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Previously: Kirsten loved drinking and falling, Ryan flirted with a girl who isn't Marissa (yay!), Marissa remained a character on The O.C. (boo!), Julie got more deeply involved with yet another man so old he's somehow three times his own age, and Sandy proved that you can't spell "Newport Group" without about a hundred of the letter "zzzzzzzzzzzzz."
Bait Shop. The D.J. spins and the nubile teens writhe, but if no viewers are there to see it, did it actually happen? Up on a balcony, Seth and Summer spend some time Statler-and-Waldorf-ing the scene down below, whereRyan and Sadie are doing nothing short of canoodling. Summer? The floor is yours: "He's leaning forward, indicating all focus is on her. See how her palms are facing up? That means she's open to what he's communicating." Summer smiles smugly, tells Seth that the body doesn't lie, and informs us that the source of this information is "Star magazine, 'What Stars' Body Language is Really Saying.'" I do believe I saw that column in last week's issue, on a page facing a column entitled "Eat a Sandwich, Bitch," featuring Rachel Bilson. Stars! They're just like us! Seth leaps in with some quickie plot development intended for whichever slackers think they can get away with recapping this show having not even seen it since this episode, telling us all, "Well, I've talked to the guy, and what Ryan is really saying is he and Sadie are just taking it slow." But Summer is officially not having it, telling Seth that, not only does she not buy that, she is "sounding out a hot new couple alert." Sh. Stop talking like that. Magazines are shaped like magazines because you can shut them when they begin to bore you.
Ryan drags Sadie up the stairs as if he's holding her hand for dear life, and when they reach Seth and Summer, he tells them that he and Sadie are going to head home. Seth offers to go with them, but Ryan tells them to stay there because Star says you're allowed to act shitty and distant to your friends when you're dating someone new. They skulk off, Ryan standing behind Sadie with his arms around her midriff, prompting Seth to tell Summer, "All right. So they're into each other." Summer says that she's happy for them, but Seth reminds us of the evil scourge of doom -- a rank cloud of black death that surrounds the fictional residents of this alternate universe Orange County -- asking, "You don't feel weird about Marissa?" We all feel weird about Marissa. The kind of weird you feel when you've eaten about a dozen deviled eggs left out overnight after a picnic on the surface of the sun. Is that the kind of weird Seth means? Summer responds that she might feel weird about Marissa if she actually saw Marissa, but that she's been staying at something called "the trailer" since the big, big breakup. She had told Summer that she needed some solitude in which to ponder her sad, sad lot in life, to which Seth takes a peek over the balcony and observes, "Or party with two hundred sweaty teens." I know that's what always makes me feel better. Summer looks where Seth has been looking, and there she is. The girl. The dream. Uta Hagen's biggest challenge. There is Marissa, giving some open-mouthed tongue love to oily bohunk Voldemort. That is his name, right? Something with a "V"? Seth sets it up: "So if the body doesn't lie..." and Summer knocks it down: "Then it's saying, 'Ew.'" And, for the first time in the history of print journalism, I agree with Star magazine. And wouldn't that line be a perfect capper for the scene? Well then, leave it to the writers to go and screw it up. Seth watchesVoldemort's hand travel down Marissa's thigh and land squarely on her ass, inspiring Seth to button the scene, "'Ew'? Or 'touch my pooper'?" That really is what he said, right? Because that right there is the "ew"-iest "ew" of all the "ew"s that ever were.