Yes, my cold is still present and accounted for. No, I'm not still on medication. Yes, I've switched to vodka. No, not with tonic or soda. Yes, with orange juice, you know, for the vitamin C and all. No, this recap probably won't be as detailed as the last one. Yes, Hank4 sucks ass. No, you may not know who Hank4 is. No, I don't care. No, I hope he doesn't live through the week. Yes, I may be the one who kills him.
Ahem.
In the little prequel to the opening credits, we see poor divorce-ridden Allie's mum bitching about how Allie's not really going after the Ivy League, the beautiful-yet-misunderstood-overachieving Anna fending off her Princeton-pushing off-screen mother, the financial-aid-seeking-yet-underachieving-bad-haircut-having Pablo listening as a counselor tells him to get on the ball, and everyone's favorite doormat-with-astonishingly healthy teeth, Saran-Wrap, going on about how impending separation from Robby the Roadster is scaring the shit outta her.
Off-screen during the black-n-white expo screen, Puck Lite's sad excuse for a father is berating him about shooting paintball guns off in the backyard, and Puck Lite is arguing that they're biodegradable and therefore, you know, cool and stuff. Daddy Lite doesn't give a damn, because they're all over the bloody backyard and this makes him a mite klimpy (tm Sandman).
Fade in to Puck Lite pointing his paintgun at his parents and stating, "Say what a nice child I am. On camera. Now!" Mama Lite succinctly and sweetly says, "You're a jerk." Daddy Lite says, "What, at pain of death? Are you kidding?" And they're both sitting at the kitchen table with full beers, smoking cigarettes. And THEY'RE bitching about HIM? It's not even dark outside and these two fuck-its are hanging out in their kitchen practically BEGGING me to go all social services on their asses. Shoot them, Morgan. SHOOT THEM NOW. I'll even provide you with an airtight alibi, dude. Seriously.
"I can't lie," says Papa Puck, "in front of the camera." "Don't you wanna have some fun in your life?" "I'm looking forward to having fun after you're gone," says Father of the Year. "Asshole," says Mother of the Year. After Puck Lite's stepped out, Daddy Lite, face in palm, articulately says, "Um." Mama Lite says, "And Job thought he had it bad." What? What'd she just say? Job had to endure the wrath of a God that purportedly loved him, not an intense and scattered kid with ADD and an overactive mouth. Shut up, Mama Lite, before I come over there and kick your beer-swilling ASS. I may kill her before I kill Hank4. ["Seriously. My parents sat around drinkin' and smokin' in the kitchen all the time but at least they thought we were the greatest things since sliced bread. The hell?" -- Sars]
Two seconds of abhorrent edgy credits later...
AAAAAAHHHHH! What is it? Stop that! Get away!
Oh, it's just the Roadster in close-up. Whew. Anyway, Roadster's saying, "High school is...stupid. That's the bottom line. A bunch of fucking bureaucratic administrators trying to cage in adolescent youths that need to be...roaming free." Oh, really? How profound of him. Little mini-montage of the kids gettin' down, gettin' funky, to some song from the Go soundtrack. Suzy comes on and says, "You're not a kid anymore when you do your own laundry and I do my own laundry." Yes. That's right, Suzy. The passage into adulthood actually involves using fabric softener and a decent "fluff" cycle. And then Saran-Wrap says, "I clean my own room and make my own bed." Um. Um. I've made my own bed since I was about twelve. Does this mean I could have been voting, driving, drinking, and having sex since that time? Damn. Why didn't someone forward a copy of that memo to me? I have been missing out!
Switch to Puck Lite and a couple of his buds sucking down helium as Puck Lite intones off-screen, "I don't do any, like, drugs or anything like that after school, or drink or smoke or anything like that. I'm a clean kid." And right here, right now, I'd like to publicly apologize for those earlier recaps where I gave Mouth a lot of shit. I know now that I really, really like him. I didn't drink or do drugs in high school and I was STILL kind of a freak. I am now a full-on card-carrying member of the Puck Lite fan club. He rocks. So hard.
What. Is. That.
Holy Mother. It's Scott and some no-haired friend wearing what are obviously chick tops. And not just ANY chick tops, but tops that have price tags hanging off of them which, you know, means THEY'RE OUT IN PUBLIC TRYING ON WOMEN'S CLOTHING. What the -- but before I can figure out just what they're doing, they run back into the dressing rooms, and we're on to Allie's place, where she's letting in some friends and we see some liquor being poured and then Allie's saying in an interview, "We can't talk without screaming or fighting...I can't do this anymore. I'm exhausted. I am tired of this."
Then that same chick that I didn't know from the last episode is onscreen talking about how everybody gets in a bad mood sometimes and that she's been in, like, a bad mood her whole life. Who the hell is she? Are we EVER going to meet her? I am so confused.
Quick shot of Pablo with some more of his skanky hos. Then Pablo's saying, "Right now? As long as I got an apartment? I don't really care what else happens to me." Is it too early in the recap for me to say I want to hit him over the head with something other than a Nerf bat? No? Okay, good. Make it a two-by-four, then. And make it good.
Then Roadster's on-screen again, saying, "One cannot discover new land without consenting to lose sight of the shore." What? What'd he say? Shut up, Roadster. Just. Shut. Up.
up? Anna. Sitting pretty by the lake, hair a-flowin' and perfect skin a-glowin'. Gee. I wonder who chose this location for Anna's little interview. Nobody's grooming her for a future as a network anchorwoman or anything. "I am," says Anastasia, "I am ready to leave my home." Make way for Anastasia's personal segment.
Anna's in her kitchen, filling out her Brown University application as her mother hovers over her all, "This is what I've been waiting for! For you to fill out college applications! It's like, I can decide what college I would want to go to." She then turns to Anna's father and says, "Does anything come to mind for you, Abe?" Anna's father, who has a slight accent that I can't place, says, "No. I've never been to Rhode Island. At all." Then we get a close-up of Anna's eyes, which so obviously say, "Oh, drop dead, Daddy."
Okay. Just got back from running yet another dry cycle for my darks which, apparently, have decided to soak up half of Lake Michigan and not let it go for the duration of one forty-minute cycle. Oh, and some dipstick from somewhere else in the building has decided to take over the one remaining dryer by placing their articles of clothing within and placing a large Bloomie's bag on top and then NOT PICKING UP THEIR DRY CLOTHES UNTIL JANUARY. Fucker. I know who it is, too. It's this guy who lives across the courtyard who doesn't seem to own a laundry hamper or laundry basket, who carts his dirty whatnots around in paper bags and then overtakes a chosen laundry room and then hovers over said laundry room like a post-apocalyptic vulture in case any poor unsuspecting tenant should try to remove his wet and/or dry articles from a particular machine in order to do their own laundry. Whatever. I mean, WHATEVER. At least I got me some more vodka...
So Anna's sitting at the kitchen table still, and her mother-without-purpose fidgets nearby. "Am I making you nervous, Anna?" she asks, flitting about and touching Anna intermittently with little bee-feelers. "Yes, no, I mean," Anna sputters, wishing she were in London having pints with Ewan McGregor and his penis. Oh. I mean, I wish I were in London having pints with Ewan McGregor and his penis. My bad. "You want me to help you?" Freakmama asks. "I'm standing here helping you..." Freakmama realizes that since Anna looks like she's about to have a nervous breakdown, she should back off, and does. "Okay. Okay, I'm done," she says, searching around the kitchen for something to buff or polish.
Anna gets up from the table and walks over to her mother, her astonishing hair all piled up on top of her head like a digital TV cable ready for connection. "That's more than he's talked to me all year," she says, referring to her verbose, multicultural father. "You know what I'm sayin' there?" "Right, but," says Freakmama, "we kind of feed into negative situations when we give people dirty looks." What are you, Queen Elizabeth? Why are you using the royal "we"? Huh? HUH? "Oh, stop," Anna retorts. "You know that's not fair." She grabs her keys and heads toward the door. "It's just best not to show negative thoughts on one's face, that's all I'm saying," says Freakmama. That's it. I've decided that Anna's mother is a Stepford Wife. She just putt-putts through the house, cleaning every possible surface, trying to make it perfect for The Man Who Says Little, never uttering a word out of turn nor an expression that might be found distasteful. "Well, I thought it was best," says Anna, fighting off the hypnotic Stepford laserbeam eyes of her robot mother. "Well, I know that he did not," says Stepford Freakmama. Anna looks back through the slamming screen door as if to say, "Yes, I know you know that he did not. I know this because you've lost the capacity to think for yourself since The Man Who Says Little sucked your brain away. I'm going to get a Slushee. Later."
Anna escapes the danger of the Stepford and walks down toward her car, saying, "My parents were never really on good terms. Junior high, my relationship with my father got really rocky and now, my father and I don't talk at all anymore. And I get really sad when I think about, like, not having a relationship." Switch to Anna, back on the beach, throwing rocks into the water. "And it's weird to think about, like, in ten years, when I'm getting married, you know, who's gonna walk me down the aisle?" she says in VO. Word. My father died of cancer two years ago this past January and, even though I'm not even remotely interested in getting married, you know, EVER, I think about missing the chance to have his hilarious white-haired head and curmudgeonly heart not walking me down the proverbial aisle. It's something that every girl out there dreams of, even if she doesn't particularly care about marriage. ["Yeah, it's true. I don't believe in that nuptial tradition at all -- it's like the man is giving you to another man as property -- but if I get married, I will need to stand in the back of the church with my dad and make fun of people to soothe my nerves while my dad is all 'I can't believe you made me wear a tie on a SATURDAY.' Aw, dads. Anyway." -- Sars] And, down on the shore, Anna becomes a member of the "Regina LIKES You" club when she turns to the camera and says, "I have to learn how to skip stones one of these days," and chucks a non-skipping stone at the water. Yeah. I kinda love Anna right now. But I've also been an emotional wreck for the past two days and I'm drinking my third vodka and OJ. Heh.
"Dad?" says Allie in a switch-cut from Anna, talking to her fuckwick of a father on the cordless. "I can tell you that, I would not drop out, but, if you're saying that, like, drop out and move out, dude, I'd move out and I'd still go to school. And I'd still do my shit." Let's greet Allie and her personal segment, shall we?
Over a series of still shots of Allie (a trademark of the show, as far as I can tell), Allie tells us in VO, "I really just can't wait for college. Cuz I'm just waiting till I burst. Where you've still got these strings to your parents but, slowly, they're being cut." Allie then bids the Fuckwick adieu and hangs up the phone. The phone rings, and the machine picks up, and the Fuckwick starts leaving a rambling, pseudo-parental message about her being on her own and shit, and finally Allie walks down the hallway and picks up the phone. "What? No. I'm not taking my car. Yes. I am going out tonight," she says. Her conversation with him continues as her VO explains, "My mom, my dad got divorced and, it's hard. It's confusing. And for me? Anything I can't make logic of...tears me apart." Back in Allie's bedroom, she's still talking to the Fuckwick. "If you wanna call the cops on me, go ahead. It's your choice," she says tearfully, hanging up the phone. In an interview, Allie says, "I just find myself at a loss, cuz," she starts crying, "I feel like...I'm kinda what's left of the marriage, you know?"
Wow. I mean, wow. And not in any sarcastic kind of way. Jesus. Really. Shit. I hope she's okay now. I really do. I really, really do. Okay. Where're the tissues? No. I'm not kidding. Shut up. SHUT UP.
Oh, thank GOD the Roadster's on the rampage. He takes me right outta this emotional ditch I've dug for myself...
Roadster's walking through his kitchen, and his mom asks where he's going, to which he responds, "To Sarah's." Shocker. "Why?" says Roadster's mom. "Mom! I have no homework --" "Robby, you're not going out every night!" says Mother Roadster. "Why?" questions Roadster again. "I have no homework --" "Well, you're not...no. You're not going out every night," says Mother Roadster. "This is not...uh...uh...going out every night." "Mom!" says Roadster. "Robby!" says Mother Roadster. "I've worked hard for three and a half years to where I wanna --" "Robby, you didn't work that hard so don't tell me that." "Mom. I'm gonna do what I wanna do," Robby says, parading off to his SUV.
God, I hate recapping dialogue.
Roadster drives off and expositions about how his mom cares about him so much and that she's worried about him going off to college and letting him go and how it's hard for her to handle. In an interview with Roadster's mom, she says, "As a parent, I give him a lot of leeway. I don't want him to hurt himself in any way."
thing we see is Allie, getting out of a car, telling the driver that she'll be right back. Then she's running toward her building. In a voice-over, we can hear Allie telling her mother that she's sleeping out tonight and her mother telling her that if she (Allie) leaves the apartment, she'll be very sorry that she (Allie) chose to handle it that way. I don't really know to what she's (Allie's mother) referring, but I can only assume that she means the entire divorce situation. I really don't know, because during this entire voice-over conversation, Allie's just running up to the apartment. "I am telling you, right now, if you leave this house -- sit DOWN -- you're making a major mistake, Allie," says Allie's mom. "Okay," says Allie in voice-over. And then we see Allie slamming out of the apartment with bag in tow; the conversation with her mother never actually appears onscreen.
Allie storms out of the building, screaming, "You can't get to me, Mom!" Allie gets into her friend's car and says, "I'm really sorry but, she cannot control me like that." She goes on to say that they can be the best of friends when things are good. Allie feels like she's some horrible person but really, she's not. "I do everything for her!" she says. "And she thinks everything is against her!" Allie tries to talk about it more but, you know, she really just wants to shove her mother up against a wall and say, "IT'S OVER. IT'S WAAAAAAAY OVER. MOVE ON!" Okay. Maybe that's just my own deep psyche coming up and telling me the same thing but, you know, WHATEVER.
thing we know, we're with Roadster and Saran-Wrap, and Saran-Wrap is all going off on Roadster's mother and...okay...I could document this conversation but Roadster's slurring his words, and I don't really like him when he's with Saran-Wrap so I'm not even going to bother putting this down on paper. Or even web-paper, if you know what I mean. Shut up. SHUT UP. God. ["And…Saran? Don't diss the mom. It's bad form. Just stay out of it." -- Sars]
For a moment, we're doing a Playboy close-up of Saran-Wrap as she waxes pathetic about how she's been a bitch to Roadster these past few days. Oh, really? Like, what? Have you not offered to suck his dick between physics and social sciences? Whatever, dude. CUT THE CORD. NOW. "It's really strange how life works," Sister Saran-Wrap exposits. "Just this road that we're all traveling on. I have no idea where my road is gonna take me." "There's so many choices. So many paths to follow. To go down. I don't know which one is the right path for me," says Roadster in a self-interview. I have a path for you to follow, Monkey-chee. The path of least resistance. Give over to the Saran-Wrap. Don't go to college. Live your life in a mobile home with eighteen children and a credit-card debt larger than Wyoming. Go for it, dude. Ew. He's wearing a shirt that matches his sheets. Isn't that punishable by death in some countries? I think it is. No, really. I think it is.
"One. Two. Three. Four. I love the Marine Corps."
Who said that? Who just said that? Is the Tastee-Freez trailer running a different song on his loudspeaker? Who the --
Oh, fuck. It's Pablo. And he's actually reciting this little poem to the Mini-Pablo. Hasn't she been traumatized enough? I mean, four years old and she's being forced to sport Pablo's pathetic hairdo? I think that's a prescription for at least twenty years of therapy.
"I love the Marine Corps," says Mini-Pablo. We're too late. We've lost her.
"My mother is going through a 'I will not pay for anything unless you totally obey me' phase. So, for the past, like, three months, I've been basically supporting myself," says P-man. Then we're in his TV room and he's watching Full Metal Jacket on a big-screen TV. A BIG-SCREEN TV. Something I don't even have. He's watching Full Metal Jacket on a big fucking screen TV. With his sister. WITH HIS FOUR-YEAR-OLD SISTER. Make that a four-by-four. I'm gonna leave a dent in his fucking head. "I go upstairs to watch TV, talk on the phone, and then basically spend, two hours at best, in this house. Every chance I get, I just tell her to screw it. I don't need her," P-man continues. Really? You don't need her? Will you have a big-screen TV in this fantasy apartment you think you're actually going to get? You with no job, no future, no real intention to contribute to the general society? Oh, please. Just....sh. Shhhhhh. I don't want to have to sew your mouth up with dental floss and make a granny's knot, okay?
Then Pablo's on a sofa with his mom and she's saying, "You wanna go to the Marines? No, don't tell me that. You're not going to the Marines, that's for sure." "If I want to go off on my own," says Pablo, "it's one of the things that I might want to do." In a VO, Pablo says, "If I decide to give four years of my life to the Marines, it's a price of independence. I want it to be me who's going off to college and I want to teach my parents that I can live on my own and that I will live on my own. And that I don't want the strings attached."
And the armed forces are DEFINITELY the way to go, you hopeless poetic tool.
True to form, in the scene, Pablo's lounging around in bed while his mother berates him for sleeping in. Pablo manages to make it out of the house fully clothed and without the requisite sword and gun that the Marines require.
"Mom, are you still mad at him?" Pablo asks, once inside the car. "Yes," says his mother. "I want a divorce." "I think we've heard that one before," says Pablo. "So, are you gonna go on number four now?" "I don't know what I'm doing in the future, Pablo," says Mama Pablo. "I don't wanna talk about your girlfriends, why do I have to talk about my life?" "Because, Mother," says P-man, lounging in the back of his mother's van, "your husbands are a bit different than girlfriends." "Pablo," says Mother, "I don't know why, but, I don't like it when you say, 'Mother.'" Pablo goes on to say that this is her title. I just want to take a steel pin and prick his eyeball. Really. I do. Mother Pablo doesn't like this "Mother" moniker because she thinks he's saying it sarcastically. "Do you want me to call you 'Mommy'?" Pablo asks. "Yah," says Mother Pablo. "This is nice." "That's childish," says the boy sporting a hairdo that most four-year-olds would balk at. "You disappoint me, Pablo," says Mother Pablo. "But I'm okay." "Mom, you too," says Son of the Year. God, I fucking HATE him.
Pablo's late to class, but the scene we see is him with a college counselor, talking to him about financial aid. Then we're in the counselor's office, and some blondie is telling Pablo about community college and how if he stays there a year and gets decent grades, all the high school stuff, well, they don't look at that. "So, it's got a lot of pluses, in addition to costs and saving money," says Señora Counselor. Some youthful counselor in a hideous tie-dye tells Pablo that he should run his entrance essay past the counselors before sending it in, you know, if he has any doubts. SHE'S WEARING TIE-DYE. Would you run YOUR essay past a tie-dye sporting freaknut? I don't think so.
Pablo leaves, and we're suddenly following Anna through the hallway to the accompaniment of some weird circus music. Then she's in a small room with some other students with a recruiter from Brown University. "How many of you have actually visited Brown?" Marzipan-Face says, in an accent that no human being could ever place. Someone answers affirmatively, and Marzipan says, "That's great," and then goes on to speak about a bunch of different things that, quite frankly, I can't really understand because SHE'S COMPLETELY UNINTELLIGIBLE. I don't know what the fuck she's talking about. Really.
Then Anna's walking down the hallway, talking about how she daydreams about getting into Brown. She pictures her mother coming down the hallway, Man Who Says Little not in tow, saying, "Anna! Anna!" and then the lights come on and Anna's suddenly a star, on a stage somewhere, famous as all get-out. Just for getting into Brown. Wow. I think I need to revisit my old high school at some point and talk to somebody about how little hope they had about how I'd end up at an Ivy League school. Cuz, you know, about two percent of our graduating class went onto the Ivy League. And, really, all the rest of us hated their fucking asses.
Oh. Did I say that out loud? My bad.
Anna walks into a school office or something and comes face to face with her mother, who asks how it went, and Anna, flustered, realizes she forgot to give something to the Brown recruiter and runs out.
Then Allie's walking into a classroom and slamming down a sheaf of paper along with a floppy. "This is my paper," she says, stoner cap firmly in place. "A hundred and nine pages of gibberish. If I could put it on here..." It's pretty damn clear that Allie has not only not done her assignment, but has failed to come up with a decent excuse for not doing her assignment. All in front of a teacher who, quite frankly, looks like a guy I used to go to drama class with, beard included. The teacher's not really sure what Allie wants him to do with this pile of crap. In a VO, Allie clues us in by telling us that today is the actual day that her parents get divorced. This is the day that they sign the papers. Okay, the girl is FREAKING. Okay? OKAY?
In an interview, Allie talks about how this whole divorce thing is fucking up her relationship with her mother. Apparently, last night (last night when? last night before Allie handed in her half-assed attempt at an assignment? or last night before the prom? or last night before I kick the AH people for not giving us a clue as to the timeline?), Allie and her mother talked about their relationship and how they've both got problems but they need to work through them together.
thing we see, Allie is walking down a hallway, and, in a voice-over, talking about how her mother is the first person to show up at the school and fight for her and find out how she (Allie's mother) can help her. So, we're in some counselor's room with Allie and her mother and...
This fifteen-year-old counselor pipes up that she and Allie had a conversation about year and what Allie wants to do, and what she (the counselor) surmised from this conversation was that Allie was undecided. "It really, um, disturbs me," says Allie's mom, "to think of Allie not going away to school year. My gut feeling is, the desire to go to school will be...gone." It would seem that Allie's mom is convinced that, if Allie doesn't go to college thirty seconds after graduating high school, she's going to laze around on her fat, no-job-having, no-future-sporting ass watching Springer and lighting farts with her other anti-college buds. I can tell that at this point, Allie really wants to tell her mother to park her 'tude and take her anger out on the person who really deserves it: The Fuckwick. Seriously.
After Glenda the Good Counselor lectures Mother Allie about loving her daughter, we're riding shotgun in Allie's car, watching her smoke and sing along to some ovary tunes on the stereo as her VO informs us that she acknowledges that she baits her mother sometimes during their fights and doesn't know why. She goes on to say that there are so many things that she wants to do, but if she doesn't do what she's supposed to do right now, she won't be able to do them, and you do that voodoo that you do so well. Or something like that. And then we have to endure at least two minutes of Allie sitting in the car, smoking and singing, and it's only because she made me cry about twenty minutes ago that I'm not walking out on her little musical interlude in order to refill my drink.
Then we're cruising the Highland Park hallowed halls, and Allie walks into the pre-teen counselor's office (actually, she looks a bit like a less-attractive Martha Quinn). After Ugly Martha barks at Allie about what colleges she's applied to, Allie tells her Northern Colorado, Fort Louis, and Arizona State University. Ugly Martha and Allie then have an almost unintelligible conversation about some sort of tests, which makes no sense to me, so I'm only mentioning it here so you know I actually DID watch the show.
Okay, so, what the hell is Pablo doing in the back seat of some jarhead's car? Is this where the Marines hold their recruiting sessions? Wow. Guess they're hard up for cash. Jarhead asks Pablo what he does for fun. "Oh, you know, the usual," says Pablo. "Mope around, bitch about not having any freedom or respect, eat Cheetos and wonder how long I can live on my mother's sofa before she notices I'm forty-three and I've never had a job." Okay, so he says some shit about poetry and writing. Right. Because the Marines are all about poetry. Really. Robert Frost was a Marine, I think. Or maybe he just liked marinas. Yeah. That's it.
In an interview, Pablo says, "At first I had all these naive ideas about why it is I should join the Marines. And, I always thought it'd be a good place for poetry. I wanna be one of those guys who makes up those rap things. You know, 'ONE TWO THREE FOUR! I DON'T WANT TO GO TO WAR!'"
Oh. My. God.
So, anyway, Pablo's in the Marine recruiting office, and Jarhead Deux is asking Pablo to go through some plastic tiles with things like "Self-Reliance. Self-Direction. Self-Discipline" stamped on them. Pablo's supposed to lay them out according to what he most wants to get out of the Marines. Of course, Pablo's first choice is "Financial Security, Advancement and Benefits." See, Pablo's not interested in actually participating in the Marine way of life; he just needs the pocket money. Then he goes off to take some Marine assessment test, which he sails through with flying colors. He performs so well on this test that Jarhead Deux immediately asks Pablo if he's ready to join the Marines. RIGHT THEN AND THERE. See? Told you. Hard up for cash. And recruits. And clues.
Back at Casa de Pablo, Pablo's watching that famous army recruitment film, Full Metal Jacket, and going off about how he doesn't really believe in war and that, if he joined the Marines and, God forbid, we went to war, he just, you know, wouldn't go and shit. Right. Because the Marines are all about conscientious objectors. Really.
Then Anna's filming her mother and asking her what her dreams are. "In the near future," says Stepford Wife, "my dream would be that your college education would be all paid for --" Anna cuts her off, saying, "I meant for yourself." "Well, that is for myself," retorts Robot Mom. "Because then we wouldn't have a...a debt." Anna's waiting. "I don't dream like that," says Stepford. "I don't dream." "I'm asking you to," pleads Anna. "I don't think that way," says Stepford. Wrong. You don't think. AT ALL. But I must say that she looks incredibly sad right here and I feel kind of sorry for her. You know, not having any human organs and all.
Okay. No more close-ups of Roadster. PLEASE. He's blah-blah-ing about how right now he feels trapped and cut off and how he just wants to be free. Free like a bird. FREEEEEE. Because, you know, having your own paid-for SUV, a hot girlfriend, and the college of your choice busting down your door isn't at all "free," right, Roadster? Shut up. Then Roadster's sitting in some girl's car as they're driving around. "I love going downtown," says Roadster, "because there are so many hot girls." Dude. You're banging a hot chick. She's stupid and clingy and irritating, but she's definitely hot. And, you know, if you think any of those "hot girls" walking around downtown Chicago would give your bony ass a second glance, you've got another think coming, moron. Stick with Saran-Wrap. For some unknown reason, she actually CHOOSES to be with you.
Then we get some dual-action Roadster/Saran-Wrap interview time. Roadster ponders getting married to Saran-Wrap and having beautiful kids. Saran-Wrap ponders whether or not Roadster's really the one. Roadster states that we all have dreams. Saran-Wrap states that she could find the man of her dreams year. Roadster announces that the world is a big place. Saran-Wrap announces that life is a journey, dude. Roadster claims that you just have to ride life. Saran-Wrap claims that the best part about life is the journey.
I postulate that neither Puck Lite's parents nor Hank4 are going to be the first people I kill. Roadster and Saran-Wrap? Life ain't much of a journey WHEN YOU'RE DEAD.
week: More college pressure, it would seem. Lots of slamming down of phones and yelling of voices. Just wait until they graduate from college and get real jobs. It only gets better.