Oooooh...Mouth's in trouble...
As the show opens, Mouth's getting tagged by Mama Mouth. It would seem that our little Mouthy is bypassing that whole tradition of corsage-giving and instead has made a little sojourn to Victoria's Secret. No, not to buy something for himself; to buy something for Salima. No, not a tasteful soap set or a soft flannel robe. Yeah, it's a bra and panty set. Hee.
"You should see it, Al!" Mama Mouth whines to her husband. "It's a thong for God's sake!" Dude. Mouth. Way to go. God knows that I'd much rather get a thong and bra set before a high-school dance than a corsage. For one thing, I'd actually get some USE out of the thong and bra set, whereas the corsage would die a swift and painless death in my garbage can. Way to be both sexy AND practical, Mouth. Rock on.
Mouth's mom unloads half a bottle of Wesson oil into a frying pan and orders Mouth to exchange the gift for something a wee bit more appropriate or he'll be risking the wrath of Papa Salima. Mouth just shoves his way out the door, shouting, "Peace out! Love you!" "Morgan!" his mother calls out after him. "Something flannel would be nice!" Yeah, maybe for you, Mama Mouth. But I'm pretty sure the only flannel that Salima's ever come in contact with is the grungy plaid shirt she wears when she goes to Nirvana cover band concerts down in Bucktown. Stick with the thong, Mouth. Trust me on this one.
In the traditional opening video montage, we're introduced to this week's theme: Love Stinks. Yeah, yeah. Once again, a kid with whom I'm not familiar speaks into the camera at one point and coins the term "breastanality" when referring to the gentle orbs that appear on the front of most young ladies. Hee. "Breastanality."
Then we see a sort of mini-montage of Morgan and Salima, wrestling and tickling and kissing and play-fighting, as Morgan tells us that it's a very up-and-down relationship and that her parents alternately love and hate him. Then the kuddly kouple is in the kitchen, and Morgan's dad asks if Morgan's planning on going to the dance or not. Well, since his GIRLFRIEND has already purchased tickets, I'd say, yeah, he's going. "Are you taking Morgan or are you taking someone nice?" jokes Papa Mouth. Salima laughs sarcastically and assures him that she's taking Morgan. Mouth chugs orange juice from the carton and is about to put the cap back on when Papa mouth says, "Morgan, I don't want your herpes. Wipe the lid off before you put the cap back on." Uh. Remember when I said I started digging Mouth's dad? Yeah. Scratch that. Nothing like some unnecessary herpes humor to turn my car around.
Up is Tiffany, the first black student that I think we've witnessed on American High. She's cool, has braces, is a good dancer, and she's in love with some dude who takes karate lessons. She's been in love with him, like, forever. If by "forever" you mean "since you were a freshman." She says that it's the kind of crush where you can't breathe when the crushee walks past. Sigh. I love those crushes. I can't REMEMBER the last time I had a crush like that. Even in the early days with Hank4, it was pretty much "How YOU doin'?" and not "Oh-my-god-here-he-comes-I-can't-contain-myself-I-think-I'm-gonna-pass-out." I miss those crushes. I wish I were back in high school. But, you know, without the classes and the grades and the ostracism and the backstabbing and the bad blue eyeliner.
So, Tiffany's going to ask Drew (the crushee) to the Winter Formal. She's sitting with her friends in the hallway and wonders aloud whether someone named "Fabio" will give a note she's written to Drew. Just when I'm wondering who the hell "Fabio" is, the camera clues me in. Oh. My. God. What. Is. Wrong. With. His. Hair. Dude. "Fabio" is a security guard at the school, and he's apparently spent countless hours and purchased endless streams of Final Net in order to get his hair to resemble a poodle with a scalp problem. He has OBVIOUSLY seen the cover of one too many dime-store romance novels where the bare-chested hero embraces the bosomy heroine and his hair actually ENTWINES with hers. Ew. And, you know, ew.
Okay, anyway, Tiffany hands the note to Fabio and Fabio, being a security guard at Highland Park High School where the most dangerous incident to occur might be, say, one kid threatening another kid that he's going to key his Beemer if he doesn't, like, back off, actually PASSES Tiffany's note to Drew while he's in class. Tiffany's friends watch Drew read the note and describe his reaction (which is largely to blush heartily and smile widely as if it's all a big joke) to a waiting Tiffany. "So," asks Tiffany, "what does that mean?" "Means you got a date, dude," says her bud. No, DUDE. It means she got the bad-hair-having Fabio to pass her crush a note during fucking study hall and her crush LAUGHED AT IT. He didn't give a thumbs up. He didn't write something on the note like "Yes" or "Sure" or "I would be honored." HE LAUGHED AT IT. There will be no date. There will be no dance. There will be a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey in Tiffany's near future.
Okay, um. In Suzy's bedroom, she introduces us to her "boyfriend." Yeah. You know. Her boyfriend, THE BACKSTREET BOY. Oh, man. Suzy. Dude. DUDE. Put down the Backstreet Boys book and back away. I mean it. Just put it down, walk over to the opposite side of the room, and I'll just pick the book up with these asbestos gloves I've been saving for this occasion, and then I'll just drop it into a vat of battery acid. Okay? Suzy. SUZY. Gimme the book, Suzy. Drop it. DROP IT.
"It's a weird situation," says Suzy, after I've removed the Backstreet Boys to their permanent home IN HELL, "to be in at this age. To be so totally inexperienced. To be seventeen and not have had your first kiss is, like, freakish. I wonder if kissing is fun?" Oh, God. She's got her hands on another Boys book and, oh, I can't look. SHE'S KISSING THE PICTURE. She is KISSING the picture. Okay, A) there's nothing wrong with being totally inexperienced at age seventeen. Sex is overrated, and this is something Suzy will learn much later in life. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE SEX. It's just that, at seventeen, you're hardly ready to handle it. Especially if you're someone like Suzy. But B) DON'T KISS BOYS IN MAGAZINES. EVER. Not having your first kiss by the time you're seventeen is not freakish. Kissing boys in magazines is. And kissing Backstreet Boys in magazines is just plain uncalled for.
Suzy then tells us that she once really liked this guy but he didn't like her back and it pissed her off. So, instead of stalking him like I would (seriously -- I would), she sanely made a list of her priorities. I'm guessing that boys don't make an appearance on this list. Suzy's desperately serious about becoming an opera singer. She doesn't want boys to distract her from her singing. Right. Whatever gets you through the night, darlin'.
Meanwhile, Mouth and Salima are bitching at each other again. Salima's grades are in trouble, and her parents were considering not letting her go to the winter formal as punishment. Yeah, cuz not letting your kids go to dances is so much like being put in prison for assault and battery. Like, it really holds a ton of weight and resonates for years afterward. Totally.
It would seem that the Parents Mouth and the Parents Salima think that their lovebird children fight too much, and that their relationship isn't very productive and/or healthy. To illustrate this, Papa Mouth starts stalking around the house, shouting at Mouth that this is NOT the time for Salima to be over and that he wants her to go home. Morgan continuously tells his dad to shut up. I continuously tell his dad to shut up. All over the great land of America, viewers continuously tell Mouth's dad to shut up.
Elsewhere in the land of lurve, Tiffany's hanging out with Drew while she tells us about the "emotional connection" that the two of them have. Whatever, dude. You're in high school. HIGH SCHOOL. The only thing with which you might have an emotional connection is your damn Playstation. But then she and Drew are all hugging in the parking lot, so, you know, maybe they actually do have a sort of connection. MAYBE.
Some other day, Tiffany's shopping for a dance dress with a girlfriend. She tries on a couple of really cute ones and her friend's right -- she does have a kickin' bod. Tiffany's VO tells us that her parents basically taught her not to trust anyone and not to invest too much in anyone because they'll just leave her in the dust. I'm assuming that this means Tiffany's parents are divorced, and that it was a bad one, and that she witnessed it, because what kind of parent would knowingly teach their child something like this? That is fucked up, dude. Seriously.
Then Suzy's interviewing herself freaking out about the upcoming dances. "Who am I gonna go to winter formal with? Who am I gonna go to prom with? Aaaaaah," she shouts, putting her hands to her head. I feel you, girl. I wasn't asked to a single dance during high school. NOT ONE. Okay, there were a couple of times I was asked, but the guys that did the asking were pretty damn ooky and I decided it'd be better to stay home alone and watch reruns of Laverne & Shirley with a bag of Lay's rather than endure two hours with a guy named "Maynard." No, I'm not kidding. But I didn't get asked to prom. I think it's because the guys were all afraid of me. No, I'm not an Amazon, and I wasn't one then. I just thought I was beyond high school guys. Which, in all honesty, I probably was. But. That's not the point. The point is, I FEEL YOU, SUZY GIRL.
Suzy winds up supplanting her lacking social life with an audition for the All-State Chorus, and she makes a trip deep into Central Illinois with a bunch of freakish singing people (no, I'm not making a judgment call here -- I was in chorus for a little while too, and let me tell you, we were all freakish singing people, trust me) for the overnight auditions. Unfortunately, even though it seems to be kind of an honor to be asked to audition for this thing, Suzy's the only one who appears to be taking it even remotely seriously. Everyone else is just in it for the par-tay.
Before they even get to their hotel room, Suzy's roommates are asking some of the freakish singing guys to come over later. Suzy is all, "NOOOOOO!!!" Shhh, Suzy. You might just get a prom date outta this. Keep yer cool. So the boys call a bit later, and Suzy tries to thwart their attempts to come a courtin' by telling them that she wants to take a shower and doesn't want them there. Yeah, that'll do it. They're a raging bunch of teenaged hormones, Suzy. THEY'RE COMING UP. A few minutes later, the guys knock at the door, and Suzy all but drills steel-reinforced beams to the door in an effort to keep them out. Her girlfriend is all, "DUDE! They're boys! Move away from the door! Go practice scales or something, okay? Sex is more important than SINGING."
Suzy finally moves away and winds up spending the majority of the time in a chair in the corner, completely losing her shit whenever one of the guys comes near her. "I'm not nervous!" she protests lamely. Oh, you so are, Suzy. You can say all you want that you're not interested in boys and that your precious singing career is more important, but you're practically breaking out in hives at the mere presence of BOYS. Give it up, girl. You're tweaked. A couple of the kids start mock-wrestling as a prelude to what will most likely be their chosen method of foreplay: "No! Don't Tim! DON'T! [giggle giggle] DON'T! [surrender without giving up a fight] STOP IT! [tee-hee tee-hee] TIIIIIIMMMMM!!!" Wake up and smell the letdown, girls. Wrestling does not a good sexual partner make. Start making photocopies of the clitoris now, sweethearts, because these guys couldn't find one with a detailed roadmap and a compass. Trust me.
Suzy tries desperately to get the guys out of the room by using the tried-and-true delivery of a pillow to the head. Then she tells us in an interview that it's frustrating to be different from everybody else. What, everybody else who is rampaging uselessly around a hotel room in their pajamas giggling and wondering what their underbite-having children will look like in their school uniforms? Suzy, you're WAY better than that. It's high time you believed it. Take your late-blooming virgin lips to that audition and kick ass, sweetie, because when all these losers are trying to get a second mortgage to finance their ugly and selfish daughter's med school education, you'll be traveling all over the world and having roses flung at your feet by wealthy European princes with names like "Sebastian" and "Theodopolis." The rest of these pathetic idiots can only dream about the future you'll have, sister.
Okay, so I'm a little bitter. Just a little.
Then we have another one of those snippet lead-in montages where a bunch of the students talk about the theme. The Guy I Don't Know says he hates the winter formal because he thinks it's stupid; Kaytee says, "I'm not going to winter formal because [sad-yet-slightly-disgusted-face] why would I?" (awwwwww); Abby says that she's dateless so far, which kinda sucks (yeah? So do you, Abby. It's called karma, you self-centered whiner -- LOOK IT UP. God, I hate her); Saran-Wrap says that she and Robby decided to go to the formal at the last minute (way to romance her, Roadster); some girl I don't know says she's going with Gus; and some other guy I don't know, WHO'S IN HIS SHOWER, says, "I hope she doesn't, like, put the moves on me." Ew. And EW THAT YOU'RE INTERVIEWING YOURSELF IN THE SHOWER. Double ew.
Back at Singers Central, Suzy's telling us that she tried to really encourage herself about this audition and make herself believe that she can do it. "In order for me to have a happy life," she says, "I have to be a singer." We hear bits of her audition, and she's not bad; in fact, she's got a lovely voice. And she's got a lovely face. And she's a lovely person. Suzy! Call me! You need about eighteen doses of self-love, girlfriend. Truly.
After the weekend, Tiffany tells us that she had the worst weekend ever. It turns out that Drew invited her over to his house, but when she got there, Drew was with another girl. "I was so hurt," she says, "I felt like my heart had just been stomped on." So, she wrote him an email, and he wrote her back and basically said that he's got something going with this chick, but that doesn't mean he doesn't value her friendship and that he loves her like a sister.
What. A crock. Of shit. Little pisher. I mean, really. What a little tool. Talk about your world-class wankers. I wish he would die. RIGHT NOW. Oh, I'm all good enough to hang out with, I'm just a wonder to behold, you can tell me anything, I'm such your best friend, you value me above all else, but, you know, YOU DON'T WANT TO KISS ME OR ANYTHING. Spineless dickwad.
But I'm not bitter.
"'I love you like a sister'," quotes Tiffany. "Don't tell me that, okay? Like, you weren't lovin' me like a sister two weeks ago!" Heh. Then Tiffany's friend is filming her as she goes off on Drew and says that they were "friends 'with benefits.'" Oh, man. I know whereof she speaks. Hello, Hank4, anyone? Dude. Hank4. Over here. Read up, man. Because your "benefits" are no longer available. Grab some Astroglide and a Penthouse and call it a night, because you will get no "Regina Love" anytime soon. Try me.
As Tiffany tells it, she and Drew were knockin' da boots, and it was "special" or something, and I get the feeling that they weren't knockin' ANYTHING and that they maybe might have kissed or hugged or something but it meant a hell of a lot more to Tiffany than it did to Drew (or "Sewer," as I will now refer to him). Welcome to my world, Tiffany. It's kind of chilly over here, isn't it?
Over at Casa de Mouth, he's talking about his acne and his relationship with Salima, and then Salima's telling us that she got into trouble for calling Mouth. Down in Mouth's basement, his VO says, "I mean, I think a lot of parents mean good but, I think a lot of parents need to back off." Word.
Then Suzy's telling us that she thinks she did all right at the auditions, but she's really worried and she just wants to know whether or not she made it. Two seconds later, she gets her chance. A woman I'm assuming is the chorus instructor gathers the students together and informs them in a kind of "okay, so no one made it but you know, you so DID" fashion that makes Suzy initially think she's going to wind up a Tastee-Freez server at Dairy Queen for the rest of her life. Before the disappointment of her potential future can settle on her shoulders, however, the instructor tells them that Suzy and her compatriots made the HONORS chorus. Not just the All-State. THE HONORS. WOOOOO!! Suzy practically passes out from joy.
"I'm never gonna get married," she says in an interview. "Never. But that's okay because I'm gonna be traveling around the world and I won't have time for a husband or a boyfriend then. And that's my rationale for not having a husband or a boyfriend." And then she gives this kind of sad face. Dude. Who said anything about a husband or a boyfriend? They're called "lovers." And they don't buy you engagement rings. They buy you five-room apartments in the Left Bank. They give you a Rolls Royce just because they feel like it. They have accents and take you to Belize for the weekend. They call you "cherie" and "bellissima" and you can forget about husbands and boyfriends, baby. It's all about the international love thang.
And the dance is upon us. We know this because the under-paid janitorial staff is hanging disco balls in the gym and Salima's pasting little gems to her eyes and Salima's parents and Mouth's parents had a meeting of the nations and decided that the kids can do whatever they want and that it's their responsibility. Oh, dude. They're just BEGGING their kids to do it in the backseat of a car on some hilly road. Seriously.
Tiffany, her hair in a towel, tells us that this evening isn't about Sewer; instead, it's about hanging out with her friends. Spoken like a woman who's just been dumped by a moron. Then Salima says that she guesses they just had to learn how to handle their disagreements. What disagreements? The ones where she and Mouth wrestle on the bed and call each other "assholes"? Girl, I'll show you some disagreements. But, you know, not now. Later, when you're not wearing your pretty little dress.
Heh. Heh heh. Mouth is getting ready while listening to "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred. Heh. Papa Mouth rubs the cat hair off of Mouth's black pants, and I giggle uncontrollably when his dad looks the other way for a second and accidentally gets a swab that's a mite too close to the family jewels and Mouth goes, "WHOA DADDY!" Hee. Then Mouth's in front of his mirror and he's dressed all in black and he looks really, really nice. I mean it. He looks good. Our little Pucky cleans up good. The song goes, "On the catwalk, I shake my little tush," and Mouth shakes his little tush in response. HEE.
Salima walks down her stairs, and she looks soooo adorable. Little black dress, clunky black shoes, straight black hair, tiny jewels on her eyes...sigh...they perform the exchange of the corsage (uck) and boutonnière (double uck) and they're both giggly and sweet. "She's got me under a spell," says Mouth. "Like, I think about her all the time. There's not a thought that goes through my mind that doesn't have to do with her and stuff like that. My world rotates around her and as cheesy as that may sound and as stupid as it may sound because we're just kids and stuff like that, it's what I feel on the inside. And kids are just little people. And we're not gonna be that much different later on." Then they leave the house, and Salima kisses her parents goodbye and -- gulp -- Mouth kisses both her parents goodbye as well. Tissue. I need a tissue.
I hereby officially banish the nicknames "Mouth" and "Puck Lite" to the Basement of Bad Monikers. He is heretofore to be referred to only as "Morgan." He's earned it.
At the dance, Tiffany sits at a table with Sewer because they're just, you know, friends, I guess; but she's wearing a corsage, so I guess he picked her up and gave it to her. Unfortunately, they don't seem to be enjoying each other all that much. Tiffany wishes she'd just kept the crush because she thinks she's ruined it by wanting more. See? I knew they hadn't fooled around. She just WISHED they had. Poor thing. And I mean that without a HINT of sarcasm.
The dance lasts for about thirty seconds because Morgan and Salima are driving along in his car and he tells her there's something he wants to do really quickly. Salima's dubious; she probably thinks he wants to pull over and light firecrackers and throw them at cars or something. He pops a tape in the stereo and tells Salima to get out of the car. "Are you gonna, like, pull away without me?" Salima laughingly asks. He might, sweetheart. Don't discount it. He's craaaazy. Instead, Morgan gets out of the car and the two of them dance by headlights in the street. Awwww. "I love you," he says. "I love you too," she says.
Sniff. Sniff.
Shut up.
week: It seems that the parents and their lives (or lack thereof) are the theme of week's episode. Can you say "YAWN"?