweater.

What I'm trying to say is that once this Steve-SAUNders-Of-A-Bacterial-Infection exits my body, I'll be back to business as usual, i.e. coming here to spread my written diarrhea upon the world. And by "the world," I of course mean, "the handful of people who were not-at-all blackmailed by me into reading this smut." Until then, I'll be busy scouring the internet, looking for the variety of diseases my symptoms are indicative of. So far, I've narrowed it down to AIDS with a side of goiter. Bacterial infection, MY ASS. It's ALWAYS something far worse, like cancer or shooting yourself in the gut on your birthday. (See? It never gets old!) Until we meet again!

Season 1; Ep. 20 - Spring Training: If You Don't Have Time To Read This, Here's A Sypnopsis: Everyone Associated With Youth League Sports Is God Awful. And Yes, That's What This Entire Episode Amounts To.

In which I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ANYMORE. We've truly hit a new low here, people. A plot about the politics of Little League baseball??? Seriously??? This is what it's come to? IS THIS REAL LIFE??? NO ONE, INCLUDING ALL THE WORLD, CARES. We also have to deal with some douche kid named Noah (no, not Hunter...

...THANK EVERYTHING) who couldn't be more offensive if he came into your house and shatted on your face while you slept. Oh, and there's a subplot involving Brenda and a dog, and everyone is just really dreadful and I hate storylines involving animals, because I'm the type that won't see a movie if there's a potential for pet neglect/death, and I also see news stories about wildfires or tornadoes or hurricanes wiping out hundreds of homes somewhere, and my first thought is never "I hope everyone made it out okay," but rather, "I hope all the animals in those houses made it out okay." I'll exit this paragraph on a high note, however: no David! Or Scott! For the third episode in a row! I think Poor (Soon-To-Be) Dead Scott may now be Poor (Is-Now) Dead Scott Who Shot His Friend David ("You're So Precious To Me") Silver Before Turning The Gun On Himself. And I'm okay with that. LET'S DANCE.

We open with a bunch of this. Brenda running. In Steve SAUNders slouchy socks and really, really offensive shorts. Whatever.

So then this sweet muffin of a dog comes to run alongside her. And he's so handsome! But because his owners are more than likely rich dickbags who view pets as mere possessions, he's loose on the streets. I see that Beverly Hills pet-parents are just as derelict as Beverly Hills human being-parents. Awesome. ANYway, here is what Brenda says to the dog: "Hey, puppy. Where are you going? Getting in shape, huh? Well you better go home. C'mon, puppy. Go! Go home! Puppy, go home. Please, puppy, go home! Go! Look, I mean it. Get lost, go home. Please. C'mon, go home. Go home, get out of here. Damn it, puppy, go home." Just like me, that dog has zero fucks left to give about this plot line, this episode, and really, this fucking season as a whole.

HORK. We cut over to this: a bunch of pieces of white trash, sashaying around a baseball diamond. And Jim's all, "Hey, Dave!" to the Bob Saget-y guy on the right, and then he says, "Meet my expert coaching staff. My son Brandon; his friend, Steve SAUNders," and apparently, no one has a problem with the fact that Steve is WEARING A BELLY-SHIRT. OH, YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME??? HERE YOU GO:

BELL.Y. SHIRT. YUP. This, paired with the almost-mullet is just...too much for me and my stomach lining to bear. PLEASE DOUSE YOURSELF IN GASOLINE AND LIGHT A MATCH STEVE. ANYhow, Bob Saget's name is actually Dave Franklin, and he's the president (or "El Presidente," as Jim calls him, PUKE) of the West Beverly Hills Baseball League, and MIDRIFF-BARING Steve thinks that they should get Dave's son, Davey (oh, how twee) on their team, and of course the elder Franklin is a pathetic, living-vicariously-through-his-son piece of shit, so he tells them, "I think that could be arranged," and then he asks Jim, "So, for the tryouts, you up to hitting some fungos?" and even though my brother played Little League for FOREVER when we were kids, I had never heard that word before transcribing this episode and looking up the definition. I just thought Dave was propositioning Jim. You know...sexually. And Jim goes to hit the kids fly balls (which is basically what a "fungo" is) and Steve asks Brandon, "So how tight is your dad with Franklin?" and that also sounds pretty sexual, but whatever, and Brandon says, "Well, they work together, so they're pretty tight I think," and all this Jim-Danny Tanner fan-fic erotica is giving me a case of the vapors. And Steve is lacking in EVERYTHING EVER and is all, "Well, than you can bet ol' Franklin's gonna make sure his good buddy gets all the best players."

And then the Non-Hilarity continues when Steve asks Brandon, "Say, is your dad any good?" since he's apparently just fallen out of Leave it to Beaver, because who other than fucking Wally and The Beav would use, "Say," before beginning any sentence??? ANYHOW, Brandon non-answers Steve with, "He loves baseball," and Steve says, "But is he any good?" And Brandon tells him to see for himself, and of course, we cut over to Jim attempting a to hit a "fungo" and then he jerks his upper body around and makes this face, which looks like an angry beej face to me (continuing the sexual overtones of this whole scene) except that really, he just screwed up his back. Also: I think my dad owned at least seven of the same sweatshirt Jim is wearing in this scene in 1991.