I'd like to begin this recap by saying that Pablo is a fucking tool.
Thank you.
Pablo's driving his little doppelganger (a.k.a. his sister Stephanie) somewhere in the car. Pablo asks Stephanie if she wants him to tell her a bedtime story, even though they're nowhere NEAR her bed. "Let's do 'Goldilocks,'" says Pablo. "Okay. Goldilocks was of lower economic and socialist [sic] status. And she had many, many problems. One of which was homelessness. Now once, after having a crisis at home, Goldilocks simply had to leave her abode because it was far too stressful for her to stay." Before Pablo can continue with his lame attempt at social commentary, Stephanie stops him cold. "That's not a good story," she states, with alarming four-year-old clarity. "Once upon a time, there were three bears..." she begins, attempting to train her obviously retarded older brother in the mechanics of proper storytelling. "That's about the bread lines in Russia," retorts Pueblo. "Uh-uh," responds Stephanie. Pueblo attempts to argue with his obviously-much-smarter sister, but Stephanie puts a dainty hand on his shoulder and says, "Quiet!"
Amen, sister.
Reason #1 Why Pablo Is A Fucking Tool: Do you think he actually tries to tell his little sister stories like this when cameras aren't around to capture it? I'm thinking that Pablo wants the world to think that, since he's soooo much smarter than everyone else, he just can't abide these silly little stories. Silly little stories, by the way, that were primarily created during times of oppression and destitution in a vain attempt to make simple people forget their immediate surroundings. Pablo needs to get over the fact that there's a camera in his car and GET OVER HIMSELF SIMULTANEOUSLY.
Bleah. CrAbby. She tells us that they have twenty days left of school and then they're off to the real world. Yeah, right. I think she's off to Europe on her parents' dime. I hate her. Montage montage montage. Morgan's scared to go to a new place, Allie can't wait to get older, Kiwi's all irritated with his mother because she's totally in his face (not to mention his "business"), Brad thinks he'll miss his family, Pablo could definitely be without his mother for, like, seventeen years. I'm sure she feels the same, Pueblo.
Then Pueblo's talking about his mom and how she's on her third marriage. In her car, Pueblo grills his mom about whether or not she's going to go on to number four. Haven't we already covered this conversation in a episode? Oh, yeah. We did.
Pueblo's mom thinks out loud that maybe she'll only want boyfriends now and what does Pueblo think about that? Pueblo thinks that'll be a problem because it would be creating a very unstable home life for his little sister. You know, he may very well think that and believe that, but it's the WAY he says it that makes me want to shove my remote control up his left nostril and whack him about the head with a tennis racket. Just say what you mean, Pueblo! Don't be all high-falutin' about it! Don't flaunt your sixth-period basic English vocabulary words at your mother. Knock it off. Oh, and Pueblo? KNOCK IT OFF.
Reason #2 Why Pablo Is A Fucking Tool: Because he doesn't give his mother a break. Yes, she's had failed marriages. No, that's not entirely cool. Yes, it's disturbing to the family environment. No, it doesn't give you a reason to constantly treat her like shit. Yes, I will torture you with medieval instruments if I get the chance.
Beneath the arty Pueblo Photo Montage, Pueblo tells us that his mom left Ecuador to come to the States when Pueblo was two in order to make money. "She made a lot of sacrifices for the things that she did," he says. "And one of things that she did was sacrifice us. Maybe it was worth it. Let's hope it was." Well, if one child turns out as thankless and annoying as Pueblo, probably not. However, if the other child turns out to know a fairytale from bullshit, then maybe so.
Then we're at school, and Morgan is packing up his backpack as he tells us, "College and stuff like that...it's closing the door. It's the first step you have to take toward responsibility. And [since] I'm the childish kid that I am, responsibility is my enemy." After Morgan relieves a candy jar of most of its contents, his guidance counselor talks to him about some school that Morgan's obviously applied to. There's some talk about open admissions and proper environment or something, but all I can pay attention to is little Morgan's face; he looks like he's twelve or something, and he so totally doesn't want to go to college or to grow up. And you know, now that this season is coming to an end, Morgan's one of the kids I want to follow. If PBS were to do a whole "follow-up" special (like The Real World, but only with more class and less Puck), I'd be super-glued to my set, waiting to find out what Morgan's up to and what he's turned out to be. No, I'm not being sarcastic. Shut up and eat your Cheetos.
"I don't know what I wanna do in college, dammit!" says Morgan, later in that time period (yeah, cuz we have no idea what day it is), while sitting at the kitchen table with his dad. "One day I wanna go to CLC, the minute I wanna go to Columbia, minute I wanna stay home for a year, minute I wanna go to Chile for year or something like that...not Chile, but --"
(For those of you outside of Illinois, CLC is "College of Lake County" and it's sort of our version of a community college. And Columbia is Columbia College, a pretty decent film/theatre/arts school in downtown Chicago. Got it? Good.)
"You can't stay home for a year unless you're in school," says Papa Morgan. Morgan, who's playing with a bike pump (the hell?), turns directly to the camera and says, "Can you feel the love?" Hee. As Duncan enters and rips off Morgan's hat, Dad tells Morgan that it has nothing to do with love. The sad fact of the matter is, the majority of Morgan's friends are going to be doing something year, whether it's going to CLC or Columbia or some other school or they'll still be in high school. "You can't be the guy who's doing nothing," says Papa Morgan.
He's got a point, actually. I give the guy a hard time occasionally, but he's almost always looking out for Morgan. I may not like his method of delivery, but I kind of dig how blunt he is with Morgan, because, quite frankly, I think bluntness is the only way in which to deal with the boy. Listen to me. "The boy." What am I, Auntie Mame? Jesus.
Morgan leaves after hearing this particular bit of bluntness, and Papa Morgan says, "Seems Morgan doesn't want to grow up." Yeah. It would seem that way. Meanwhile, Morgan and Duncan are playing baseball out on some field (if by "playing" you mean "running aimlessly around a baseball diamond, throwing a baseball bat at your younger brother and then wrestling him down to the ground so as to get a better vantage point from which to beat him senseless") as Papa Morgan's VO explains that Morgan's sort of stuck between being a child and becoming an adult. So am I, actually. That doesn't give me license to chuck a hard wooden object at my sibling.
No. NO! Please, NO! Allie's reading her poetry. Gah. GAH! GAAAAAAHHH!! Something about "tugging" and "holding on" and "struggle." Ew. Stinky-poo.
Beyond the bad poetry (and believe me, I know whereof I speak; I have all of my old college poems saved on disc somewhere and they are, without a doubt, completely ATROCIOUS; so much pain, so much angst, so many DESCRIPTIVES -- stinky-poo times ten, people), Allie informs us that she and her mother had a huge fight. The result? Allie's mom told her to pack her bags.
And then we're over at Allie's brother's place and I'm all confused because, um, when their dad got married, didn't Michael (her brother) have to come in from out of town or something? There was some mention of him being in town and not even visiting their mom. I don't think I'm wrong on this. However, since I've already sent my tape off to a friend for viewing, I can't check. Bluebird? Can you check the tape for me and make sure I'm right? I hate being wrong in these recaps. Thanks, babe. I'll buy you a margarita time I'm in L.A. (No, that's not her real name, but her real name is none of your business. It's Crane, actually. Crane Seagull. She has lovely plumage.)
Anyway, Allie's over at Michael's and she says, "Michael. She didn't even tell me why she was so mad last night. She just said, 'You always do this. You always do that.' Because she's mad at me about something she can't even pinpoint." Michael responds, almost completely turning around from his computer where, I'm sure, an ongoing game of Quake is being played, "Do you think anyone wanted any of this?" Word, Michael. Word. Shut up, Allie. No. SHUT UP.
But she won't. Allie goes on to tell us in a VO that she has one older brother, Michael, you know, in case we didn't get it when he went to the wedding and she called him "my brother Michael." When Allie and her mother get into conflicts, he'll be her voice and her mother's voice, apparently. "You guys don't listen to each other," he says, still trying to score points at Quake. "It's like a game the two of you don't even know you're playing. And you're playing it all day long. And it sucks." Yeah. I kind of like Michael. He's sort of saying what I would say if Allie had come to me with this shit. Of course, my responses would be peppered with "Shut up, Allie!" and "Oh, just GROW UP, Allie!" and "Go get me more smokes, Allie!" and "Shut UP, Allie!"
"You don't want to be the bigger person here," says Michael, "but you have to." "Michael!" Allie shouts. "She told me I MUST PACK MY STUFF." Good. I'm glad her mother told her SHE MUST PACK HER STUFF. Because if she'd been my child, she'd have been packed up and gone by age sixteen.
"Wow," says Wedge, looking over my shoulder and blowing smoke into my hair, "you're pretty harsh." I don't even turn around and look at him, but simply reach up, grab the American Spirit from between his fingers, and say, "Walk away from the Regina. The Regina is on FIRE." "So's Regina's hair," he retorts. "Watch that cig." Smart-ass. Oh, shit! I am on fire! Oh, dammit! Ew. The smell of burnt hair. Ew. "Burn some incense, goddammit!" I yell at Wedge, who has now returned to the living room to watch my recently purchased copy of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Wire Work. "Burn it yourself!" he shouts back. Fucker.
Back to the recap. Allie walks up the stairs to her home and packs her bags as Allie's mother says in a VO that throwing Allie out of the house was probably one of the most difficult things for her to do. Allie's mom goes on to say that, selfishly, she just thought she was going to go out of her mind if Allie stayed and that she needed her space. Her "space" being defined by "a space within which Allie does not exist." "That was a heartache," says Allie's mom, starting to cry. "That was really tough...um..." The camera cuts away from Allie's mom, as she's obviously getting very upset.
"I feel like we're lost," says Allie in her brother's car. "I feel like we have nothing. I feel like everything that we've ever worked for has completely been cut." Allie twists her split-ended hair in frustration. "If she could truly understand everything inside of me, I don't think we'd be fighting quite like we do." Allie calls Brett on the car phone and asks if she can sleep over at her house.
Brett consents, I guess, because Michael drives Allie up a driveway, which I can only assume is Brett's. However, Brett's house is an exact replica of my friend Millicent's childhood home in Northbrook. This makes me think that either Brett lives in the same Northbrook subdivision that Millicent lived in or Allie's actually becoming a lodger at Casa de Marlborough. I think Millicent might have mentioned something to me, though. The fact that I might be able to identify the neighborhood where Allie is staying isn't really important, to say the least, but it makes me feel like I know something that many others don't, so I feel all special now and stuff. I'm glowing, as Wedge can attest. "She's glowing," he says laconically, munching on a Claussen pickle. He's a charmer, that Wedge.
Meanwhile, in another sector of Home Life Problems-R-Us, Pueblo's sister is swinging on a swing and asking Pueblo to push her. Pueblo does so as he tells us in a combo VO/video interview that his mother's second marriage was pretty short, and her current third marriage didn't last much longer. Stephanie is the product of that short-lived second marriage. "When I see Stephanie," says Pueblo, "I kind of see myself. She makes me proud. That's, like, cool. How many things in my life make my proud?" Pueblo picks his sister up off the playground and laughingly carries her off. Yeah. Pablo's a tool. Yeah, I can't stand him. And, yeah, this little segment makes me like him. Not enough to erase my entire history of Pablo's A Total Fucking Tool, but enough to make me perhaps realize why, sometimes, Pablo's a total fucking tool.
Later, Pueblo's on the phone with his mother while getting a glass of milk for Stephanie. He says that he's been waiting for her (his mother) and that she should consider Stephanie and how she (his mother) is going to tell Stephanie what's going to happen. He's talking about the second husband and how Stephanie calls Husband #3 "Dad" and when Husband #3 leaves, that will mean TWO father figures have left her. "How is this gonna effect our income...I mean, what're we gonna do?" And, it must be said, Pablo's talking to his mother in a very calm and reasonable voice and he (don't pass out) has a point. Ending her marriage with this man has a direct effect on her children. Whether she likes it or not. And, it would seem, Pablo's trying to wake her up to that fact. As Stephanie plays on her bed, she says to Pablo, "I don't wanna be alone because, when I'm alone, I'm just lonely." Oh, God. If she's not the most prescient child known to man, then I don't know what. Seriously. She's incredible. Screw Morgan and what he's like now, I wanna know what STEPHANIE is like! I bet she's awesome. Or she's just knocked over a convenience store. One or the other.
thing we know, Mama Pueblo has returned and is rolling Convenience-Store-Stephanie over in her bed, saying something about shopping tomorrow. Pueblo says in VO, "All I really wanted from her, was for her to be there for me. If she wants to think that she gets to choose what it is that she's going to be, fulfilling her maternal role, well, then, I don't want that it all." Pueblo watches as his mother cradles a crying Stephanie in her arms. I'm not really sure what he said there. It's a pretty poorly constructed sentence, as sentences go. I think we can all assume that Pueblo's not fond of his mother.
After the semi-commercial break, Pueblo's in his car, talkin' gym. Basically, throughout high school, gym means "shit," according to Pueblo. Unfortunately, no matter how "shit" gym is, Pueblo needs it to graduate. I'm not entirely clear on this, but it would seem that Pueblo needs two absences cleared in gym, or he won't graduate. And, he will have to "beg" his mother to "let [him] graduate." Yeah, I don't know what the hell is going on either. Join the club. I missed tons of gym classes. My mother wrote me so many "Regina is menstruating, please excuse her from swim class" notes that my gym teacher actually thought I might be hemorrhaging from my female parts. But my absences from gym didn't prevent me from graduating, for chrissakes! Those absences made my teacher think I had some sort of congenital defect, but they didn't prevent me from graduating.
Pueblo enters his house, and his mother's railing at him, "You get off of work at six o'clock!" "I do not!" responds Pueblo. "I get off of work at nine o'clock!" They get into an argument about the hour of night that he's been coming home, and his mother asks him where he's been working. Um. Call me crazy but, shouldn't she KNOW where her child is working? Okay. Okay. This is only reinforcing my liking Pueblo and, I have to tell you, I don't LIKE it. His own mother doesn't know where he works? Is this his fault or hers? I really don't know. I mean, when I was in high school, I couldn't GET a job outside of school unless my parents knew about it. Which begs me to ask two pertinent questions. Has Pueblo TOLD his mother where he's working, and she's too wrapped up in her own stuff to remember? Or has Pueblo NOT TOLD his mother where he's working, and therefore he's the fucking tool I've become comfortable hating?
My questions aren't answered, because Pueblo tells his mother that "all [he] need[s] are April 14th and April 17th." Wow. The two dates that surround my birthday. Do you think this is some sort of sign? Oh. Wait. No. This was filmed over a year ago. What the hell happened to me during my birthday in 2000? Oh. That's right. I went out with Wedge and Hank4 and got drunk and fell off a stool at the Twisted Lizard. Okay. So the fact that Pueblo's gym absences fall on either side of my 2000 birthday really don't have any relevance whatsoever. Great.
Oooooh. Wedge just brought me another strawberry-mango-vodka concoction. Oh. Love Wedge. Love him. "Love you!" I scream as he heads back into the living room to continue his perusal of Yuen Woo-ping's wire work. "Uh-huh," he responds, shoving his ass into my sofa. Yum. Strawberry-mango-vodka goodness. Slurp.
"They have rules, Pablo," says Pueblo's mother, bringing me back to the task at hand. Pueblo and his mother continue to argue as Pueblo's VO tells us, "I feel trapped. My mom and I have been having problems for awhile." Pueblo's become so desperate that he'll try anything to just get out.
Hallowed Highland Park halls. Kids are hugging, they're mugging, and they're all excited that there are camera crews around trying to capture their every move. I went to Lake Forest High School, people! I know about camera crews! Hello? Ever seen Ordinary People? Yeah. My high school. No, I wasn't in attendance at that time. Doesn't matter. The infiltration of a camera crew made every single student who attended LFHS after the movie was made completely and totally aware of their surroundings. We always hoped (and prayed) that another movie would be made within our school. We LOVED the idea of a camera being around. We dug it, wholeheartedly. At least, that's the only explanation I can offer for why we, the majority of us, acted like complete and utter MORONS for the duration. I mean, really. When one of the overly muscular seniors is forcing an unfortunate freshman down on all fours on the senior star and shouting, "Lick it, FROSH! LICK IT!" can we really assume that he, the senior, means it? Noooo. He's just looking for the camera. And when a couple of jockstraps nab an unassuming sophomore and toss him into the girl's bathroom with the instructions, "GET US SOME PUSSY, LOSER!", can we really assume that they, the intellect-deprived jockstraps, really mean it? Noooo. They're just looking for the camera!
Sorry. Little bit of personal information there. Do with it what you will.
Allie's in class, and her teacher is informing the class that their presentations are worth a hundred points. We don't know what presentations these might be, but Allie looks pretty damn panicky at this moment. "For some of you," says the teacher, "graduation depends upon this." The teacher goes on to say that she was talking to one counselor about a particular individual. At this point, Morgan enters. He wanders around the room, apparently unaware that a class is being conducted. The teacher says that this particular individual may or may not graduate, depending on this class. We can only assume, since Morgan has entered in such a lazy-ass fashion, that this "particular individual" is Morgan himself.
Morgan goes to talk to the teacher and discovers that he's at about a D+ at this point. Morgan tries to wrangle a little credit from his teacher by presenting a paper that was due on May first. Unfortunately, it's May ninth. Morgan's screwed, and his teacher ain't letting him by.
"It's not like he can't get the credits," says Papa Morgan, talking on the cordless to god-knows-who. Papa Morgan goes on to say something about how "this one shouldn't be the one," but I'm not really sure what he's talking about. Look. Let's face it. Morgan's fucked up in school. And now that college is rearing its ugly (and expensive) head, both Morgan and his parents are going to have to deal with it.
Morgan enters the house and his father calls out to him, needing to talk to him. Morgan tries to avoid it by yelling that his dad's still on the phone. Papa Morgan states that he's now off the phone, and Morgan reluctantly enters the study. "What's going on in school?" Papa Morgan asks. Morgan responds by pinching his father's cheeks like a deranged alcoholic aunt. Papa Morgan pushes him off and tells Morgan to sit down. Morgan attempts to ADD his way out of this confrontation, but Papa Morgan's having none of it. Papa Morgan talked to the dean of the school and found out that Morgan's gotta be a "fucking angel." "You understand?" says Papa Morgan as he turns Morgan's face to his. Morgan definitely understands. How do I know? Because he stalks off without responding. Yeah, that's the action of a kid who's just been tagged. Party's over, Morgan. Time to wake up and smell the failure.
"Morgan is terrified of leaving high school," says Papa Morgan in a VO as Morgan attacks his brother outside on the lawn. "And, subconsciously, he might be trying to keep himself there." In Morgan's car, Duncan straps himself in as Morgan says, "Duncan. Guess what? I'm not doing good in school." There's barely a response from the backseat. Morgan, however, looks like he just completely and totally realized something. And, for once, he looks like a man.
Close-up on a "Marines" business card. Oh, shit. We're back with Pueblo and his on-going quest to be a part of a military unit that is supposed to protect the United States of America. God help us. Pueblo tells us that he has to cut the umbilical cord in some way, and this is pretty much the only way he knows how. Yeah. That's right. By joining the Marines. That's how Pueblo is going to show his mother that he's an adult and that he's responsible for his own well-being. By joining up with a group of people who have almost LESS direction than he does. The Marines are the perfect place for a snotty, inconsiderate, self-involved, irritating individual. There are people who join the Marines because THEY HAVE NOWHERE ELSE TO GO. Are you one of those people, Pueblo? I think not. Stick closer to home, my friend. You have two people there that care about you. Don't go thinking you can sever the ties that bind by joining a military group that prides itself on TEAMWORK. Cuz you are SO not the "teamwork" kind, darlin'.
In his (or his mother's) car, Pueblo asks Stephanie, "Stephanie-pie. Guess what I'm doing today?" Stephanie says, uninterestedly, "What?" "I'm going to join the Army!" says Pueblo.
Reason #3 Why Pablo Is A Fucking Tool: He's supposed to be joining the fucking MARINES. Not the ARMY. And yet he's so goddamn clueless that he equates the Marines with the Army. Dude. They're two totally different animals. Seriously. The Marines are all about honor and duty and fervent attention to detail and the flag and the Consti-fucking-tution. They're SCARY. Check out their website and you'll see what I mean. The Army is all about "if you wanna join, cool -- cuz we need more bodies." The Army is made up of "grunts". The Marines are made up of men who want to KILL. You've claimed to want to join up with the Marines, Pueblo. Don't mistake them with the Army. EVER.
Allie's lolling around on Brett's pullout sofa, yammering away on the phone. "I'm gonna graduate," says Allie, indignantly. "No! Michael! She's telling our family that I'm not gonna graduate!" Brett looks at the floor with a pursed expression on her face. "She can't even admit anything!" After telling her brother that she's not going to talk to him like that anymore, Allie hangs up the phone.
thing we see is Allie and Michael rummaging through boxes; Michael hands Allie a photo of herself as a kid. Then Allie's watching videos of herself as a kid. "It's hard," she says in a VO. "I dunno. It just feels, like, I'm not there. I'm disconnected. And, I think I know it all, and I don't." We switch to Allie, in an interview, very upset. "It sucks cuz, like, I'm adopted and she fought so hard...so fucking hard...to get me. She told me she prayed to get a beautiful daughter..." She's ADOPTED? When the hell did this happen? Almost a whole bloody season, and her adoption was never mentioned? I think that's kind of an oversight, don't you? Man, these filmmakers have once again gone Bunim-Murray on my ass. They withheld important character information and didn't clue us in until said information had more dramatic weight and packed more of an emotional punch. Way to manipulate, R.J. Cutler. Allie's crying now, so, of course, we switch to her on the beach with Brett for a poignant moment.
Brett, sitting opposite Allie on some weird stone framework, listens as Allie says that she and her mother just need to learn to live with each other and grow "parallel" together instead of perpendicular. What? What'd she just say? Jesus. Allie needs to get out of her head for at least ONE DAY. Or, at least, she needs to stop smoking so much weed. My Lord. Your mother's husband, YOUR FATHER, dumped her for another woman! Can you both just fucking deal with that? I mean, instead of screaming at each other and both going off into your respective corners to muse over that which you've just discussed? God! Do these people know how to communicate? I've had more open discussions over a returned sweater at Barney's than these people have had in their everyday lives! Grow up! TALK! It's not that hard! I just want to take them out back and turn the fire hose on them. I mean it.
Meanwhile, Pueblo has to prove to his mom that he's willing to take responsibility for himself. He plans to do that by entering the local Marine recruitment office. "It's not like I have a deep-seated need to go kill somebody," says Pueblo. "I just have a deep-seated need to go be somebody." Oh, and the Marines is the perfect place to do that, you utter TOOL. I hope he gets into the Marines. I hope he gets in and we go to war with, like, Peru or something, and his ass gets tattooed with gunfire and he forgets to bring his gas mask and the enemy line chemical-warfares his sorry butt.
The Marine recruiter asks Pueblo all sorts of questions: does his mom have full custody of his sister, where's his dad, how's his dad feel about Pueblo joining the Marines, et cetera. "Well," says the recruiter, "let's get started with the paperwork." Heh. Heh heh. I'm only laughing because I've seen this episode twice already and...heh...I know what's coming...
"This is the drug abuse screening form," says the recruiter, pulling out a ninety-pound document that's only slightly smaller than a phone book for the greater Hong Kong area. Pueblo looks to the heavens for support. The heavens look back down upon him and tell him to go fuck himself.
"Have you ever taken any type of speed?" asks the recruiter. "What, like caffeine?" asks Pueblo the Idiot. "No, like amphetamines. Illegal drugs," says the recruiter. "Not to my knowledge," says Pueblo the Liar. "Mescaling?" asks the recruiter. "Mescaline?" corrects Pueblo, laying waste to the idea that he's never done a single drug in his life. "Mescaline, yeah, sorry," says the recruiter. "Well, no," says Pueblo. "Mushrooms of any sort?" says the recruiter. Um. To what "mushrooms" might you be referring? I mean, we can all assume that you're referring to psilocybin; those "shrooms" that everyone chopped up and put on a pizza on a boring Friday night in college when there was nothing else to do. Okay. Wait. That was just me. Damn. But, you know, make yourself clear, recruiter! "Mushrooms of any sort" could mean a package of button mushrooms at the local Jewel. Be more specific, please.
Anyway, the recruiter asks, "Mushrooms, of any sort?" and Pueblo stupidly answers, "Probably nothing legal." The hell? He's thinking he's going to get into the Marines with answers like THESE? Dude! If you really want to get into the Marines, YOU LIE! God! Just how much do I have to teach these kids?! "Okay, opium?" asks the Marine recruiter, hoping that he gets a sandwich and a cup of coffee after this train-wreck of a kid. "Psshaw," says Pueblo. "Not in this country." Way to go, Pueblo! Way to ruin ANY chance of getting into the Marines! You know, that whole "joking" and "sarcastically socially aware" thing you THINK you have going for you? Well, it SO doesn't work with the Marines. The Marines have no sense of humor, you TOOL. Keep that in mind the time you try to apply for a position with one of the most humorless and powerful branches of our armed forces, okay?
After the recruiter runs down a list of drugs that Pueblo has so obviously tried in his past, Pueblo cruises down the street in his car, bitching about how naive he was. I'd like to put down in print Pueblo's every word but, really, I don't want to. HOW FUCKING STUPID WAS HE? Yeah, the Marines are all over people who've done drugs in the past. God! Pueblo just goes on and on about how he couldn't believe he could have thought he'd be able to join the Marines with a potential DRUG history! SHUT UP, PUEBLO! Just. Shut. Up.
"What the hell do I do now?" he says. Ram your car directly into the side of the nearest Dairy Queen? That'd be my suggestion.
Reason #4 Why Pablo Is A Fucking Tool: Because it never occurred to him that his prior drug history might possibly enter into his qualification interview for the Marines. Dude. You do drugs. That's fine. I have no problem with that. Really. Do what you want. I, myself, am a HUGE proponent of alcohol. But don't think you can get a job (and the Marines ARE a job, no matter what anyone thinks) by being HONEST when they ask you questions about DRUGS. Lie. LIE. If you really WANTED the job, you would have LIED. Do I think Pueblo has more integrity because he DIDN'T lie? No. Do I think Pueblo didn't really want to join the Marines? Yes.
Okay, so now Morgan's being escorted down the hallway by a "security guard," and then he's sitting in the waiting room of the dean's office, I think, after telling us in a VO that he's received nothing good from school. "What happened in school today that I got this pissy message from --" his father says, at home, obviously the same day that Morgan was filmed being in the waiting room of the principal's office. "Nothing," says Morgan. "We were joking around and somebody made a comment and then I repeated the comment." Papa Morgan challenges Morgan's statement, and they argue about some shit that I can't really understand, because I haven't seen the actual incident that has precluded this discussion. All I know is that Morgan's in deep shit right now.
And now we're in Allie's car, with Allie, ew, while she's smoking a cig and attempting to navigate through traffic. Allie dials the car phone. She gets her mom. They decide to meet for dinner at Gianni's. Some chick music plays as Allie drives to her destination and walks up to the entrance of Gianni's.
Allie and her mother sit opposite each other as if they're opposing sides of a peace treaty committee. Guess what, ladies. This ain't Bosnia. And your problems aren't THAT big. Bring it down a notch, if you don't mind.
Allie tells her mother that it's hard to hear someone constantly going at her and never actually hearing her. "I hear you, Allie," says her mother. "That's not good enough, you saying 'I hear you,' that's supposed to make it all better?" Oh, shut UP, Allie. So, Allie feels that her mother puts Allie's feelings aside. Allie's mother thinks she doesn't. Do you want me to recap the entire frustrating conversation? You do? Too bad. It's so completely annoying that I can't. Never in my LIFE have I ever spoken to my mother in this fashion. Allie thinks that she's the center of the fucking universe and her mother is just there to cushion her fall, if, indeed, she ever does fall. Her mother, on the other hand, thinks her daughter is just there to help her through this "thing" she's going through. This is one fucked-up family unit, people. And I'm not expending my precious hours recapping it for everyone else to enjoy.
Allie's mom is fucked up. Allie is fucked up.
End of fucking story.
I honestly, really, want to recap this entire conversation, but I know, deep down in my heart, that it would take another four pages to completely do it justice and, since it's 12:21 a.m. on Tuesday and Wedge is in the other room shouting, "DUDE! It's just a show! Get in here!" I can't get into it right now. I just can't. Not to mention the fact that I think their entire battle of wills is completely fucking irritating.
"I think when we go through those periods of not talking," says Allie in a VO, "finally, when we talk, we're like, 'I love you.'" Then Allie and her mother hug in a completely different time period. I know it's a different time period because Allie and her mother are no longer in the Italian restaurant but are in their apartment, and Allie's mother is wearing a baseball cap. My heartfelt thanks to the producers for whipping the Bunim-Murray rulebook out of their closet and bringing us into the world of "there is no time, only Bunim-Murray time."
Pueblo lamely smokes in his car. Yes, he lamely smokes. He puts the cigarette in his mouth, barely sucks, and then blows out a piddly little stream of smoke. He is not a real smoker. I know this because I am now smoking what might be my four-hundredth American Spirit of the night. I suck in, I blow out. The stream of smoke that exudes from my lungs is truly amazing. I do not gingerly hold the cigarette. I do not gingerly put it to my lips. I do not gingerly blow out. There is nothing "gingerly" about my smoking. There is everything "gingerly" about Pueblo's smoking. Smoke, dude. SMOKE. Before I have to come over there and thrust my crusty lungs into your face.
"What I want is to be living on my own," says Loser Smoke Boy. "And I'm gonna do whatever I can. And before, I thought I could do that with the Marines. Now, I'm gonna have to deal with my mom and I was so ready to just move out and move on."
Quick. Grab a pylon. We're gonna beat him with it and then stuff his head into it and then leave him on the highway.
Pueblo enters his living room and says something to his mother about having wanted to borrow money from her, but since she didn't trust him, he's offering up his cell phone as collateral. "If I don't return the thirty dollars to you," he says, firmly entrenching himself within my Den of Iniquity, "pawn it and keep the money." Mama Pueblo is having none of it. "Sit down and hear me first!" she demands.
Pueblo and his mother launch into an argument as Stephanie -- in another room, or maybe the same room, it's not really clear -- tries to amuse herself while her loved ones caw at each other like crows.
"I was just asking to borrow thirty dollars, Mom," says Pueblo, "if you don't want me to, that's fine!" "Pablo," shouts his mother, obviously unaware of his new nickname, "try to be a man!" "I AM a man! I just don't need you to --" retorts Pueblo. And this is where it gets ugly. I mean, so ugly that I can't even write down what they say to each other. Not because I won't, but because I CAN'T. They're both talking so goddamn fast I can't keep up. What is WITH this episode anyway? Huh? It's so goddamn dialogue-heavy that I've got barely enough room to give forth my pithy commentary! Jesus!
It's back and forth, back and forth; they're yelling over one another...Mama Pueblo brings up gym summer school (the hell?), Pueblo puts her off by saying he's got his cap and his gown in his car, she responds that he is her son and she loves him, and Stephanie's off in some room, taking out her frustrations on what looks like a silicon breast implant. "But where do you go?" cries Pueblo's mama. "Where ARE you? Where are you when I need you? Where are you when I wanna hug you? Where are you when I wanna say, 'I love you, Pablo'?" Pablo (yes, I can't refer to him as "Pueblo" in this instance) tries to fight back with tears rolling down his face, "You tell me that when I come home --" but he's cut off by his mother and her emotional avalanche. They both scream, inches away from each other, Stephanie just rooms away, hearing every angry and emotional word.
"Pablo!" says his mother. "You know how much I love you. You know that. You know that." Pablo, a quivering mess by this time, can't even respond to his mother. His mother just looks at him, waiting for something. I'm not quite sure what.
"When we fight," says Pablo, now in his car, with Stephanie in the back, "it's like we're not even really talking to each other. We say the most hurtful things." Pablo walks Stephanie down some stairs in the rain and then they're on the shores of Lake Michigan. "My deepest aspiration for Stephanie is that, maybe, all the stuff that my mom and I have gone through will be worth it, to help my little sister. When she becomes my age. I hope that they can talk things through. That they can speak to each other and my sister doesn't have to deal with the desperation of needing to leave, the desperation of needing to escape her own home."
Dammit. I hate it when they end on a downer like this. I can't even end the recap with a disparaging remark about Pueblo's hair. This sucks. Where's the vodka?
time: Roll out the pomp and circumstance, babies. It's graduation time. And, thankfully, the end of this show.