Catch-22

Previously on Big Head Wad and the Wankers: Dawson took whatever money he didn't spend on his purchase of Joey a few years back and turned it over to Pacey, demanding a quick and large return on his investment so that he can make what he self-consciously called an "indie film." Little David semi-broke up with Jack because...well, we think because Jack talked to this guy Fred, but that almost seems like it can't be right, so there might be scenes that were omitted where Jack spit in Little David's drink or kicked him or called him "shrimpy" or something. Pacey's boss was a huge, materialistic asshole, so of course Pacey wanted to be just like him. Oh, and there was this chick kind of hanging around, and it seemed like she might be government, but then it turned out she was just media. Joey dumped Pacey for the greener (?) pastures of the reappearing Eddie, who told her to take a leap of faith and made other unlikely suggestions.

In a restaurant somewhere in Boston, North Carolina, an irritatingly happy piano tootles jazzily in the background while a pensive Pacey, alone at a table, stares down at his silverware. Pacey is sad, you see, because Pacey is always sad. If Pacey were happy, the show would end and water would go down the drain the other way and your hair would grow inward and then the earth would explode. He shifts his gaze to look a little farther into the distance, and we become aware that he is thinking of Joey: The One That Got Away. The little mood lamp reminds him of her smile, the wine reminds him of her intoxicating personality, and the salt and pepper shakers remind him of the contrast between the top half of her hair and the bottom half. A perky waitress comes up and asks him if he needs any more bread. He tells her he doesn't want bread, but he'd like another drink, and he'd like her not to call him "sir," because it makes him feel creepy. "Yes, sir," she says, and then apologizes and walks away, knowing she made an idiot of herself in front of what is probably the first hottie to walk into this establishment since 1994. He laughs a bit.

Sadia's boobs, followed by the rest of Sadia, approach him from behind and say, "Hel-looo." He turns to look directly into her cleavage, and then follows her with his eyes as she makes her way to the other side of the table and sits down. She asks if he missed her, and he assures her that although he did miss her, the waitress's flirting helped him pass the time. In the first of many of this evening's Hair Don'ts, Sadia's hair is up, but she has large chunks of it hanging in her eyes. Not subtle little tendrils, but flops of hair. Yuck. Anyway, Pacey assures her that the waitress isn't his type, and he makes with the I-love-the-brown-eyed-intellectuals remarks that are veiled references, of course, to Joey: The One That Got Away. Sadia asks him why it took him so long to ask her out, so we get some more veiled references to Joey: The One That Got Away, as Pacey assures FlopHair that he's recovered from all his past entanglements. Pacey's drink is brought by Bumbling Waitress, who I wish had had more lines, because she is much more interesting than Sadia. Pacey then proposes a toast to getting to know each other better. "Much better," she says, with all the subtlety of a battery-acid martini. They stare meaningfully into each other's eyes. If this were an episode of Saved By The Bell, which it almost is, this is where the audience would go, "Woo!"

Credits. Ah, we meet again, bitches.

Fade up on Joey's studio-apartment-size dorm room, where she is lying boobs-down on the bed while Eddie sits at the end of it on the floor. They are discussing Catch-22, of which they are sharing a copy of the Golden Anvil Edition ("Now with more parallels to your life!"). Eddie explains how Yossarian's escape is a testament to the power of the individual and blah blah blah, and Joey disagrees and says that Yossarian eventually has to accept the meaninglessness of so forth and so on. Joey insists that Professor Flip-Flops interprets the book the way she does, and Eddie suggests that the class isn't very meaningful if all she does is repeat the opinions the professor expressed. She returns to her usual grade-grubbing as an excuse for her pathetic attempts to parrot the teacher. She reminds Eddie that this final has been made rather important by their mishandling of the final. You know what makes a really compelling topic for drama? People's grades. That, and moving your checking account to a different bank in order to have a wider ATM network. Those are pretty much the high points of human drama, as far as I'm concerned.

Comic Relief Audrey comes strolling in, sighs extravagantly, says, "This! Isn't! Happening!" and flops down on the bed. Asked what's wrong, she declares that God is punishing her, and she and Joey take a preposterously long time to exposit that Audrey has been told that because she missed so much class time during her stint in e-ray-ab-hay, she has to come to summer school if she wants to remain at Worthington ("the Harvard of the WB"). I just love that pink fur sit-up pillow Audrey has. It's like someone killed and skinned one of Anna Nicole Smith's dogs. Actually, it was probably her. Audrey whimpers and wails about how she'll be alone for the summer once Joey leaves in a few days. Comic Relief Audrey declares that she's off to "negotiate," and Joey tells her she doubts that the terms are negotiable. If you don't know that Audrey is going to say, "Everything's negotiable," which she does, then you are off your game, big-time. When she's gone, Eddie asks Joey why she's friends with Audrey. "She saved my life once at a bar in Calcutta," Joey says warily. Like, ha ha, everyone Joey knows is such a burden on her poor little shoulders. It's so unfair, considering how kind and loyal and patient she is with everyone she knows. Oh, wait, I forgot something. Like every piece of behavior Joey has ever displayed.

Joey brings up to Eddie the fact that they will be kicked out of the dorm in two days, which causes him to make an odd semi-Chris Farley reference by telling her they can go live in his car down by the river. "That is not the plan," says a blankly grinning Joey. She reminds him that they had decided to go live with Bessie, get jobs, and save some money. Eddie says he doesn't want to listen to her father lecture him about his lack of prospects. Uh, somehow I think you can survive the Potterfamilias and his Hammer Of Judgment. The man feels blessed that there are now walls between his toilet and other people. I think he can handle the disappointment. The exposition is flying fast and furious as Joey reminds Eddie that he's leaving in the fall for a prestigious writing program, and he adds that it's in California. So if they're going to be "ripped apart by geography" in the fall, he thinks they'd better spend the summer doing something better than "bussing tables." Apparently, he is not aware that Capeside in general -- and waiting tables in Capeside in particular -- is a love magnet. Eddie tells her that he in fact has big plans for their summer, but he's not going to tell her what they are until after she finishes her English final. "What if I can't wait that long?" she asks playfully. "I think you can," he says calmly. She scootches up on the bed, leaving the chest section of her shirt left behind and buried under her navel. She threatens to, I guess, sex it out of him, and then they have a really, really unappealing-looking kiss. He finally pulls away from her with a smirk of "Nice try." "You officially suck," she says as he resettles on the floor, leaving her to stew. She goes back to Catch-22. If there weren't literary parallels or kissing, how would this show fill the time?

A book-to-book cut shows us that Little David is working the helpline to a guy reading a book called Authentic Happiness. Man, I could use a little Authentic Happiness to get me through this show. Little David looks up, surprised to see Jack standing in the door. He hustles the helpline person off the phone, which seems like perhaps not the best display of priorities I've ever seen, but we'll let it slide. "Rough day?" Jack asks. "Yeah, exams bring out the worst in people," Little David snots, because he has been wronged and has not forgotten it. Jack tries to make conversation, but Tiny Gay Snotting David is having none of it. "Did you need something?" he snaps. Jack observes that Little David is still mad, and David comes back with an even snottier, "Speak quickly, Jack." He goes on to blow off Jack as a "feckless ex-boyfriend" whose presence is uninteresting to him as compared to the problems of the people on the helpline. First of all, I think the writers are working without their dictionaries again, because "feckless" means "weak and ineffective," and I don't think that's what Little David really means. Second of all, this is only one of many times on this show where a character would be well served by telling someone who's acting like an asshole to just shove off instead of trying to suck up to them, but Jack takes the suck-up route, as have so many of his friends throughout history.

He begs Little David to just talk to him. "Meet with me," he pleads. I'm sorry, "meet with me"? What is this, the Chamber of Commerce? Are we arranging a welcome breakfast for a visiting head of state? On what planet do you try to heal a breakup with the phrase "meet with me"? Oh, right. The planet of I, Kerr Smith, Do Not Want To Make My Romantic Storylines Seem Too Romantic, Lest I Explode In A Little Purple Puff Of Gay. Little David, swept away by the romance of "meet with me," comes out with a cold "maybe." What a little prick. Despite this, Jack grins as if tickled at being given this tiny opportunity to redeem himself for having done absolutely nothing wrong. Jack says that if Little David wants to meet, he can just come to Hell's Kitchen tonight, where Jack will be. Little David can't tonight, so Jack suggests tomorrow, after eight. Little David gives a tentative grin indicating that perhaps he will forgive Jack for doing absolutely nothing wrong, and tells Jack he works until nine. Blah blah blah tentative possible reconciliation, Jack leaves happy, and Kerr leaves happy because he didn't have to kiss anyone.

Cut to the firm of Glass, Steel & Paneling, or whatever Pacey's workplace is called. In a suit, Pacey walks into a conference room where a crowd of dorky aspiring broker types are seated around a table, looking terrified. "I had sex with a beautiful woman last night," Pacey says. The Thumping Bass Guitar Of Sex starts up. And thus begins a long lecture in which Pacey talks like a complete twit about how he's got this beautiful woman in his bed for one reason and one reason only -- he is making a lot of money, and they can, too. If the sound of him lecturing about how money is the only thing that matters sounds a little ridiculous and out of character to you, you're not alone. As they so often do, the writers are abandoning everything they've ever told us about who this kid is in order to set him up for one more redemption storyline before we all pack up our pup tents and go home. The blank-faced guys around the table stare at Pacey as he blathers about the thrill of riches, tells them that they'd better not be late on Monday, and storms out. I'm so glad they're spending the last few episodes doing important things, you know? Because I totally care about this. When he walks out of the conference room, he runs smack into Boss Man Rich, who asks him how it went. Pacey says that he learned from the best. "That's sweet," Boss Man Rich smarms. "You want to make out, or...?" Wow, funny. Pacey notices some excitement in the background in the subtle form of an off-camera guy going, "Woo!" and Boss Man Rich tells him that Stock-O-Doom is still rising in anticipation of its highly-anticipated FDA ruling. Which I'm thinking will go fine, don't you think? Boss Man Rich uses the terms "nether regions" and "amigo" in explaining this turn of events, so he is pretty much as hateful as ever. On his way out, Boss Man Rich asks Pacey if he "sealed the deal" with Sadia, and Pacey -- suddenly a guy who treats women like shit, in addition to a greedy bastard -- oozes that BMR should "ask those guys in there." BMR says that he is now in awe of Pacey. "Nicely done," says BMR. "You know, that's just what she said," Pacey says. You know, you'd think when they were going to flip a U-turn of this magnitude with a character, they'd give a little more warning. I'd appreciate it, because I'm having a bit of whiplash.

Commercials. I miss the Not! Line. ["Oh, it's still open." -- Sars]