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B-
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B
Look. LOOK. I'm not asking here. I'M TELLING YOU. If you show Roadster in close-up ONE MORE TIME, I will be forced to find out where R.J. Cutler currently lives, go there, and PEPPER HIS FOREHEAD WITH TINY RAPID BLOWS FROM A BALL-PEEN HAMMER.
You think I'm kidding? Try me.
So, Roadster's monkey-face is on-camera, saying that Brad has a new boy-crush. Then Brad's on camera saying something about it being boring. What? Roadster's continuous close-ups? Yes. I agree. Boring, indeed. But I think he's talking about dating or something, because Roadster says something about how of course it's boring because Brad doesn't fool around with guys like him (Roadster) because guys like him (Roadster) make things exciting. "But Robby," says Brad, smiling the smile of a young gay man who knows deep down in his heart that Roadster is just eight beers away from some quality smooching, "you don't fool around with guys." Then Abby (I know it's Abby because, well, because I've seen the previews and stuff) says, "Robby? Would you fool around with Brad? Honestly." Roadster nervously says, "Huh-uh-huh...NO!" Brad then asks Abby if she'd fool around with him. Abby honestly answers in the negative. Then Roadster, once again making this ALL ABOUT HIM, says, "Would you fool around with me?" "Absolutely," she says. Somewhere out there, Saran-Wrap wakes up in a cold, twisted sweat, screaming, "No! No, Robby, NOOOOOOOO!!!"
After the credits, Allie's hanging out with her friend Brett and telling us that they help each other and that Brett is ber-smart and responsible and that Allie's the fuck-up with the heart of gold. Then we have another one of those show-starting conversational montages where it becomes readily apparent that the theme of this week's show is "FRIENDS."
Then we officially meet "Abby" and her personal segment.
Abby tells us that she and Brad have been through a lot and that she's the first person that Brad came out to. "We're like peas and carrots, you know?" says Brad. "We just, like, go together." What, you and Abby are Birdseye Frozen Select vegetables? If you're going to be vegetables that go together, why not be a Pan-Asian Medley or a Southern Italian blend? Huh? Peas and carrots? Bo-ring. Totally.
As Abby and Brad hang out and discuss whether Brad reminds her of a giraffe or a turtle (or a pea or a carrot), Abby's VO tells us that high school has made her who she is today and that she's had the best years of her life with Brad. She's very concerned about what's going to happen year when they go off to college, because she knows they won't end up at the same school (and it will soon become very clear that Abby very well may not end up at ANY school). Brad has wanted to go to NYU since his sophomore year, and he's intensely excited about getting the hell out of Dodge and over to a real city with more than one gay person.
“ Don't act all stupefied and shit, girl. You screwed up in a major way and, finally, the World's Most Lenient Educator is calling you on it. Deal. ”
So Brad comes down his stairway and hugs his dad, and his mom is all, "What happened? What's going on? YOU'RE GAY? OH MY GOD! ME TOO! I'm gay too! Isn't that fabulous?!" No, she doesn't say that. Brad informs his parents that he got into NYU. Rock on, Brad. ROCK ON. When Brad gets to art class, the only other gay person in Highland Park, his art teacher, tells him congratulations on getting into college. Brad is clearly jazzed up. As well he should be. Dude. I was working at Rose Records and taking a year off when my mom called me to tell me I got into the Goodman School of Drama at DePaul University. About twenty-five customers had to have their hearing checked at the local emergency room as a result of my shrieks of joy. Seriously.
All of Brad's friends are ecstatic for him except Abby. "I'm so emotional today and I don't know why," she whines as Brad puts his books into his locker. Brad wants to know if Abby's coming over tonight, and the tone of her voice when she responds in the affirmative is pretty much the equivalent of a three-toed sloth lying back, scratching its belly, and thinking to itself, "Yeah...I guess I could get up. Or I could just...you know...lie here for few more days." It would seem that Little Miss Self-Involved is a wee bit concerned about what SHE'S going to do when Brad goes off to school. "I can't just drive over to his house or call him up every two seconds just to see what he's doing. It's gonna be so weird." It's called LIFE, Abby. Look it up. The kid just got into his first-choice school, he's super-talented, he's not too far away from ultra-coolness, and let me make this clear: HE'S YOUR FRIEND. This is SO not about you. How about parking that ozone-layer of a psyche of yours for a little bit and telling YOUR FRIEND how happy you are for him? Huh? God. What a little snot.
I mean, really. My best friend Lena went off to Winona, Minnesota to go to college, and I went off to Ohio University for two weeks (before I realized that the drama students there were more interested in keggers before classes than they were in, um, ACTING), and then I took a year off and it never once, NOT ONCE, occurred to me to be all pissy because my best friend wasn't at my beck and call 24/7. Hello? Long distance, anyone?
Poster child for problem children Allie is back, and she's making her daily visit to the dean's office to pick up her unauthorized absences sheet. Turns out she has seven of these hummers. "If they don't get cleared, I get Saturday detention," she says ruefully. "Which I've done plenty of times." Way to underachieve, Allie. "Ditching school is the first good example," she says in VO, "that I did what I wanted to do and I didn't think about the future." Nice. Real nice.
Then Allie's back with the World's Most Patient Teacher, and he's telling her that what he has in his possession is what he's going to grade and that, quite frankly, it's not going to be embossed with ANY kind of passing grade. Allie's all surprised and shocked that her sad excuse for a paper isn't going to get her a passing grade. Remember all those times you walked into class (when you were even IN class, that is) with a diskette and some crap-ass excuse about computer problems, Allie? Remember that? Yeah. Don't act all stupefied and shit, girl. You screwed up in a major way and, finally, the World's Most Lenient Educator is calling you on it. Deal. "A failing grade can mean fifty-eight, fifty-nine percent," the Dalai Lama of High School is saying, "which means you're still going to be okay in the class. Assuming you get yourself to class. All the time." You go, Professor Patience. YOU GO. Allie sort of snottily thanks him and walks off.
Winter Chill
“ 'Dude. Chill. You take that tone with me one more time and I'll come right on over there and set your tie-dye collection on FIRE. You got me?' ”
thing we know, Howlin' Allie is simply going OFF on her mother on the phone. "I messed up with those grades, Mom! That's my answer! I MESSED UP! Am I going to graduate? Then that's really, at this point, unfortunately, what we have to worry about." Bring it down a notch, Howler. In a VO, Allie's mom says that her fear with Allie is that she doesn't understand that the things she's done in the past are mistakes. "I just don't want anything that she's done to become so irreversible that she can't move on from it," she says in an interview. Back in Shriekerville, Allie's saying, "Did you ever think that someone could be upset with themselves? You don't have to bring upon this whole 'I'm so disappointed in you.' 'Cuz you know what? It doesn't help the situation any much better!" "Any much better"? Damn. She really should have gone to class more; her grammar is abhorrent. And yes, she's upset, so I really should cut her some slack, but you know what? I'm not going to. She chose to ditch class and hang out down by the docks or whatever and, you know, tough titties, okay?
"I feel no support!" she howls. "You just said, 'I was there to support you the whole time'. Well, the whole time, Mom! It's not even over! School's not over! My life is not over! So I hope that you're STILL there to support me! Not was! STILL!" The doorbell rings. "Listen, Mom, Brett's over. I'm not gonna sit here and have this conversation any longer. All right? We can talk about this later. I'M NOT GONNA HANG UP ON YOU BUT IF YOU DON'T LET ME GET OFF THE PHONE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HANG UP THE PHONE TO ANSWER THE DOOR?! ALL OF A SUDDEN I THINK YOU'RE UNIMPORTANT BECAUSE I HAVE TO ANSWER A DOOR? THAT'S MESSED UP!" She slams the phone down.
Ring ring.
Allie: WHAAAAT? WHAT IS IT NOW?
Regina: Dude. Chill. You take that tone with me one more time and I'll come right on over there and set your tie-dye collection on FIRE. You got me?
Allie: Sorry. [sniff] Sorry, Reg.
Regina: Okay. That's better. Breathe.
Allie: [deep breath] Okay.
Regina: Good. Now. I'm going to say something and you're going to listen and if you go all Cell Block H on my ass I will, and make no mistake, take a blowtorch to your chick-music collection. Okay?
Allie: Okaaaay.
Regina:She is your mother, Allie.
Allie: I know but --
Regina: Tie-dye, Allie. TIE-DYE.
Allie: Sorry.
Regina: She is your mother and she loves you. You are a global fuck-up. You dicked away your high school career because you felt like it. Now you're paying for it. Your mother is going through a MAJOR divorce with a man who knocked someone else up and who thinks that new shoes will make up for his inherent ickiness. You need to take a step back and realize something.
Allie: What?
Regina: You fucked up. Plain and simple. Now, here's what I want you to do. I want you to pick up that phone, call your suffering mother, and apologize to her for screaming at her like an Albanian fishwife.
Allie: No! No way! She fucking --
Regina: Chick music, dude. CHICK MUSIC.
Allie: [sigh] Okay...
Regina: There's not much you can do about your grades now, you know? Unless there's a nuclear war and your entire academic record is wiped out, you're going to have to suck it up and deal. Get yourself some extra credit work. Kiss some high-grade teacher ass. Look into community college and plan on working your screeching ass off for a year or so. Start taking responsibility for your actions. Be your future. Make...make it. Be the ball, Danny.
Allie:What?
Regina: Don't tell me you've never seen Caddyshack.
Allie: Nuh-uh.
Regina: Jesus. What are they TEACHING kids today? Rent it, Allie. All of the answers to life's problems can be found within that movie. Trust me.
Allie: But my mom -- she's being such a bitch --
Regina:That's it. I'm coming over there. Hide the tie-dye, you little fuck-up, or it's going down.
Click.
Over at Casa de Puck Lite, Papa Lite is walking down to the basement and yelling at Morgan to get his ass upstairs. "College is like the first step to your own life," Puck Lite is saying in a VO. "I always look forward to, like, living on campus, and like hanging out and making a bunch of friends and stuff like that but, you know, having to go through all the years of college...you can't mess up too much and you can't slack off. It's kind of scary."
Papa Lite is sitting at the kitchen table, telling Puck Lite to clear his head. Looks like they're filling out college applications. Surprisingly enough, I think Papa Lite is trying to help his son. Dammit. Dammit all to hell. Am I going to have to start liking Papa Lite? Am I? It's like a whole new world order here. Dammit.
Papa Lite's trying to explain to Mouth that he has to prioritize some list they put together, and Mouth's being all obstinate and ADD-ish. Dad's losing patience, but he's still trying to help. "Can I listen to music while I do this?" Puck Lite asks. "No," says Dad. "You sure?" counters Puck Lite. "I'm sure," dad says. "'Kay," says Puck Lite. "I love you." At least, I think that's what he said. If he did then, you know, I might just have to hug him. "Morgan has this very strong pull towards being an adolescent with no responsibilities," says Papa Lite in a VO. "He's like a fucking bronco that has to be ridden." Did he just say "fucking"? On PBS? Wow. Cool. "Can we go get some ice cream?" asks Puck Lite. "Maybe after we finish this," responds Dad. "We're optimistic," says Dad in an interview, "that the day will come -- and we only hope we're still alive -- that things are going to coalesce for this kid." Awww.
Then Papa Lite's asking Morgan what he learned in drama class and how it shaped him, and when Morgan answers, Papa really seems to be listening. He then tells Morgan that he's going to put the answers into a simple sentence format (note: he's got a cute wittle kitty resting in his arms as he says this...dammit...I really didn't want to like this guy). Then Papa Lite says, "Mary! I'm taking the idiots out for some ice cream!" Heh. Yeah. I'm liking him quite a bit right now...
Meanwhile, Abby's paying a visit to Brad's house. Brad's dad lets her in and asks, "How's it going?" Abby's response? "Everybody's getting into college but me." Jesus. LET IT GO. He asked you how you WERE, you selfish little snit. Say "fine" and move on.
Up in Brad's room, Abby's still bitching about the college acceptance thing and Brad's kind of laughing at her. "Why're you laughing?" she snaps. "You think it's funny?" Brad responds that they shouldn't have to do homework anymore because they're almost second-semester seniors. "You're in college. You shouldn't have to do homework. You're absolutely right," she snottily retorts. "You suck. Sorry I have a lot on my mind. Sorry I just didn't get into college and I'm all relaxed and content." Dude. We get it. WE GET IT. Shut UP, already. "I'm not being sarcastic right now, even though you're smiling," she snips. "Should I frown?" asks Brad, wondering why he even invited this goddamn bellyacher over in the first place. "I don't really care, either," she whines, referring to homework. "I'm not getting into college anyway, why try now?" I see that this episode is entirely devoted to making me want to smack this bitch UP.
“ Dude. It's over. Suck it up and get a job at Burger King. Seriously. ”
"I think college is a really huge thing for her right now," says Brad in a VO. No, really, Brad? What gave you that idea? Was it her constant inability to stray from the subject of college and how she's not getting in? Jealous much, Abalone? "I think she's very, very scared but, she's still Abby. We're good. We're just working through some things," Brad says, installing himself, once again, in the Regina's Favorite People Hall Of Fame. His best friend's turned into a self-centered jealous idiot, and he's totally excusing her behavior and trying to be supportive. He rocks.
After the non-commercial break (you know, that part where the action fades out, the logo comes up, and there's supposed to be a commercial but because this is PBS, there isn't one), Abalone's on the phone, checking with the University of Wisconsin to see if she got accepted or not. In an interview, Puck Lite says, "As long as you've got friends, you can get through the rough and the tough of it. Because, at least you've got somebody to tell it to." Right on, Mouthy. Right on. Oh, I'm not including the little cut scenes of some guy I've never seen before opening his accept/decline envelope from the University of Wisconsin. Why? BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHO HE IS. "If you walk around with something bottled up inside you, you know," Puck Lite continues, "it'll eat away at you inside until, like, you know, you just break down." My little Pucky just gets better and better.
Abalone informs us in a voice-over that she got deferred, and that it's frustrating because all of her other friends have managed to get into college. She says that it's a slap in the face when you get rejected for something. Dude. You were deferred, you weren't rejected. UW-Mad accepts over 10,000 students per year. Their score requirements aren't really all that (believe me, I checked). It's a really popular school, however, especially with Wisco residents; their freshman class is probably just full up. Let it go. Really.
Over a sweeping montage of multi-colored lockers, Allie tells us that she screwed around during her high-school career and that she doesn't have much time to prove that she can accomplish something. No shit, Sheer-Luck. Ugly Martha Quinn meets with Allie to go over her college essay which is, really, sort of chock-full of "I fucked up but I want to make good" vernacular that pretty much sounds like Allie trying to make excuses for herself. Ugly Martha Quinn goes on to say that her entire essay is all about how she had a horrible high-school career but she really pulled it together. Unfortunately, Allie's grades pretty much negate the central theme of her essay. "I know I'm lost," Allie says in an interview, "and yet, I have such direction. Because I know where the problems are. I know I need to solve them. I don't know how. That is where I'm lost. I don't know how!" Dude. It's over. Suck it up and get a job at Burger King. Seriously.
Elsewhere at the school, Brad's hanging out with a mutual friend of his and Abalone's. Mutual Friend says that Abalone was freaking out last night because Brad didn't call her. Mutual Friend says that Abalone is losing it. However, Abalone is not communicating this to Brad. But she somehow expects Brad to telepathically know that Abalone's upset. Whatever.