Okay, there were four plot lines last week, and two were hilarious: the hoax of April Tuna's death, and Josh's mullet. The other two -- the Sam, George, and Harrison love triangle and Nicole's adoption -- were almost as lame as Harrison's leukemia. Guess which ones are being continued?
Last week on Popular, Harrison asks Sam to be his girlfriend. She chooses George. Nicole finds out that her mother's not dead, but a lunch lady right there at Kennedy.
Kennedy cafeteria. Okay, so there's this food fight and everyone's acting like it's a weekly occurrence. Never mind that last year, there was a food fight in the "Truth or Consequences" episode and it was such a big deal that they made Sam and Brooke relive their stupid cat fighting hijinks for the entire episode. Yet, this season, it's nothing major.
Now I have to say that I have a problem with how food fights are always presented as something cute, rebellious and spirited that teens do. All I can really think of is how some poor underpaid cafeteria worker who is wearing a stiff polyester uniform has to clean up after these kids. That's not very funny. Especially since we've learned recently that one of these lunch ladies is the mother of Nicole and another is the aunt of the vice-principal. I mean, I don't mean to get all sanctimonious and PC on you, especially since I'm going to be making snide comments about Carmen's near-date-rape later on, but someone has to clean this mess up and they're not going to be too happy about it. Am I the only one who can't get beyond the inconsideration shown in this scene?
Carmen, with her notebook and lunch tray in front of her, crawls on hands and knees over to where Brooke is hiding out under a table. Her neckline is plunging as it is, but on her hands and knees, there is so much cleavage, it makes you wonder what kind of deal they worked out with Latin American television to get Popular shown again down there. Brooke, who is wearing a lavender green turtleneck sweater and a pair of faded jeans, complains about the immaturity of high-school boys and how unchallenging her algebra worksheets are. Carmen is also "over" high-school boys. She chows on a banana, and although she doesn't say it, you know she's bummed that all that food that's flying around isn't in her gullet as we speak. "How long do we have to wait until everyone catches up to us?" asks an exasperated Brooke. "College?" asks Carmen, her mouth full of banana. Okay, even if I didn't know that Carmen was going to be almost date-raped from various promos and spoilers, I'd still predict it from the "provocative" outfit and mouth full of banana. Some milky-colored liquid is thrown, and it lands on Carmen and Brooke. No comment. "Follow me," says Brooke as she crawls out of the frame.
Credits.
The Julian residence, which is basically the set for Josh's family residence but with larger pieces of sculpture and less of that frou-frou French thing going on. Nicole and her mother -- the scary dyke-y adoptive mother, as opposed the downtrodden but luminous birth mother -- eat breakfast. Like, how exactly did a glamour puss like Nicole spring from this women's loins? Maybe her father was a big queen and taught her how to accessorize before he left for parts unknown. That probably explains her ambivalence towards gay men like Freddy Wong and Adam Rothschild. Nicole takes a tiny bite of her breakfast whatever and mentions that it's college fair week at Kennedy. Mother Julian smiles into the camera with a combination of perkiness and masculinity that makes you that that the football team she's been coaching all year just went to the Super Bowl, and mentions how excited she is about an appointment with her college advisor at four o'clock that afternoon. Nicole is all "good" and proceeds to ask her mother to read one of her college essays. As if the Nicoles of these world really care what their bitchy mothers think of their heartfelt essays. I know I've said this a hundred thousand times, but God, do I hate it when Nicole is supposed to have feelings. Mama Nicole is all, "Of course, I'm glad that you're taking an active interest in your future!" So then Nicole is all, "It's on what it's like to be adopted." Mama Nicole reads it in a couple of microseconds and pronounces it "fiction," especially the part about the lunch lady being her real mother. Nicole maintains that it's not fiction and that her real mother is in fact working at Kennedy as a lunch lady. "It's really important to me that you meet her, Mom!" says Nicole. Actually it's not, but it's important to the plot-line, so we'll just suspend our disbelief for a moment and assume that Nicole would actually imagine she'd derive warmth from a potential encounter between her bitchy adopted mother and her white-trash birth mother. "Not only do I not want to meet this woman, but I never want to hear the name Shaggy Louise Grout again." Oh, neither do we, Mother Julian, but this is Popular, so take what you like and leave the rest, like we, the viewers, have been doing all season. Oh no, please don't have Nicole cry!
Kennedy Hallway. Sam's got a dilemma regarding Harrison. Remember? Last week's ultimatum? And who's the best person to turn to? Who's gonna make it all better? Why, it's none other than George, her magical-black-guy boyfriend. But "magical" doesn't exactly describe AJ Montgomery's performance this week, as his line readings resemble that of a cyborg. "Don't-for-get-Sam-he-cre-a-ted-the-sit-u-a-tion [comma] he-made-you-choose." Sam still feels upset and guilty. George reminds her that Harrison is lashing out because he's hurt. "Trust-me [condescending but reassuring chuckle] he-was-n't-ser-i-ous-a-bout-ne-ver-talk-ing-to-you-a-gain [period]. He-just-needs-time [period]." George then goes on to laud Harrison for taking it all so well, since he would be devastated if Sam chose Harrison over him. They make out. Harrison walks by in Stalker-vision. Guilty looks all around.
“ I'm all for straight men acting respectfully toward women and all that good stuff, but I would think that if your frat is using your reputation for treating women well as its major selling point, that's got to be symptomatic of something fishy going on. ”
Another part of a Kennedy hallway. The camera pans past a sign announcing a College Fair toward Brooke, who is earnestly reading through some materials. Okay, can I just be a snot here and point out that if Brooke is indeed the straight-A student that they claim, she would not be taking the college fair seriously? Harvard, Yale, Stanford et cetera do not send reps to high-school college fairs. I mean, they might send an alum who already lives in the neighborhood in to distribute a stack of applications, but they don't need to convince any more people to apply and exhaust the resources of their admissions office than they already have. Colleges that send high-pressure outreach people to college fairs are usually desperate for applicants and aren't the sort of schools that someone like Brooke would be interested in applying to -- except as a safety, and I'm sure that Brooke doesn't need to learn anymore about the U Cal system.
Remember the Candace Bushnell look-alike S.A.T. coach who was Brooke's role model before she revealed herself to be a bitter drunk? Well, it seems she has a little sister. Or at least that's what this girl looks like who is checking Brooke out in a vaguely predatory way. She's kind of got this Phoebe-Cates-meets-Nancy-Allen facial expression thing going on -- and even that is giving it way too much credit. She introduces herself to Brooke as Flynn Hudson, a student at Coastal University. Coastal University? Whatever. Couldn't they have at least made it another Kennedy joke? Why couldn't it have been Ethel Kennedy College, the college that Brooke pretends to be going to when those guys sat down with her and Not-Candace Bushnell in "Citizen Shame"? How hard would it be to have some good running jokes that appeared throughout the season? Meanwhile, as they start doing close-ups of this college girl, you start realizing that the actress is probably forty. Nancy Cates promises that Coastal University will give Brooke the independence and mature environment she's been craving, and tries to plug her sorority, Alpha Theta, as well. "Alpha Thetas don't date boys, we date men!" says Nancy Cates. "It's not like it is in the movies, Brooke! Sororities are just a group of mature women achieving their goals together while at the same time forming life-long friendships." Okay. The fuck? I mean, I don't have the greatest credentials here. I went to a college that had a ban on Greek life. And I have nothing against straight women forming life-long friendships with each other and demanding maturity from the men they date or any of that. But even I knew that if some sorority girl who looks like she just got a divorce -- and who is staking out your high school, mind you -- tries to get you to pledge their sorority by saying something other than "we throw great parties and hot guys date us," you do not want to be part of that sorority, because it is most definitely a cult. "As an Alpha Theta," she continues, "you can say goodbye to smelly PlayStation addicts with Cheetos breath. Our men will treat you the way you deserve -- with respect!" And am I to suppose that "our men" were farmed in a patriarchy-free environment somewhere on a South American mountain? I'm all for straight men acting respectfully toward women and all that good stuff, but I would think that if your frat is using your reputation for treating women well as its major selling point, that's got to be symptomatic of something fishy going on. We're Lambda Pi Phi! Our boys won't date-rape you! Go us! Um, could I be any more pessimistic about the gender gap?
Cafeteria. Brooke and Carmen try to convince Sam and Lily to come with them to the frat party, 'cause after all, how crazy can a semi-formal be? I smell desperation and vulnerability -- who's wearing Date-rape eau de parfum? I think it's Carmen, who is giggling helplessly in anticipation of the chance to check out older boys. Of course Lily goes off on sororities as elitist, exclusionary, and hierarchical. Brooke repeats that whole line about mature men and women achieving their goals together and forming life-long friendships. Lily actually buys this flimsy excuse, especially when Brooke points out that they're all drinking gruel out of Big Gulps because of the food fights. And now that I look at their trays, I indeed see that all they have on them is Big Gulp cups. Hey! That was really funny! Carmen, predictably, has two. And that was also really funny. "Hey, wouldn't it be nice," says Brooke earnestly, "to escape the annoyance and pettiness of high school and be around adults?" To illustrate her point, Lenny and Squiggy, I mean Josh and George, enter with their Big Gulps o' gruel and sit down with the girls. Josh brags that they have cookie dough to throw so they can still start another food fight. I repeat. Josh and George aren't being cute at all right now. They are being complete assholes. So anyway, Josh sees the invite to the semi-formal and is all, "Whoa! Cool! A frat party!" Lily snatches it away from him and is all, "You're not invited!" This freaks the boys out. The young ladies revel in their ability to make their boys feel anxious. Brooke makes a crack about how they can always hang out at Chuck E. Cheese, and they all stomp off. At first George and Josh feel dejected but then Josh, who remembers the name of the frat, enlivens both of them by planning to crash. Then, to celebrate their wacky teen antics, they start a food fight with their cookie dough. Food fights are wrong. I repeat, wrong! And yes, I do realize that it's ironic in light of three school shootings in the news this week and a near-date-rape approaching later in this episode that I should fixate on food fights, but hey, that's me. I hate to clean.
Nicole's parent/teacher conference. Gee, I wonder which Kennedy teacher will be giving Nicole her parent/teacher conference. What class does Nicole spend a lot of time in? Is it Chem? Or could it be the Chemistry teacher, Chem? Or maybe it's that formerly androgynous science instructor named Chem? Why, it is Chem conducting the parent/teacher conference! What a surprise! Anyway, Chem is telling Mrs. Julian that she feels that Nicole should go to a technical school, or into the military. Hee! Miss Julian gives it right back to her about her own "level of achievement" as a high-school biology teacher. Before Chem can react, there's someone else at the door that wants to join the conference. It's Mary Lou! Get it? She's Nicole's parent; she should attend Nicole's parent/teacher conference. And that's fine with me, but what is Nicole doing at her own parent/teacher conference? Don't these things usually go on without the student present, and thus are not named student/parent/teacher conferences?