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|:HOME:|:RANTS:|:DECEMBER 22, 1999:
"Nine Yolks Whipped Lightly"
DECEMBER 22, 1999

Christmas time is here. . . happiness and cheer....

And what could provide more cheer than a night of 90210? Wait, wait, before you start making a list, it was just a rhetorical question to set things up. I mean, I feel the same way. I could’ve been baking gingerbread or going to this kick-ass store in Union Square we discovered last weekend to pick up some import cheese or getting the tied-for-baking tenderloin that The Husband-Type Man and I need to make our Christmas dinner of beef Wellington or hanging more lights around the Purple Living Room or making oatmeal cookies (you do notice that most of my holiday activities revolve around food?) or even sending out the Christmas cards that I never seem to find the time to send otherwise. But no. I sat on my ass in front of the telly for an hour, occasionally missing chunks of dialogue or scene changes as my mind wandered from this less-than-engrossing show. Luckily I taped it and watched it again this morning, so, while no more scintillating than the first viewing, at least I filled in the missing spaces in my notes. So today, instead of going to Union Square or stringing more lights, I’m here, having secured the loan of THTM ’s laptop computer for the day, fulfilling my 90210ly duties. And, yeah, like I’d actually willingly leave the Dwanollah WHY List (well, it’s more like a WHY rant now, so…)- the Dwanollah WHY Rant to anyone else, being the self-indulgent control freak that I am. Haw!

And to add to the cheer, while I was watching the show, I heard a weird noise come from the kitchen. Like a crash. I rushed in, thinking something had fallen, but saw nothing amiss. It musta come from outside, I concluded. I later found out how wrong I was…. But, ah, I’m jumping ahead.

When they were showing the "last week" stuff, something stood out to me this time around: the way Donna told Gina they were sisters. "Your mom slept with my dad," said Donna, all flatliner style. "YOUR mom slept [active] with my dad [passive]." Like White Trash Bobbi did it as, I don’t know, a career choice and Doc Martin had nothing to do with anything...? I couldn’t tell if this was insignificant, or if this was actually… setting up the whole Donna Sees Daddy as Perfect But That’s All Changing Now dealie. B(i)ased on past experience, though, I’m not inclined to give the writers the benefit of the doubt.

So. Speaking of Gina and Donna and the Martins and all that, we open at the oh-so-Bev-Hills fake Tudor Casa Martin, where Gina, dressed in some truly hiddy baggies, is being dragged by Donna, dressed in some I-don’t-know-what kind of anti-fashion statement, into the Lion’s Den. And Felice is kicking ass left and right with her shallow bad self, offering cookies and fruit baskets and being proper and prepared to do the right thing. And then we get the weird exchange between Donna and her parents about what to do with Ol’ Dirty Bastard Gina, while Felice and John waffle around about the best way to do things and Donna huffs and snipes and insists that, if she and Gina attend this Christmas party (Why would the Martins be having a party on Christmas Day for over a hundred people, some of whom "we hardly know"? Yeah, yeah, I know, business associates or whatever, but, really, why would over a hundred people not have something better to do on Christmas Day like, um, be at home with their own families?), that Gina be "introduced… as your daughter" while Gina sits there with her sweater cuffs pulled over her fingers and looks vulnerable and pathetic.

One question: why hasn’t Donna ­ or anyone ­ stopped to ASK GINA WHAT SHE WANTS?! I mean, of COURSE Gina would want nothing more than to be welcomed into the rich Martin family as a "daughter" at a big social shin-dig instead of spending one-on-one time with the Doc or being able to ask him why he made the choices he did or whatever. And WHY hadn’t she even called her own mother to confront her about the situation?! "Mom, how could you keep this from me? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you at least hit the Martins up for way more money?"

And why would any parent complain that their child would want to spend her birthday at home instead of with her boyfriend?!

Does Felice know about Noah and Donna unclimactically shaking up yet? Why does she uncharacteristically have nothing to say on the matter?

But back to the Martins’ fake Tudor house. So Donna gets all huffy at her folks and makes sarcastic comments and rushes to console Her Sister that she suddenly feels all this emotional responsibility for or something only to say "I can’t go against my dad and neither should you"? Why, Donna? What does that mean? If you look beyond the obvious Donna Martin Is Painfully Learning That Her Parents Aren’t Perfect and Is Becoming An Independent Woman bullshit storyline, that’s just a really odd thing to say, a really nonsensical line of reasoning.

And, as I’m writing out my Rants for the show’s intro, there’s a huge banging on my front door, and the building superintendent (a 400-pound palooka who, while nice, hasn’t evolved much) and maintenance man need to come in because a pipe is broken somewhere and their first-floor apartment is flooded. And so they prowl around the kitchen and bathroom before rushing back down to the basement. Okay. I go back to the WHY Rant.

So. And then we go to something that prompted my most pressing question of the show: WHAT was that horrific Christmas Music they were playing for the opening credits and WHY couldn’t they come up with something better?!? I’ll even volunteer my kick-ass Christmas music collection; the Squirrel Nut Zippers’ "Sleigh Ride" would’ve been groovy… or the "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Mambo"… or John Denver and the Muppets…. For me and THTM, questing for Very Important Christmas CDs has become intrinsic to the holiday season. I’ve scored major bonus points for finding the CD that includes the "Razzleberry Dressing" song from Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol, and I will be forever indebted to The Husband-Type Man for opening my world to the Presidents of the USA’s "Christmas Piglet." Last year, he bought me the Star Wars Christmas soundtrack, including "R2D2 We Wish You a Merry Christmas" and featuring an 18-year-old named "John Bongiovi." [In fact, the computer has been monopolized in the last few weeks because we’ve been making our Second Annual Christmas CDs. I sent copies of mine, this year titled "Merry Chixmas!", to my fellow psycho Durannie friends. (They also got Spice Girls Karaoke too, but that’s another story.) Last year’s CD, "The Big Load in Santa’s Sack," was made ‘specially for my brother.] Y'all, I own four different versions of "Christmas Wrapping"! I don’t know quite how this Christmas Music fetish of mine started. Maybe with "Holiday Hoedown" in 7th Grade Choir…. I can still sing the damn thing, too. But I’ll spare you the pain. Or maybe it was in rebellion against this horrid 8-track that Gram still plays every year, with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I swear, it features Snow White on Helium. Sometimes you just have to combat that stuff with a loud rendition of "Merry Fucking Christmas" by Mr. Mackey, don’t you? That’s not to say it’s ALL Irreverent Christmas Music with me. I’ve got a number of genres: Lounge Christmas and Swingin’ Christmas and Victorian Christmas and A Capella Christmas (Anonymous 4 is rad) and Croonin’ Christmas… and it’s just not Christmas without the Nat and Bing and Andy and Frank that Gram used to play. And I’ve got all sorts of stuff from those Claymation specials from when we all were kids (right now, Burl Ives is doing "Silver and Gold"), like my very favorites "Heat Miser/Snow Miser" (Snow Miser freakin' ROCKS!) and the aforementioned Charlie Brown song and, "You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," which just came on and kicks so much butt! Actually, I’m feeling kinda inspired…I think I’m going to do a little something in its honor. Hold tight.

So the show officially opens at a Christmas tree lot. I, naturally, am looking all over the place for Ray Pruit. And we get a scowling Janet again perpetuating the myths that [married] couples who fight and are grumpy with each other are really cute and funny. And Janet "You’re a Mean One, Mrs. Grinch" Sosna-Sanders-Whatever also does that stupid calling Steve "Daddy" again, and that gets really old really quick, Janet. Not to mention it gives me the creeps. Like the old friends of Gram and Grampa who called each other "Mommy" and "Daddy." Eyew. And Skeevy Stevie "I Wouldn’t Touch You With A 39-and-1/2 Foot Pole" Sanders is being all stereotypical Yuppie Hubby with his top-of-the-line little camcorder (because I’m sure he’s rakin’ in the dough at the Beat, despite hospital bills for a preemie), filming Dylan "You’re A Bad Banana With A Greasy Black Peel" McKay and Davy "Stink, Stank, Stunk" Silver who, in a rather odd and homoerotic-laden scene, decide to "throw [Steve] a bone" by giving each other a big hug before they start talking purposefully about… watching Stone Cold Steve Austin on Pay Per View. Since when does Mr. Sensitive Surfer and Balzac-reading and play-writing Dylan McKay watch wrestling? I know, I know, it’s a macho guy thing. Ha ha ha. Dudes, even my beer-drinking, truck-driving, gun-toting, Fu Manchu moustache-wearing mechanic little brother doesn’t watch wrestling. Why? Why the macho stereotypes of boys and girls? Why not watch a movie or the game or play switchies? A couple of THTM ’s pals actually watch "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," even, and it hasn’t turned them into pantywaists. (Re: pantywaist… I just read that in some old paperback and’ve been looking for an opportunity to use it. Stunning, isn’t it?) Why does it all have to be over-the-top Testosterone?

Why is there no mention of Davy celebrating/having celebrated Hanukah?

And why did Dylan pick the shoddiest tree on the lot for the Center? Especially compared to the full, lush one that Janet drops on her parents.

And like Janet would really run into her estranged folks at the same Christmas tree lot when, later in the show, Janet says they live "45 minutes across town" (I’ve never heard anyone say "across town" in LA… "over the hill(s)," "in the valley," "downtown," "out in Canyon Country," "inland," or, more likely, the name of the place, i.e. Redondo or Pasadena or Century City or Glendale or Calabasas.) and there’re Christmas tree lots on practically every corner. Estranged or no, WHY HADN’T ANYONE INFORMED JANET’S PARENTS THAT THE BABY HAD BEEN BORN WEEKS AGO?!?

And Janet, you don’t need to ask them for "twine" to "bundle" your tree. Every lot I ever went to in LA had these mesh-machines that suck your tree through and pop it out on the other side encased in netting for easier transportation.

And while I’m in the midst of writing about the tree lots and the Center and all that, there’s another knock at the door. The super, the maintenance guy and two plumbers come in, check out the kitchen and bathroom, and rush off to the basement. All righty.

But, speaking of the Center…. On 11/17, I wrote in my WHY post:

… face it, I doubt we’re going to see Big Gay Andrew after this, even if Dylan continues his Charitable Community Service work. (Please, please, writers, prove me wrong. I double-dog dare you!)

I am very happy to say, they did. Thank you. I actually cheered "Andrew! All right!" when they showed him. And then I realized that was pretty dumb, considering I was sitting by myself in front of the telly watching 90210, not, like, figure skating championships or a rerun of Mommie Dearest or anything. Hence, in honor of his being featured in another episode ­ and not as a Helpless Other, but rather, as a shit-kickin’ person who puts that snot-nosed Dylan McKay in his place ­ I am formally dropping the "Big Gay Andrew" moniker, used to signify a merely a one-dimensional Gay Character on the show, and will now only refer to him as Andrew.

Shout-out count for this show: 1

And then the plumbers come back and inform me that they need to break into the wall behind the toilet because that’s where the problem is. Okay, sayeth I. I’m (fairly) amiable. Do what you need to. So they need me to clear some stuff out of the bathroom, which makes the formerly neat dining area cluttered again, and then they start tearing the toilet out of the wall and I go back to the computer….

Anyway, this scene at the Center turns into an Aren’t Those Hillsters Wonderful pagent when Kelly "You’re As Charming As An Eel" Taylor comes, bearing frankincense and myrrh in the form of presents for the poor kiddies. How did she get them all? "It was Donna’s idea" she chirps. Of COURSE it was Donna’s idea! She gave "a 10% discount if customers donated a toy."


As the former Community Relations Coordinator at the oft-mentioned bookstore, I did a hell of a lot of book drives. One of our Christmas drives lasted over a month. There was a large box in the front of the store where customers couldn’t miss it, signs everywhere, and information in the store newsletter. Every customer, when checking out, was asked by the cashiers if they would care to donate a new book or bring in used books for the library we were building at a center for abused children. And, while there were about a half-dozen people who brought in stuff (much of it inappropriate… one woman wanted to get rid of a bunch of paperback romances. And when I was packing the boxes, I found donations of college textbooks, self-help books, even torn-up magazines!), most people couldn’t be bothered. We tried all sorts of incentives: discounts, entries in drawings, even just appealing to The Christmas Spirit. But most people were too busy to be bothered, even just to add the cost of a $3.00 paperback book right there at the register to their total! Several co-workers and I ended up buying a slew of books so that we’d have a decent collection of books for these kids. Therefore I find it hard to believe that, in one week, a tiny specialty boutique like Donna’s would attract so much response for a measly 10% discount off her silk-screened t-shirts. Like the customers would leave the store, go buy a toy, bring it back, and THEN shop? Ha!

The Nasty Middle Class White Man bitching about the "druggies" was so lame and trite I can’t be bothered to come up with anything interesting to say about him. Except that he looked like Jim "Your Brain is Full of Spiders, You Have Garlic In Your Soul" Walsh’s dumpy older brother.

But, hey, we get to meet RJ, the po’ black chile who has the unfortunate role of looking up to/"worshiping" Dylan McKay. Good God.

And Kelly? Why did you deny it when Dylan accused you of "proposing" to him last week? I mean, you even told Donna that you "kinda proposed" to him. And why would Dylan call it "proposing" anyway? As laden with stereotyping about what a Terrifying Word "propose" is, along with "Marriage" and "Wedding" and "Love," that 90210 and Society in General both are, I can’t imagine that Mr. Bad Ass would throw it around that nonchalantly.

And now the plumbers have informed me that they need to also break into the wall in the kitchen. Shit. So I have to clear out two more cupboards with stacks of china, four tons of cleaning products, and pretty much destroy the kitchen and its formerly neat and clean counters by piling the contents of two cupboards and one countertop all over the place. More banging ensues. Plumber Number One (Pete), discovers the problem. The people remodeling the 7th floor apartment dropped something… a chunk of brick, most likely, and it fell all the way down to behind our pipes and, as a result, "the pipe is all bented." Everything back there needs to be replaced. Plumber Number Two (Steve) borrows the phone to page his boss. I try to stay out of the way. And not freak out.

On to the oh-so-bustling "No [yes, that’s on purpose] Wear This!" where, instead of helping customers, Donna "A Seasick Crocodile" Martin is having a Romantic Interlude with Noah "A Nasty Wasty Skunk" Hunter, who wants to whisk her off to Paris for Christmas.

Is Noah rich or poor? He’s lost, or supposedly lost, all his money so many different times that I can’t keep it straight. Are we to assume that the oh-so-bustling PPAD is rakin’ in that much?

Why hasn’t Davy been at work DJing lately?

Anyway, so Noah appears at the store to present Donna with tickets to Paris. ("I had such a good time when I was there with Brinda!" Oh, wait….) And someone needs to explain days and times and time-changes to Noah, because he wants to have "Christmas in Paris" and says they’ll have Christmas dinner "with the gang" and then fly out that night. Which, if my knowledge of travel to Europe and all that serves, will put them in Paris sometime on the evening of the 26th at the earliest and more likely on the morning of the 27th. Unless Noah’s booked a Concorde flight. Which leaves from NYC and not LA anyway.

So then we get the tedious "fighting" between Noah and Donna where, in a bald acknowledgement of Gustave’s last post, Donna berates Noah for telling her about "all those Harvard-Yale games" and "the music scene" [Does Harvard have a music "scene"?].

Shout-out count: 2

And then Noah mumbles some nonsense about "I just didn’t tell you how much" he was hurting about his girlfriend’s death or lying or some nonsense. And then Donna… Donna delivers her cutting coup de grace about why she is so angry and upset with Noah: "You let your parents buy you out of trouble!"

Um, Donna? Why aren’t you then royally pissed off at your good buddy Steve Sanders, huh?

And, after Noah stomps out, then we get the bizarre conversation between Donna and Kelly where Donna wants to know about how many drinks it takes to be "over the legal limit" and Kelly chirps to "ask LawyerBoy" because he "knows all that stuff." Guys? I would hope that most people would be SOMEWHAT aware that 2-3 normal-sized drinks can put you over the legal limit, depending on your body. For fuck’s sake! If you drink and/or drive, you need to know this as much as you need to know that red means stop or that alcohol should not be consumed if you’re pregnant. And then Donna gets the Nonsequiter of the Night Award for replying to Kelly’s suggestion to ask LawyerBoy about the legal limit that "It’s just first my parents I just wonder if anyone tells the truth" blah blah blah.

Don’t worry, Donna. I will be more than happy to be truthful with you if No-Means-Noah won't! You are a spineless wussy. You couldn’t have a healthy relationship if your life depended on it, which, incidentally, I’d say it does. You need to learn that "compromise" doesn’t mean compromising your SELF. You need to learn that being loving and kind does not equal being weak and subservient. You need to spend more than five minutes without a boyfriend. Your pies are too big. You dress goofy. Your lipstick line annoys me. So do your fake eyelashes. Quit whimpering. If you get back together with Davy, you’re the biggest moron in the whole wide world.

And speaking of Davy, why would he be all groveling to Gina "A Three-Decker Toadstool and Sauerkraut Sandwich With Arsenic Sauce" Kincaid about whether or not they’re "still friends"? It doesn’t seem as though they were even friends to begin with! Was that whole "call him Dad or Uncle John" "Just call him John" deal in reference to how all Hillsters call their parents by their first names? Cute how it was concluded with Davy stammering a hello to "Mrs. Martin." I’m tempted to call this a shout-out, because I’ve made specific mention of Davy calling Felice "Felice" before, but I won’t, because I can’t find the reference in my scads of 90210 crap on the computer.

And, at this point, FOUR MORE PLUMBERS have descended on our tiny apartment. A huge hole has been torn in the Green Bathroom, the toilet is in the tub, my home is full of palookas ­ nice palookas, but palookas ­ and now they’re tearing open walls in the kitchen the day before Christmas Eve. Oh, God.

Why did we get yet another It’s Christmas Time and Felice "You Have Termites In Your Smile" Martin is Yet Again Pulling Out Her Checkbook to Pay Someone Off scene?

And now Donna’s going to have to share her Non Sequitur of the Night Award after a truly incomprehensible Whatever Dialogue between Janet and Stevie. Stevie suggests Janet call her mom for an eggnog recipe and they’re all sad about the fact that Janet’s parents don’t accept the fact that she married a White Boy or got knocked up out of wedlock or whatever their issue is. And Janet responds by… by saying "I think about the planet now, making it clean and safe" and wanting her daughter to "have a good family and parents who love each other and don’t you think they [that is, her parents] want the same?" And then she immediately picks up the phone and invites Mrs. "Your Heart Is Full of Unwashed Socks" Sosna over for dinner tomorrow and I’m left trying to make sense of what this scene was supposed to do, mean, reflect, seem like or even if it was supposed to make sense in the FIRST place!

I count TWO MORE PLUMBERS! This is like the twelve days of Christmas, except I’m getting Twelve Plumbers Plumbing. Steve, Pete, Joe and company are crawling under cabinets and through walls. A great cacophony of metal-on-metal sounds ring out like Christmas Bells from inside my bathroom wall. Oh dear. I huddle over the computer.

And then we get to see Dylan decorating the shoddy Christmas tree with all the kids at the center. And obviously this is the first time he’s ever done this sort of thing, because there’re paper chains and ornaments on the tree, but no one’s actually put the lights up on it yet, which everyone knows is the first thing you should do. Der. And then we get another Typical Plot Twist with Jim Walsh’s Older Brother dumping a pile of trash, including a product-placed KFC bucket, at Dylie’s feet. And then Dylan gets all pissed and punches the guy. And then I die laughing at the fake-o reaction shots of all the kids covering their mouths and looking shocked. And THEN I howl some more as Dylan tries to turn it all around by saying "Okay, that was wrong," and then hissing "jerk!" And I’m torn between trying to say something nice about Dylan attempting to take responsibility for his actions, but I’m laughing too much at this point.

By the time I calm down, I get to see a commercial for some new TV show called Malcolm in the Middle which is being billed as a "live-action Simpsons." Which is kinda dumb, since wasn't The Simpsons were an "animated Roseanne"...?

And then we get the most Majorly Inconsistent Scene in the show, with Gina crawling to the fake Tudor Martin house where I’m expecting John "You’re A Crooked Jockey and You Drive [sic] A Crooked Hoss [sic]" Martin to be shocked when Gina announces that Felice tried to buy her off or something. But, to my surprise, not only is Gina not about to try to blackmail anyone, but Doc Martin even KNOWS about Felice and her checkbook paying (pun) Gina a visit and comments that Felice "just went about asking you the wrong way"! O.Kay. And then he wants to know what Gina "wants" from him, but Gina has nothing to say except a whole bunch of babble inconsistent with previous shows about how her father was "just a bedtime story" and she only has one picture of him (uh, we saw her looking at a WHOLE BUNCH OF PICTURES just last week!) and she barely remembers him at all anyway. Yeah. And then, in stiff, stilted conversation that is either meant to evoke the uncomfortable relationship between Gina and the Doc or to show the Doc as a total doofus, Dr. Martin actually… says… "Donna says you’re living in a fancy hotel." Okay, why wouldn’t he and Felice already know where their niece is living? And why wouldn’t he say the name of the hotel, if it’s so fancy? If someone is staying at a "fancy hotel" they usually refer to it by name, as in "I’ll be at the Plaza" or "She stayed at the Beverly Hills Hotel last time she came to visit." And why is (ostensibly) Dylan still footing Gina’s hotel bill? Why is Gina still letting him if she’s so prickly and independent?

And just when I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to be faced with Matt "Your Heart’s a Dead Tomato Splotched With Moldy Purple Spots" LawyerBoy except on a cursory level, I get stuck watching some lame scene with a Generic Client who, despite needing to sue because some theme restaurant (and we know how well those theme restaurants are doing right now anyway) has stolen his idea, his "intellectual property," And, even though any lawsuit in regards to "intellectual property" that I’ve ever heard of is usually filed by someone who is not exactly rolling in the bucks and wants some of what they feel they’ve been gypped out of, LawyerBoy’s Generic Client has a FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLAR CHECK to hand over as a RETAINER FOR LAWYERBOY’S SERVICES whilst uttering the Hillster Rallying Cry: "I wanna take a stand!" Why would anyone use the word "intellectual" with ANY relation to ANYTHING on 90210 anyway? Really.

And then we get a touching, loving interlude with LawyerBoy and Kelly that reminds me of Wing Chun’s Hissyfit on sexism in holiday advertising. LawyerBoy wants Kelly to tell him if she could have "one gift, what would it be?" Kelly demurs, saying "I don’t want you to overspend"… ?!? And Kelly’s "sticking to their agreement" to not exchange gifts in lieu of bringing stuff for Magg- uh, Maddy by… only buying LawyerBoy "little things." There’s a difference, Kelly, hon, between "not exchanging gifts" and buying "little things." I remember how shitty I felt the first Christmas I spent with DumbAss, my h.s.b.f., when his mother had assured me that I didn’t need to get them anything and I wasn’t coming over to "exchange gifts," but rather to share dinner. So I brought, like, a plate of homemade cookies. And when I got there, there’s my h.s.b.f.’s mother, aka Felice Martin the First (but not nearly as rich) with the living room piled with gifts from Nordie’s for everyone and she bought me two complete outfits and makeup kits and jewelry and all this Stuph…. I mean, I was, like, 18 years old and trying to pay for school. I couldn’t "exchange gifts" on that level (although I maxed out a new credit card a few years later trying to do just that… took me years to pay it off, too, stupid me.), and to have all these expensive (and impersonal ­ whoops! Did I say that?) gifts presented to me in an almost patronizing way (because she didn’t like me at the time) made me feel worse than Bastard-Trash Gina in her grubby Gap wardrobe would’ve felt at the Martin’s fancy Christmas party.

But thank God, next we get to see Andrew in a position of Power and Authority, basically revealing to Dylan what an immature, selfish asshole he [that is, Dylan] is, and how his actions have repercussions because now Andrew’s had to cancel all of the recovery group meetings. And, in a nice "fuck off" moment, Andrew also refuses to let Dylan placate/buy him by buying his to-go food at the Peach Pit. Andrew rocks my world! ("That gay guy taught you to be a man, Dylan"?) And then Kelly comes in to order to-go food [Isn’t there ANY OTHER RESTAURANT, guys?] and Dylan does twisty-head at her and announces that he "paid the guy off!" and he’s "not a role model!" Which basically means that Dylan is Noah and Steve combined. And THEN Dylan lays into Kelly by snarling "With you it’s NEVER enough." And if any guy said that to me, in that tone of voice, well, that’d finish me as far as any kind of relationship would go. But not Kelly, who just gives him her look of Moral Superiority and mentally lists the four hundred and seventy-three thousand ways she might be able to save Dylan McKay.

Why doesn’t anyone actually EAT at the Peach Pit anymore? Why wasn’t Nat there?

Instead of getting to-go food, Janet’s obviously cooked up a wonder-meal in the Casa Walsh kitchen where, in another lurvely reflection of marital/relationship sexism, Stevie is trying to engage his father-in-law by watching the big game while Janet slaves in the kitchen. But Mr. "You’re As Cuddly As A Cactus" Sosna ain’t havin’ it, and is actually man enough to bring in the dirty dishes. And, after a mention of the temporary editor at the Beat (shout-out count: 3), there’s a weird altercation in which Stevie is all pissy because Janet’s parents want to coo over Maddy instead of spend time with him. I mean, Stevie? Why would it be so unusual for grandparents to want to focus all of their attention on their brand new grandchild instead of watch a freakin’ ball game with you, you big, selfish lout?! Why wouldn’t you figure that they’d come to see the baby, not you? Why are you acting like such a jerk? I mean, isn’t it enough that, after months of estrangement, they actually CAME OVER, even if they were still stand-offish? And then Janet’s parents announce that they have to leave, and Janet wails that "it’s only seven!" and I wonder what kind of meal it was that they could arrive, see Maddy, be served a meal, eat it, and bail, all in a half-hour.

So. It was obvious, yeah, but I was all happy that, down at the Center, lil’ RJ ripped Dylan a new asshole by wanting to know "how come YOU get to" hit people when they do you wrong? High five, RJ! But, at the time, I was too busy rolling on the floor in hysterics laughing at all the pseudo-shocked open-mouthed kids, like the one girl behind RJ who basically walked from one side of the group of kids to the other with her mouth hanging open. I woulda loved to hear the stage directions for THAT scene!

Back at Dysfunction Junction, otherwise known as the Spineless Women Compound, Donna and Noah have this really odd fight. I mean, Donna? WHY do you care so much about whether or not Noah was over the "legal limit" or what his blood alcohol level was? In one of the lamest lines of the show, Donna actually beseeches Noah to tell her because "I need to know if you think you were drunk"!!! How effing stupid ARE you, Donna?! Who cares if he "thought" he was drunk? What more do you need to convince you, you dumb wet sock? Isn’t it enough for you that he killed his girlfriend? And his parents paid off the sheriff? And Noah lied about everything? If you were so stuck on the legality of things, why didn’t you notice that Noah said he was 18… which, in our neck o' the woods, means that he was drinking illegally anyway. God damn! Either the asshole is irresponsible and dishonest or he’s not! The number of drinks isn’t going to make a difference! I mean, DONNA, WHAT POSSIBLE RESOLUTIONS could this situation have if it all depends on how many drinks Noah had or what the Breathalyzer test said?!?

So after I’ve stomped and huffed around in response to this Total Moronicacy, there’s Donna with her early morning sleep-deprived voice informing her parents that "Noah and I had a fight." To which Felice, bless her sweet heart, says "I didn’t ask!" And, after all the previous stupidity, why do we have to endure YET ANOTHER Poor Donna Realizes Her Parents Aren’t Perfect scene, rife with Felice Logic (which was hysterically funny in itself), until Donna demands of her father all run-on-sentencey in regards to Gina to "Fix it that’s what dads do" …I mean, why would anyone other than, like, a FOUR-YEAR-OLD say something like this?! And once again, WHY hasn’t anyone considered that maybe Gina doesn’t want or need Doc Martin to "fix" anything?!? Maybe it might be a little uncomfortable and overly familiar to presume that Doc Martin should "fix" things for G- Oh, how silly of me… of COURSE Gina NEEDS to be part of the Martin family! She NEEDS a dad! Everyone does! Good grief. But I won’t launch into any more Me and My Dumb Dad stories. Not before Christmas.

And, speaking of Not Before Christmas, the plumbers are still plumbing. And Steve just informed me that they don’t patch up the walls after they’ve torn them apart… that’s the super’s job. Shit. And he doesn’t know if they have any plans to do that any time soon, because their apartment’s flooded. Fuck. And, while I’m understanding of that and all, I’m pretty cranky about the fact that, the day after getting this place all ready for our cozy Christmas at home, it’s in complete and total shambles. And I still need to go to the stores to get stuff for our dinner. And finish my applications. And get stocking stuffers. Shit, shit, shit. Not to mention the fact that we’ve got a couple friends from LA visiting on the 27th. "And this is the bathroom. Look, you can see through to the kitchen! Don’t mind the stray bugs that might come crawling out!"

And then Dylan tries to convince RJ that hitting is wrong and his big argument is that he "felt a little embarrassed" afterwards. I mean, why emphasize the "embarrassed" factor instead of the fact that no one’ll play with RJ and that violence is wrong? Whatever, Dylan. And then… Dylan TAKES RJ OVER TO JUSTIN’S HOUSE TO APOLOGIZE. Um, hello? Legally, Dylan could be in MAJOR FUCKING TROUBLE if he was to take a minor child ANYWHERE off the Center’s premises without parental consent!

And Donna, spine in another galaxy at this point, goes to the PPAD where Noah is reading the supposed Beat and comments that the "quality’s gone down." May I ask how much quality it possessed in the first place? And speaking of the quality going down on something that had no quality in the first place, I endure a pathetic scene of Donna whispering intently to Noah in which she basically rationalizes everything she’s ever felt both about him AND her parents in one fell swoop. And if her father "seems so weak to me know" how can she stomach even being in the same ROOM as Noah? Or ANY of the Hillsters? But it’s not over yet as Donna, like an overcooked jellyfish, prostrates herself before Noah’s cleat-wearing feet by announcing "I love you and sometimes I wish I didn’t but I do SO MUCH!" Which, in DonnaSpeak, translates as "Here’s a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of Southern Comfort and a bottle of Stoli and the keys to your car. Why don’t you take me for a nice drive around the Hollywood Hills on a dark stormy night?" "Can’t we just forget this?" whispers Donna. Try as I might, sweet thing, I CAN’T!

If I had a daughter as dumb as Donna when it comes to relationships, I’d lock her in a tower.

Ah, Davy? Dylan? WHY do you have to CONSTANTLY talk with your mouths full in order to illustrate how ManlyMan you are while watching WWF and talking about relationships? It’s as though 90210 views relationships as, like, an acidic substance when boys talk about it, and they see Ultra Testosterony Behavior as a neutralizing agent, or boys talking about relationships is like a spark in a dry forest and Ultra Testosterony Behavior is water or something, because they always go about twenty steps overboard in making the Elephant’s Fathers seem Really Macho during these vulnerable confession-type moments. Which explains why Dylan made the Beer Version of the Hard Liquor Grimace about five different times in the course of three sentences.

And… Mr. and Mrs. Sosna? WHY on EARTH would you be witness to Stevie’s staking out your house, random super-emotional blather about reading a parenting book, then major aggro-nasty accusations, and not CALL THE POLICE? Or at least be freaked out? I thought maybe we were going to get a Steve Goes Psycho plot twist. Say…there’s an idea.

Why were Janet’s folks at… MASS? Are they Catholic also? If they are, shouldn’t this mebbe have played a major part in the whole disowning-their-daughter thing?

And I absolutely must mention the most over shout-out of the show. Stevie, snarling at his IN-LAWS (like, way to win their love, asshole!), declares that in the book he’s reading about parenting CONSISTANCY IS HUGE!

Shout-out count: 4

My front door buzzer rings again, and three plumbers troop up with several new copper pipes. Pete assures me things’ll be "all set" in "no time." I commence to writing. There’s more metal-on-metal sounds in the bathroom. It’s been five hours now. My bathroom rug has been appropriated to soak up the overflow. The thought of doing laundry, on top of everything else, is utterly dismaying.

Back at Dysfunction Junction, LawyerBoy’s flinging tinsel left and right, much as Tracy or Claire or someone in the past already has, while Kelly spouts some of the most INANE nonsense about she hasn’t had time to get a tree and that’s "another reason to quit retail"?! Kelly, WELCOME TO LIFE for fuck’s sake!

I hear the sound of a blow-torch coming from the bathroom.

So, at Dysfunction Junction, Kelly wants to open a present early. Why would she, especially after the whole scene with Emma’s watch a few Christmases ago? You’d think that’ve cured her. So LawyerBoy babbles inane nonsense about this is "the gift that represents all you feel about me." *sigh* Then he babbles nonsense about the ring box he holds out, how he "could’ve wrapped it but I wanted to give you time to adjust." Uhhh. Whaaaa? And in the meantime, in a rather glorious shout-out (5), Kelly, all mercenary, is absolutely frothing at the mouth and bugging her eyes out at the sight of this ring and baby-talking "YES!" and cooing and kissing LawyerBoy because KELLY TAYLOR WANTS THAT!

I just heard a bang, and, from several stories up, an "OW!" … And more blow-torching, now from the kitchen.

So the next morning Kelly *doings* into Donna’s room like a kangaroo on a trampoline (Why was Donna again sleeping in full makeup?) to show off her ring, chortling "Guess what I got for Christmas!" with glee. God help her. Or me. Or someone.

Why would LawyerBoy say "We’ll tell everybody at the Walsh House" when there’re no Walshes there anymore? Why do they still sporadically call it the Walsh House? Is it a preserved historical sight or something?

Why didn’t anyone at the "Walsh House" notice that big, honkin’ hunk o’ ice on Kelly’s finger?

Why is Dylan so freaking arrogant as to corner Kelly at a "gang" party WITH HER BOYFRIEND THERE to announce he’s ready to give things a chance?

Why must Plumber Number Two keep snorting and hawking? Uch!

Back at the Walsh House, Donna lurches up to Kelly and, on the pretense that she "has something stuck in her teeth" (*HOWL!*) drags her off to ask her if she’s "sure." And Kelly insists wetly that she’s "happy," overpronouncing her Ps (Shout-out 6) EVEN THOUGH SHE SOMETIMES THINKS DYLAN COULD BE The One (Shout-out 7). I mean, this is AS TRANSPARANT AS GLASS, people! Couldn’t you do better than this?

WHY was Noah wearing that HIDDY turtleneck sweater? Even FELICITY wouldn’t wear that sweater! Why would Donna NOT HAVE STARTED PACKING FOR PARIS IF THEIR FLIGHT SUPPOSEDLY LEAVES THAT NIGHT? And hasn’t anyone explained the nature of Holiday Travel to her before? If they have an international flight, they prolly should’ve been AT THE AIRPORT ALREADY, not to mention packed!

Was Noah crying or drunk? Both? Noah, can you actually "get over" killing your girlfriend? How passive-aggressive was the whole Noah Dumping Donna thing, anyway? I’m surprised he didn’t say "I’m doing this for your own good"!


And WHY were there so many Nail Polish shots?

Where were Kelly and LawyerBoy supposed to be, anyway? Where does LawyerBoy live? If his family is so "crazy" about Christmas, then why didn’t he go see them, or they come see him? Where is his family? WHY IS KELLY STILL GLOATING OVER THAT RING?!

Shout-outs: 8. Number of times I’ve had to get up to let more plumbers in: 8.

Why isn’t there any Holiday Hooplah at the PPAD? No one’s books blind men to sing this year?

Poor Dylan… the "richest man in town" all alone on Christmas…. Snurfle. Poor Noah… alone, but he’s learned from this. Yeah.

More blow-torching from the bathroom….

And WHY did we end with that horrid scene with Gina coming over to throw herself at Donna’s feet because HAVING DONNA FOR A SISTER IS GINA’S HAPPY ENDING?!?!

I feel the urge to borrow that previously mentioned blowtorch.

At least we have a three-week reprieve.

You know, as long as I’m thinking of it, I keep meaning to post my e-mail address, in case anyone wants to send me anything in regards to these WHY Rants. Gustave and I have discussed at length the pathetic necessity for Validation we feel upon posting our stuff. I confess, I’d check every hour or so if I could to see if anyone’s responded. "Uh-oh… it’s been six hours, and no one’s said anything. What if they hate it? What if I’ve offended someone? I know that they really hate me here anyway, and just don’t want to say so." Yes, I’m aware of my own Patheticalness. And also, since someone asked me a while ago about my "method" for doing these WHY Rants…. It goes like this: I watch the show on Wednesday night, armed with a trusty legal pad. I scribble cryptic notes throughout the duration of the show. Promptly at 9:01, my butt’s in front of the computer. By about midnight, I’m done. Well, usually. Lately, with the sharing-of-the-computer routine, I’ve had to write when I can. Yesterday was the first time I actually watched the show twice before commencing writing. And if for some reason I’m unable to post immediately after the show, I have a rule about not reading what others’ve posted yet. (Which leads to another bout of insecurity-laden "what ifs" if I’ve repeated something someone else noticed, too). So, anyway, my point is, if you wanna chew me out for inaccuracy or have a question or whatnot in regards to these Rants, my e-mail is always open.

And so is the bathroom wall. The plumbers are packing up, leaving the whole area behind the toilet… taped over with trash bags. There’s a soggy rug in my tub, and, while they’ve swept up all the plaster, the floors are scuffed and dirty. Guess what we get to do tonight? What fun!

And thus, merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.



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