Episode Report Card Sars: C | 1 USERS: B- YOU GRADE IT Have yourseeeeeelf a greeeeeeeeeasy little Christmaaaaaaas
By Sars | Season 4 | Episode 9 | Aired on 11.28.2000
Meanwhile, back at the Poutback Steakhouse, Joey sobs into her hand. Mr. K, wearing a concerned look, comes out to find her: "Hi, Joey." She jerks up and quickly wipes her face and says she's sorry, and she thinks she needs to apologize. Mr. K: "Really -- whatever for?" Joey mugs and stutters and says she thinks she "blew it tonight," it's a "whole new world for" her, she doesn't know what to do or what to say, she knows she doesn't fit in very well…fortunately, Mr. K crashes the pity party and interrupts to tell her that she didn't "blow" anything (yeah, no kidding), and that her academic record stands on its own: "And no one is grading you on your social skills." Good thing, too. Mr. K goes on to say that Joey couldn't "ask for a better character witness than that boyfriend of [hers]," who apparently talked the dean's ear off about Joey, how she's helped him and changed him, "how he couldn't imagine a better life than one with you by his side." I send Symbolism out to the drugstore to pick me up some insulin. Mr. K notes that it's a "rare gift" to have someone say things like that about her. Joey looks miserable and guilty, but she has the grace to smile and try to appear flattered.
Jack and Jen sit on the stairs at Reconciliation Ranch. Jen wonders where she applied. Jack tells her: Bard, Brown, Columbia, Emerson, and Sarah Lawrence. Jack says that he had to rummage through her computer, but her paper on the women's suffrage movement "made a really good essay" after some "pruning." "Cool," Jen says, smiling. Jack says in a too-casual teasing tone that he "stumbled across [her] journal," and as Jen tries to play it off with a shocked "oh," Jack says, deadpan, "I didn't realize you still had those kind of dreams about me. Jen gets up: "More 'nog?" She grabs his cup and books as Jack says drolly, "Sure -- love some more 'nog." Tee hee!
The piano, where Mr. Brooks is tickling the ivories. He and Grams share a bit of mock-hostile banter, and Mr. Brooks remembers Grams putting him in his place: "I admire that in a woman." Grams gives him guff for "getting on in years." Mr. Brooks admits to harshing on Dawson, "but that was before I got to know him." Just you wait, Brooksy -- juuuuuuuust you wait. Grams advises him to get to know people in the future before dismissing them. Mr. Brooks suggests that she do the same. They exchange A Meaningful Look. Grams, shaking her head and smiling, walks away. Enter Dawson, who accuses Mr. Brooks of "flirting with Grams." "Nonsense," Mr. Brooks scoffs good-naturedly. "That looked like flirting to me," Dawson smirks. Mr. Brooks tells him, "You'd know if I was flirting. Matter of fact, you could pull up a seat and take a lesson or two." Dawson grins, then makes a crack about Mr. Brooks having the "massive ego" of a movie director. Yeah, look who's talking, George Luc-Ass. Mr. Brooks remarks that, just because they "had a moment" earlier, doesn't mean they have to get "all chummy." "Point taken," Dawson says -- as if -- and clears his throat and says with great portent that he wants Mr. Brooks to know something: "I think I'm ready to make a movie again." Oh, thank God. If by "thank God" we mean "fucking kill me now." Dawson, why don't you climb up on that cherry-picker they use for dolly-cam aerial shots and get over yourself? And shut up. Shut up a lot. Mr. Brooks snarks that the crisis of faith seems to have ended, so he'll "alert the media." "Go ahead, laugh all you want," Dawson says smugly, and Mr. Brooks tells him that he intends to and asks what Dawson's "picture" is about. "You," Dawson says, radiating self-satisfaction. Mr. Brooks rises from the piano bench and asks Dawson to repeat that into his "good ear." Dawson smiles that it's Mr. Brooks's life story, and they'll "talk later." Yuck. Dawson walks off. Mr. Brooks sighs, resigned to the fact that into every life some Dawson must fall.
Worthington party aftermath. Joey slouches up to Pacey, and they hug. Pacey whispers, "Apology accepted." Wow, he's easy -- I'd have made her work for it. Joey draws away from him: "I didn't apologize, Pace." "Yeah, but you were going to," Pacey murmurs. "I was?" Joey says, bristling slightly. Pacey prompts her, "Yeah, you were gonna apologize for bitching me out earlier." Joey not only doesn't apologize, because evidently she doesn't think she has to, but she expects an apology from Pacey: "And what about you? You're the one who lied." Well, yes, he did -- but he did it to put you at ease, and you thanked him by pitching a diva fit and leaving him to talk you up to the people from Worthington while you acted like an infant outside, wearing only a strappy dress and a wrap, on Cape Cod, IN DECEMBER, so WHATEVER. Pacey asks, with infinitely more patience than I'd have or than Joey merits, if it's occurred to Joey that he did it for her. Joey snottily asks how exactly she benefits from his "distortion of the truth," and instead of throwing his hands in the air and stomping off with an angry "see if I escort your bony ass anywhere again, ingrate," Pacey says that he wanted people to see her through his eyes that night, "to see this girl, this…woman, who has more class and intelligence and beauty and grace than anyone else who's walking the face of the planet." Oh, ick. Dial it back, Pacey -- you haven't even had sex yet! And Joey exhibited neither class nor grace with that tantrum she threw, so you might want to buy a dictionary. He blabbers on about these things coming out of his mouth because he's head-over-heels in love with her, but "the really scary thing is…[he thinks] that they're true." Blecch. Pass the toothpaste, I think I've got sixteen cavities all of a sudden. Joey smiles, gratified, and leans her forehead into his face, and he kisses her chunky bangs, and Joey finally apologizes, saying that she just wanted to impress these people "so bad," and to fit in, and she just "completely froze." Pacey tells her that it doesn't matter, but she protests that it does matter, that she's never wanted anything so badly before, and Pacey just fit right in with no effort at all. Pacey says that it's because he's got nothing "at stake here" and nothing to prove to the Worthington folk, and as Joey pouts all melted-wax face some more, Pacey tells her that that world is opening its doors to her, and when she steps through, she'll "be such an amazing part of" it, and she's doing Worthington a favor, not the other way around. More forehead touching. Joey says that Mrs. Witter should get a medal for raising "the perfect boy," and things like that come out of her mouth because she's head-over-heels in love with him and blah blah schmoopy blah "the scary thing is," she thinks it's true. Cut the cord, both of you. Kissing. NLNC barges in with the Jaws Of Life and pries them apart. I wake up. Pacey proposes that they go to the Leerys'.
Ranch. Dawson leans on a doorjamb and watches his parents while an ovary mangles "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" in the background. Gretchen comes up to him, and Dawson very nicely tells her that she "did a very good thing," and as Gale and The Flash hug, Dawson adds that, years from now, he won't remember what he got for Christmas, but he will remember how it felt to see his parents so happy. He thanks her. Gretchen says that it's "total selfishness" on her part; the party takes her back to a time "before everything got so complicated," blah bling blah. Mr. Brooks happens by and tells Dawson, "Why dontcha quit flirtin' and kiss her?" and ruffles the mistletoe over their heads with his fingers. Dawson and Gretchen both laugh. Gretchen: "You've gotta be kidding me." Dawson: "I had nothing to do with this." Sars: "Just get on with it already." Dawson parries nervously; Gretchen reminds him once again that "it's tradition, Dawson, and you don't monkey with tradition." He leers at her. They lean in towards each other.