Plink, plinkety-plinky. The Strummy Strings Of Morning Banter ring out in the Cohen kitchen, which Ryan enters to discover Seth lying motionless on a nearby couch, where he has apparently lain since last week. Ryan hits a remote, which turns on a nearby television, and avoids the usual morning entertainment news about The O.C.'s tanking ratings in lieu of some barking news program. Seth, from under his piles of flannel pajamas and sadness, moans, "Oh, dude, please turn that off." Ryan tries to engage Seth in conversation, but Seth drawls, "Sssssh...I'm sleeping." But Ryan sees right through this clever little ruse, barreling on, "Please tell me you weren't up watching movies all night." Seth banters that he didn't do anything like that, adding by way of unraveling his entire argument, "Just Darkman and Hellboy and the first two Matrixes." So besides watching movies, Seth also managed to plan the First Annual Never Get Laid Again Film Festival Fun Pack. I guess any film containing a character named "Amidala" will be saved for the closing night ceremony. Back on the couch, Seth hilariously tries to correct his usage, groping for the plural of "matrix." He makes it as far as what sounds like "matrisis" before he asks "What's the plural of matrix?" and Pamie and I scream "It's 'matrices,' der" from the couch through a haze of Diet Coke and guacamole-flavored Doritos. I know. You hear of my rock-star life and you die with jealousy just a little bit.
Ryan offers Seth a cup of coffee with an advertising-savvy, "Coffee...mmmmm," and then stirs in the cream, sugar, and plot development, reminding Seth, "You need to get in the shower. We got school." Seth insists that he took a shower yesterday, and when Ryan fact-checks this, Seth clarifies, "I took a shower the day before yesterday." Ryan, understudying for the role of Sandy Cohen, tells Seth that he's going to make him a bagel, and Seth indicates that his body will tell him when it's time for him to eat. Ryan banters, "Just like it's telling you when it needs to shower?" Seth wants Ryan to try a little tenderness, but Ryan can't abide Seth's wallowing, counseling, "Enough's enough." Yes, Seth. Take a page from the Ryan Atwood playbook. If he can forget a troubled past, a pregnant wife, and the wholesale existence of something called a "Chino," you can forget about your not-girlfriend having not-sex in San Diego. Seth says that he's not wallowing, and that, in fact, what we are watching is "agonizing." He clarifies that wallowing includes "lounging around, eating ice cream, watching VH1." A show of hands from people who have just learned they were "wallowing" in an activity they previously referred to as "weekend plans." Hang on. Typing with one hand. In other news, Seth continues, agonizing "requires discipline. Days of no sleep. No food." Yeah, that's not what I'm doing. I wasn't even aware the expression "no food" existed. He rehashes again that agonizing also includes sitting around wondering if Zach and Summer had sex in a hotel room to his. Ryan, shmearing the morning away as is expected according to local custom, says that such speculation is "pointless," and that Seth will never really know for sure what happened that night in San Diego. Seth agrees that he will never know, "unless [he asks] Summer." Ryan tries to undo this argument, but Seth knows a lot of words and he says them really quickly and in an arbitrary order, telling Ryan that it's the uncertainty of the situation that's getting to him. Ryan does argue that "it's weird and it's creepy and it's none of [Seth's] business," and Seth agrees, concluding, "I'll ask Zach." With which the homeless troll doll who has replaced the former Seth Cohen ambles down the hall and slightly further out of my heart.
“ Caleb: 'After my heart attack, I realized that something could happen to me at any time.' Not soon enough, I'm afraid, SHOW. ”
Opening credits: "To live anywhere else/ Just wouldn't be fair/ And that's why I'll never leave/ Good ol' Delaware." Time for some other states to start getting their due, y'all.
Kirsten walks into her bedroom to find her husband putting on a tie and still trying to shake off the smell of rank death that surrounds him after his ill-timed decision to suck face with the Crypt Keeper. She asks if he's seen Seth, and Sandy banters, "I've smelled him. He smells like teen spirit to me." Well, here I am now. Entertain me. Kirsten says that she tried to talk to him, but he just "shared this long-winded review of some movie called...Hellboy?" With which I can barely contain my surprise that Kelly Rowan doesn't then turn directly toward the camera and add, "Now available on video and DVD. Rent it tonight and go home happy!" Because really. That'll do. Sandy blames this behavior on "lady drama," and Kirsten turns it around with a biting "There seems to be a lot of that going around," which indicates that she might not so much be talking about Seth anymore. Sandy laments, "Still not ready to forgive and forget?" She responds with stony silence, so Sandy has no choice but to play the "dead professor" card (that one seems to be rising to the top of the deck with suspicious regularity lately), saying, "I'd better go and pay my respects to Max." Ever the better, more mature, and all-around blonder person, Kirsten asks, "You want some company?" He says he thinks that wouldn't be such a good idea, but she says she'd be happy to go to the service. But, you see, there won't be any service. "Rebecca could never go," Sandy says. "The feds would be there waiting for her. It's just gonna be the two of us." He adds that he knows it sounds "weird," and Kirsten confirms that this is all, in fact, "beyond weird." She and her smart suit take their leave to go call her father, who is apparently having some "lady trouble of his own." But it wouldn't surprise me if he first wanted to offer his own perspective on Hellboy.
Remember when Julie was bad? Remember when Julie was on this show at all? Let's be actively reminded of both! Over at the suddenly-prosperous Newport Group, Julie yells, "Don't tell me to calm down!" in the middle of some fight with Caleb, because Caleb thought Hellboy was the perfect blend of comic-book fantasy and drama, whereas Julie believed it had some "Act III problems." Outside the office, Kirsten runs into Lindsay, who indicates that Caleb called her last night and asked her to drop by the office. Kirsten starts to say that she has no idea what this could all be about, and just then Caleb notices them and calls them into his office. Kirsten notes Julie's piercing gaze and is all, "Awkward," suggesting that they come back. Caleb tells her that he and Julie are "finished," and sits them both down. The ultimate businessman -- except when he was nearly jailed for being such a terrible businessman -- he gets right down to business. He would like to formally adopt Lindsay. Kirsten smiles. Julie sneers. Lindsay says the words "Oh, my god" without managing to hit on any actual consonants during her pronunciation of the words. But Caleb...why NOW? "You may ask 'why now,'" Caleb filibusters, explaining, "After my heart attack, I realized that something could happen to me at any time." Not soon enough, I'm afraid, SHOW. "This way, Lindsay will be a legal heir. And I'll know that she'll always be taken care of." Julie tries to argue that Lindsay has nothing to worry about and that she'll take care of her, but Caleb argues, "This is about more than financial security," which seems like a cue line for a Caleb-performed musical number entitled, "Roth IRAs Are A Secure, Interest-Bearing Investment" that will succeed in making this lesson on fiscal discipline the most boring thing that has ever happened on television. And also? Nothing rhymes with "fiduciary." Caleb adds that Lindsay has stood by him though all of this, for some completely unknown reason, and as a reward, he would be proud to tell the world that he's her father. Are there any other prizes in this paternity Showcase Showdown? He continues that he knows this is a big step, but "should you decide you want to take it, I think a party would certainly be in order." What a tremendously random thing to say. Julie huffs out with an excuse that she has "work to do," brushing past her new daughter with a snide "Welcome to the family, Lindsay."