Woke up this morning, birds tweeting, sun is shining, and thought, what a lovely day to buy firearms. Or not.
College madness has begun. Mr. Token Ethnic Representative from Brown University speaks to a classroom of bored students and over-attentive parents, of whom Carmela is the most mesmerized. I have the feeling Carmela wasn't exactly a good girl when she was in high school, but she is certainly making up for it now with her snooty nose in the air. If Mr. Token Ethnic Representative asked the class any questions, I'm certain her hand would shoot up into the air and she'd strain not to utter, "Ooh, ooh, I know, I know!" Meadow, looking very Desperately Seeking Susan with all her bangles, twirls her hair and gives her best impression of a girl not on her way to college but rather the nearest Dairy Queen. Eric Scatino manages to appear eager yet comatose, and Dad (Davey) Scatino looks like he's strung out; he rudely gets up in the middle of Mr. Token Ethnic Representative's speech about getting "academic and extracurricular ducks in a row" to go take a leak. Cut to Tony doing the same. Number one, that is. Ew. I just hit the pause button, and it's stopped on Tony whipping it out. Ew again. Tony and Davey make small urinal talk. Tony says he saw Davey's wife alone and figured him for the "trotters," meaning the racetrack, I suppose. Davey starts mush-mouthing about a customer he couldn't shake who took half an hour to decide between a $20 soccer ball and a $22 soccer ball. Blah blah retail. Davey asks what Tony thinks, assumedly about the college reps. Tony says he thinks the guy from Bowdoin was making some sense. "No, I mean the game tonight," he says, and Tony sticks his bottom lip out as far as it goes in taken-abackness. So do I, since I have no idea what they're talking about so far. Miss Parker's three guesses: sports, hunting, Scrabble? Although men usually make no sense when their Mr. Happys are taking the air.
Artie jauntily enters and asks if they'd "like to be alone" with a dirty-little-man grin. Ha. I just love jokes lifted from The Man Show. Davey says he knew Artie would be lurking around somewhere, from the looks of the refreshment table. Artie says he doesn't know how he always gets roped into catering these things. Tony comes over to the mirror to Artie, and I notice there's a terrible comb-over incident happening on his head. He offers that Charmaine, the Bucco family pants-wearer, is no fool; one of their sfogliatelle in the right mouth and their daughter can go to any school she wants. Artie groans that so far only the janitor is eating the aforementioned pastry used for bribery. "That's a nice career path for a young lady," Tony says smartly. Yeah, whatever; you're in waste management. Davey laughs as he continues his never-ending pee. Tony says he's going to go eat one of "them belly bombs," which I take it is a joke at Artie's expense, because Artie jibes back, "Have I said fuck you yet?" This exchange makes me get down on my knees and thank God I'm not a proud owner of a Mr. Happy. Just going to the bathroom is socially exhausting. Artie is serving up platters of delicious Italian pastries. I love Krispy Kremes and Rice Krispie bars as much as the guy, but Italian pastry is the nummiest. Yes, I said nummiest. Maybe it's better because Italians never use the word "crispy" with a "k" to name their desserts. Davey compliments Artie by telling him he's glad he didn't eat dinner; Artie says cattily that it's nice to be appreciated by your friends, shoots daggers at Tony, and stalks off. Tony calls him the "sensitive chef." Do you two want to be alone? Ha ha ha, hee hee hee. It's funny when I say it.
“ Yes, I like to be in debt to gangsters for fun as well. But only on the weekends, when I'm feeling really wacky! ”
Meadow and Eric slither over to their dads. Meadow looks stoned. Actually, she always has that sleepy-eyed stoned look. It must be the heavy eye make-up. Eric asks his dad for twenty bucks. The dads play dad as they groan over their kids' ungratefulness. "What, did you think he was coming over here to say gee dad, thanks for taking the time to come to this important event?" Meadow sniggers as she and Tony snuggle. Blech. Tony asks how Eric's doing. In my opinion, not good. He looks like a lemon-colored leftover from The Wonder Years or the evil twin of Eric Forman on That 70s Show. Ew. Davey, mouth full, tells him he should eat. Eric informs him that he and Meadow are going to Starbucks. Somehow he makes it sound like an extremely repellent place. Tony inquires after his college plans, asking if he's planning to go to Brown. Eric says it's a good school in such a blas way I get the urge to slap him, and then he laments over the "starfucking" that goes on there. I think you'd fuck some stars if you got the chance, Eric, if you know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge. Davey calls him a "Latrine Lip," which sends me into giggly convulsions, and indicates Meadow, as if to say "there's a lady present." Yeah, some lady. "He's right," Miss Meadow chimes in, and pushes away Tony's arm, which I assume was trying to cover her ears from the profanity of men. Let's just assume that. It looks weird, like he was harassing her or something. "This jamoke will still go wherever his mother tells him, he's no different than his old man," Davey says. "You too?" Artie yelps, because he thinks he's found someone as whipped as himself. Tony bemoans the evolution of his friends, telling the kids that in high school Artie and Davey were like Joe Namath and Y.A. Tittle, and now they're like Phil Donahue and Alan Alda. Artie looks very sheepish. Yes, he means you, Artie; Charmaine has your balls in a vice. Of course, you'd look sheepish too if someone called you Phil Donahue. Or Tittle, for that matter.
Tony and Davey, walking together down a very eerily-lit school hallway. I'm expecting zombie teenagers to leap out at them from classroom doorways any time now. Davey tells him he heard through the grapevine that Tony's taking over his uncle's game, the "big one." Ah hah! I smell gambling. I knew it couldn't be a clandestine high-stakes game of Uno. Tony is almost amused at Davey's use of "the grapevine," and sagely answers, "You know if you listen close to that song, it says believe none of what you hear and half of what you see." Davey hems and haws and hums and says he just likes "to play a little." Oh Jesus. He's gonna owe big money by the end of this episode, I can see it now. In fact, I could see it now if I wanted. On tape and in my head. I've seen it before! Hee. Anyway, Tony tells him this game is not for him. Davey hems and haws and hums, says "naw" a billion times and that it'd just be a "kick." Yes, I like to be in debt to gangsters for fun as well. But only on the weekends, when I'm feeling really wacky! Tony sees he must speak slowly and enunciate for this schmuck, because he's not getting it. He tells Davey he's a nice guy and he likes him, he could get hurt, and to trust him -- "this game is not for you." Davey comes back with "You know how many jock straps I sold last week?" Funny, but that's not enough for this game, stupid. "Come on, let's go see what the Wayo from Bucknell's gotta say." I could guess "Wayo" is some sort of racial slur, but fortunately I don't know what it means. But Davey was the evil cyborg in Terminator 2. I just had to mention that. ["He's also in The X-Files now." -- Sars]
“ He calls them pussies. I loathe that term. It's right up there with that c-word that means the same thing. ”
Melfi's office. Aerial shot of Melfi looking very sixties with much too flippy hair. Tony is all gut in a paisley number as he slouches in his chair. "Do you wanna tell me what you're thinking?" Tony rolls his eyes and sighs, "Believe me, you don't wanna know." She eggs him on with her smartypants look as she drapes herself all over her chair in her beige sweater set. Way too much leg, Jennifer. "You wanta know what I'm thinking? Seriously? I'm thinking I'd like to take a brick and smash your fucking face into fucking hamburger." "Okay," Melfi responds, with a face that indicates she just wet herself. Tony feels bad and takes it back, saying she shouldn't worry, he knows he broke her coffee table before and it's not going to happen again. "But you'd like to smash my face," Melfi pouts. "Not really, it's just a way of describing how I'm feeling," Tony explains, but Melfi is hurt. "Do you think making hamburger out of me would make you feel better?" Tony launches into a speech about why she won't let it go, and is it a woman thing, and he's just telling her how he feels and now she's going to torture him with it, and he doesn't even know why he asked to come back into therapy with her. "I got the world by the balls and I can't stop feeling like I'm a fucking loser" is his punchline. Melfi perks up at this. Eureka, Oedipus! "Who makes you feel like a loser, your mother?" Tony doesn't plan on talking about Livia right now, and tells Melfi they've "wasted enough oxygen on that one." Everything and everybody is bothering him. "I see some guy walking down the street, you know, with a clear head. You know the type, he's always fuckin' whistlin like the happy fuckin' wanderer. And I just want to go up to him and I just want to rip his throat open, I just want to fuckin' grab him right there and pummel him for no reason. Why should I give a shit if a guy's got a clear head? I should say 'ah salut', good for you.'" Jesus -- Tony's got issues, but Melfi doesn't seem to be listening. "Let's get back to smashing my face," she says with a snotty sneer. Miss Parker chuckles, but shares Tony's exasperation. Tony slides down in his chair and releases an AARGH! noise. "No, I think it all ties in!" she screeches desperately. Tony cuts to the chase: "All right, sometimes I resent you making me a victim, that's all." He starts blathering on about the kind of strong silent type of men he admires, like Gary Cooper. I like to take them out for a nice meal, have a little too much to drink, and thennever mind. He didn't say that. I'm just tired of this scene and want it to end -- the whole happy-wanderer theme is annoying. I don't enjoy envisioning Tony in lederhosen. He goes on to whine and complain and confess about how all Americans whine and complain and confess. He calls them pussies. I loathe that term. It's right up there with that c-word that means the same thing. "And now I'm one of them. A patient," he goes on, saying "patient" in a fake girly whiny way. Somehow Melfi finds it pertinent to express the thought, "Your parents made it impossible for you to experience joy," at that moment. Tony's incredulous, so Melfi backs herself up and continues, "You said yourself you're not the Happy Wanderer." "Well, I'm more like one of them assholes than the fucking jerkoffs and douchebags I see leaving this office," Tony replies, and Melfi's body language sing-songs na-nanny-boo-boo at him. Progress? I think not.
Low-stakes card game. Richie, Artie, Davey, some white-haired grandpa dude, and a fat guy are all wearing the latest fashions from the polyester striped-shirt store at the Paramus Mall. Artie has a cigar sticking out of his mouth and looks like Popeye as he wins a hand and gives thanks to Santa Maria. "More like Santa Claus," Richie snaps. Artie tosses a chip to a player and quips, "Make sure you spend it in my restaurant, you prick." Clever. Fat dude at the table says, "One chip? Va'Napola, you can't even buy McDonald's with that." Artie leaves the game, because if he doesn't cash out, Charmaine will "have his balls on the menu tomorrow." Yuck. There's way too much talk about Artie's balls and Charmaine's involvement with them. Horizontally challenged dude's name is Vito, by the way. I find this out because Davey is in the process of begging Richie to lend him more money so he can continue playing, and he claims that Vito will stay in the game. Vito agrees: "Where do I gotta be? Let's up the ante." Richie reminds Davey that he owes him $7,000 already. Davey gets cocky and says, "Is that all? I'll make that back from Vito in a hour." Let's just take a wild stab at fortune-telling and guess that Davey does exactly the opposite and loses it all. Gamblers Anonymous, anyone? Richie falls for it, however, and gives the chooch another dime. Not ten cents, mind you. A dime is probably $1,000. ["I think it's more like $10,000." -- Sars]
School auditorium. Probably the most atrociously painted room I've ever seen. The walls are covered with scary geometric shapes in a seventies primary-color palette. Eric and Meadow sing some soggy pukey song from Miss Saigon. Eric is gazing at Meadow, back to the audience, as she sings facing the audience. Weird. Is he hot for her and she's oblivious or something? Maybe John C. Hensley has a big zit. Meanwhile, Meadow's nasal voice grates on me. They sound fine for high-schoolers, though. But Unnaturally Blonde Teacher, with a lame treble-clef pin on her jacket, grimaces and tells them they have their work cut out for them. Bitch. Meadow slumps off. Unnaturally Blonde Teacher calls out some Nordic giant of a girl named Gdren, who starts singing in German with her teeth gritted. Blech. High-school talent shows are so cheesy. Unnaturally Blonde Teacher goes over to Meadow while Gdren is singing, which I thought was rude, and says it's "really sounding pretty good" and she "knows Meadow is disappointed." Meadow, looking like a tan Joan Crawford with painted moonbeam-shaped eyebrows so larger than life that they dance off her face and start their own HBO original series, starts sniveling that she wanted to do a solo. Unnaturally Blonde Teacher starts sniveling about how she wanted to give everyone a shot at solos, and it's their last chance for cabaret since they're seniors. Miss Meadow will not be guilt-tripped. "Miss Gaetano, I was a sophomore when I did Spider Woman. Now it's important because of college and all." Unnaturally Blonde Miss Gaetano's face is all "Well excuse me, Miss Vanessa Williams." Ah, showbiz.