red fuzzy jesus

THE O.C.: SERIES IN REVIEW

The O.C. ended as it always was: silly drama told with good writing and peppered with hints of brilliance.  Like most fans, I have not been tuning in for the fourth season.  After Marissa died I lost interest.  That might have been a mistake but I’m not the only one.  This week’s Newsweek asks if a hit show has ever fizzled so quickly.  It also offers a funny pop (culture) O.C. quiz – on which I did very well.  After missing most of this final season I did catch the final two episodes and I was surprised by how strong it finished and how affected I am.

There are too many plot lines to summarize.  In brief, the end to the season saw an earthquake hit Newport risking the lives of everyone, especially Ryan.  The final episode then jumped ahead six months to show the birth of Kirsten’s baby girl, the parting of Seth and Summer, the reunion of Ryan and Taylor (who have been dating – odd) and the rebirth of Julie, aka Poopernickel to me, always.  As the episode concludes it shows 4 or 5 years into the future where Julie has earned a college degree instead of depending on rich men to keep her afloat and Seth and Summer get married. 

It was sweet.  And it was surprisingly sad.  The Cohen’s looked for a new home after earthquake damage rendered their mansion unlivable.  And they end up buying their first home where Seth was born.  It was cheesy and campy how they got their old house back – which included some irritating gay stereotypes played up by the old house’s current owners – but it still managed to be moving. 

I really have never been big on teeny melodramas but there was something special about the O.C.  It was emotionally manipulative, yes, but it was also weirdly cognitive.  In the next to last episode Seth gives blood to save Ryan from his earthquake injuries.  After Ryan jokes that he’s craving comics and indie rock Seth makes a curious quip.  He comments that if they could turn this into a body swap comedy they could squeeze two more years out of it.  It fits perfectly into the dialogue but is a very clever self-reference.

On the final episode Summer comments on The Valley entering its fifth season.  (The O.C. was cut off in the middle of its fourth.)  She rolls her eyes and complains, “Those teen drama’s go on forever.”  Again, a more obvious self reference.  The O.C. was always full of these.   I really think it was the most Brechtian thing on television.  The winks to the audience that commented on the show while avoiding direct addresses or breaking the fourth wall are hard to pull off but the O.C. did it well.  It was ridiculous often – how cliché is a natural disaster? – but it was always self aware to the point of simultaneous mockery.  I loved it.

It always held a special place for me.  I began watching the O.C. my first semester of grad school.  After a few years of corporate, “professional” mental monotony I found the rigors of my program quite challenging.  Often I would spend all day in the library leaving my eyes crossed and my brain swollen.  A classmate suggested the O.C. as an enjoyable distraction.  I watched it once and I was hooked. 

Some of the drama on the show mirrored conflict in my own life in a far less painful, cheeky way.  And I actually developed feelings for the characters.  The last moments of the series featured obligatory flashbacks and I was legitimately saddened in spite of my best attempts to stave off emotional investment.  I used to miss the fun I had in college.  Now I’m coming to the realization that other chapters have closed and I miss things about my immediate post-college life.  I find myself pathetically nostalgic so, once again, the O.C.’s timing is perfect.

I’m going to miss the series.  Luckily in the age of DVDs I can re-submerge myself in fictional farce.  Still I wish Sandy Superdad Cohen were here to give me some choice words of wisdom to aid me in my grieving.  But, in the real world I have no such mentor.  The best I can do is look to the future and anticipate further sadness at the end of the Sopranos.   

Californiaaaaa, there you go. 

THE O.C. - SEASON IN REVIEW

I used to write a weekly review of the O.C. Then two things happened. First, I taught a class Thursday nights making it incredibly difficult to catch the show. I relied too often on illegal downloads. Second, I ran out of things to say about the characters. Though the drama kept churning in new forms, the characters pretty much stayed the same. There are only so many times you can say, "Julie is a whore, Summer is dumb, and Ryan has serious anger control issues." But the season finale provided a totally novel description for one of the characters. Marissa is dead!

Mischa Barton wants to do movies so she needs to leave the show. But, even though she just graduated high school and there’s a convenient explanation that she went away to college – or sailing with dad – the series decided to kill her. Of course Ryan is at fault. That kid can’t stay out of trouble. Of course the violence boils down to the type of lovers quarrel only a primetime soap can promulgate. But this episode was less drama and more just serious.

Catching up with the residents of Orange County didn’t take long. Poopernickel has married Summer’s rich father. She’s still a whore. Sandy is very forgiving of his son’s pyrotechnics. He’s still the unbelievable superdad. And Marissa is still making a mess of every relationship to which she’s a party. But things are a changing in Newport. Now that some are leaving for college and one is dead, it seems like there are going to be a lot of new characters and a whole new dynamic.

Marissa’s less attractive little sister is going to ‘rule arbor high school.’ What does that even mean? I’ve seen that convention in endless teenie movies and TV shows. What do they mean when they say a little snot will rule a high school? Will she not be subjected to discipline or make the best grades? Nooooo. So it has to have something to do with social interaction. Maybe ‘ruling’ means she’s popular because she puts out and has money. Maybe she gets to decide who is invited to which parties and stuff. Whatever. Rule on. High school really is so important in the grand scheme of things.

And poor messed up Ryan. He killed the only girl that really loved him in the new car from his screwed up estranged mom. What’s he up to now in terms of years of therapy. Bee bop boo bop bee bee bop … ding! 124 years! Ryan will need over a century of psychoanalysis to cope with his pitiful life so far. And he’s only 18. Let’s just hope he gets someone better than Dr. Melphi. She asks a lot of nice questions but usually says nothing. And her patients never really progress.

I’m not so sure I’ll tune in next year. The show is going to change so much. 90210 managed to stay on the air for 7 more years after Brenda-the-bitch "went to France" and never ever came home, not once, not even for Christmas every year. What a bitch! I may keep watching the O.C. if they take it in a really new direction. I want to see Zombie Marissa terrorizing the town. Now that would rule arbor high school.

THE O.C. WEEK IN REVIEW 11.10.05

Unlike last week when I was caught unprepared by a new O.C., this week I was ready.  I preempted the t.v. with a warning and made my roommate and friends stop playing xbox to watch it with me.  Oh who am I kidding?  I only forced them to watch the O.C. with me so I wouldn’t have to spend another Thursday night alone.  My prisoners.  They looked like they wanted to be there about as much as Taylor’s mom.  Oh god I need to untuck my shirt.  I so don’t have the ass for low rise. 

Dan, “She just needs to be fucked… hard!”

Dan?  Yep, the most memorable line of the evening came not from the t.v. but from the Viking sitting beside me on the couch.  And boy, what an astute observation.  Taylor is both really lonely and super uptight.  You kind of assume she puts in a tampon regardless of the time of the month.  A hot beef injection might just be the treatment she needs.  Valiant Seth, sympathizing with her loneliness and dorkdom, took pity on poor Taylor Trash and came to her rescue against the full shoe assault by the cool kids.  And like many a lonely girl, she mistook pity for sincere interest and started making her move.  Ah, the pity fuck.  Is it worth losing Summer over, Cohen? 

Betrayal was the obvious theme of the night.  Whether assumed, projected, or caught dry humping on Chili’s bed, it’s getting hard to be faithful in Newport.  Marissa has found a kindred friend in Johnny.  And why not?  Getting almost beach raped and seeing your gangbanged dad sail away is exactly like beating your drunk father half to death with a bat.  It’s almost like they’re twins!  No seriously, they look like they weigh exactly the same and could both fit into Marissa’s Chanel.  (…who’s jealous)

Marissa definitely has a type.  She just loves men with anger control issues.  If there’s no chance her boyfriend will violently attack at any moment with minimal provocation then she’s not interested.  When Seth told Ryan not to punch Summer, it was funny because it was possible -  and Summer.  When Johnny told Marissa about beating his father half to death in a blind rage, you could just see her little legs quiver.   When Ryan shows signs of anxiety about Johnny’s interest in Marissa you can smell the fisticuffs coming.  But don’t be so sure Hulk beats Batboy.  Trust me, the skinny one is always more psychotic.   

Surfer waif Johnny is no match for surfer Iceman and his buds.  His mind’s writing checks his body can’t cash.  What was he thinking going after Iceman at the campfire without his trusty bat?  I mean, you know that guy’s a jerk because he did the international I’m-a-tool teeth click.  And you know My Little Pony is going to need to mount someone when she’s in heat.  She knew she was headed for the romance glue factory anyway.  So Johnny shouldn’t have been surprised when he found them together.  Thank god Ryan was there to pull him off, and then punch Iceman in the mouth.  I mean, what good is having Ryan around if not to punch people.  That’s pretty much what he’s good at. 

Speaking of sticking to your skill set, Poopernickel has stumbled upon someone who’s just as good at digging it as she.  And the pot called the kettle a ho.  What was Charlotte doing with all those credit cards in different names?  Maybe she was helping the needy.  Bitch please.  I love how neither want to do charity to actually help people.  One’s scammin for her reputation back and one’s just scammin for cash.  No moral highground in sight.  I don’t know if these two ladies are mortal enemies or some sort of cash&cock-starved dynamic duo.  I also don’t know how Poopernickel’s going to provide for her family.  But I have a hunch it involves a pizza and a camcorder. 

So Taylor’s all over Seth because he’s a fellow nerd.  Marissa is digging on Johnny because his rage reminds her of Ryan.  And Ryan seems oddly interested in protecting Johnny because he looks like the boy version of Marissa.  I don’t know what’s going to happen but it will probably end with no eye contact at cardio bar.  As for me, I’ve got to head back to the library to recharge my own depleted nerd powers.  I mean, come on, Hulk, Batboy, Iceman, Dynamic Duo… I’m one superhero characterization away from being Seth. 

THE O.C. WEEK IN REVIEW 11.3.05

This past week there’s was a new episode of the O.C.  What what wha…?  Having tuned out of this passing phase craze over baseball, I could have sworn the kids of Newport wouldn’t be back to school till next week.  The news that I had somehow missed an episode hit me like Summer opening Taylor’s hotel door.  Luckily my roommate is a brilliant internet pirate, uh “fisherman,” and was able to net me my long lost fix.  Oh, O.C., I missed you.  I don’t know where my future is, but I know Thursdays at 8p.m., it’s with you. 

Summer: “I don’t get the reference.”

Honey, you don’t have to.   I was told by a good friend and fellow O.C. aficionado that this episode was so-so at best.  Perhaps someone is having a little champagne too soon after rehab because I loved it.  It was like a mini-movie complete with the contrived countdown to sundown and romantic catch line at the end.   For the past few weeks, as I wandered through my pop-confectionary desert, I wondered where they might be going with some of these storylines.  But the writers bobbed and weaved so well that, like Sandy says almost every episode, “I have to say I’m impressed.”

First, I wondered where they were taking my Poopernickel.  Surely they wouldn’t leave her by that hotel pool.  Then I wondered where that train wreck Charlotte was going – thinking after last time her character would be introduced to the white trash lesbian in O.C. heaven.  But instead of fading, these two plotlines converge in a rather nice condo, which comes pre-equipped with glasses somehow!  Again, I don’t know what the Borg is up to and I don’t care.  It’s going to be fun to watch.  Boy am I excited about prelude to bitchwars on the horizon.  My what a tangled web we weave, Charlotte.  And how long have I been waiting to say that?

Marissa, I’ve seen your dad and while he is quite handsome, Ryan is not like him.  If I were directing a soap opera and I wanted to solicit wounded-little-boy from my actor I would show him a tape of Ryan at the college fair.  That widdle pup wants to be a big fisherman when he grows up… tomorrow.   What the hell dude?  You have a mega rich family and attorney pseudo Dad that will do anything for you.  Oh and by the way you’re banging Marissa Cooper now but you would rather be on a boat for weeks with sailors.  And I thought the O.C. had given up on all the subtle gay innuendo. 

Why does Summer turn into a black stereotype when angry?  Taylor gets under her skin and suddenly she’s neck popping and throwin’ back the crunk juice.  Oh no she di’int.  It’s as if she doesn’t know how to be confrontational so she imitates some pissed black woman she’s seen on TV.  Giiiiiiiiirl, mmmm mmm, I am going to use my notes on The Valley to get your ass. 

I like how the plot to catch Taylor was unnecessarily complicated.  These kids don’t have camera phones?  They had to arrange the dirty hotel room and purchase a sidekick and whatever else.  It was good but a little scarily calculated.  My favorite point that I had to watch over several times was the insult portion at the hotel door. “Taylor Trash!”  “Skank!”  Hilarious! Taylor did show up all painted for an afternoon of discipline which brought to mind a few more things Summer could have thrown at her – if only they weren’t so network television inappropriate. 

Then there’s that frowny skeleton who is using her chardonnay for cooking these days.  That’s progress.  Now Sandy needs to sit her down and teach her how to eat the food.  That’s good, dear, open your mouth.  Just a bite.  Chew chew swallow... all gone!  She seems to stick to a strict diet of oxygen and aloof detachment.  Great for the waistline, bad for the cognition.  No longer receiving nourishment from a bottle, it’s time Kirsten progressed to something solid. 

It’s been bugging me for a couple weeks but I finally figured out where I know surfer Johnny from.  The actor playing him is Ryan Donowho (yes, he spells his name like that), the only good thing in the film A Home at the End of the World.  I get that he’s supposed to be this sexy surfer dude but I question the wisdom of such prolonged shots of him in the clingy wetsuit.  Marissa has a more boyish body than this guy.  He looks like those Anna Nicole weight loss ads with a stoner’s head photoshopped in.  In between the doobies he needs to fit in some protein. 

And poor Dean Douchebag.  He had to take on The Brows and he lost pitifully.  But he got some sweet statutory poon out of it so all-and-all a zero sum really. 

I feel so guilty for missing my O.C.  Or maybe that’s just residual dirty feelings from the fleabag hotels, the tawdry Dean affair, and the smell of Ryan coming off that boat.  But if all that leaves me needing a shower then I’ll just have to be unclean because I love me some spoiled rich mud wrestling.  Though I might sometimes be lost on land or at sea, I’m not just like your dad.  I know when it’s time to come home. 

THE O.C. WEEK IN REVIEW 9.22.05

I missed this past week’s O.C. It was difficult but I forfeited my Thursday night ritual to have dinner with a professor from a certain university who agreed to write me a letter of recommendation to attend that university. Sure, watching the O.C. would have been a lot more fun but I like to think I had a Sandy Cohen on my shoulder telling me to stop thinking about Marissa Cooper. I needed to start thinking about college. I needed to think about my future! Christ,Sandy, I’m doing my best here. Get off my fucking back!

Summer, “Erghhhhh, I’m such an idiot.”

Yes, Summer, we’ve covered that many times. But your redeeming quality is your goodheartedness which got the best of you – along with one perky social chair. I was an idiot right with her as I thought Taylor was taking a turn for the better. I thought they were setting her up to be Summer’s new best friend at school and was just as surprised to discover it was all an elaborate plot. What I wasn’t surprised by was the suck face with the Douchebag of Discipline. I saw that coming two weeks ago. Of course, it never occurred to Summer what was going on even after she spotted Taylor kissing DD in his office. He had to come into the picture for her to get it. Oooooooh. Now all Summer needs is some photographic evidence. This is emerging as my new favorite plotline.

And we’ve got some new characters too – my favorite of which is surfer Johnny. Watch out, Ryan, you’ve got competition. This guy seems really sensitive too but smiles more than once an episode and shows no signs of anger management issues. Things look solid between Ryan and Coop now but give it a couple weeks. Public school kids are like dogs, whatever that means. If Marissa did ever want to get with that she needn’t fear competition from his horse-mouthed girlfriend. Whoa, Nelly! Button up that overbite. You’re scaring the nice children who pay to ride you. Damn, girl, I went to public school too and I remember the kids could still afford braces.

Is it just me or do Ryan and Marissa seem to have a lot of friction that could easily be lubed with some quality communication? Ah, the missed signals of youth. She forgot to mention they just showed up unannounced to take her to the dance. Ryan is too emotionally inarticulate to admit he’s threatened by, well, everything. The O.C. knows this, ergo: Seth, the resident self commentator. What’s there to discuss? Call her up. Apologize. Talk about it. It’s not rocket science. Well done, nerdy-one-kanobi.

We have new details about the Borg’s mission and I for one am appalled. What, what what… she goes into rehab on purpose to harvest vulnerable rich alchies? Dude, seriously, what the fuck! If she were a lesbian, like I originally thunk, Sarah McGlaughlin would sing You’re Building a Mystery while Ki Ki and B picnicked at Lillith Fair. Instead she’s straddling some dude on a gross hotel bed. Ew! She is just too many levels of wrong for me to process. Ho bag needs to give her act a nap because it is tired. Set phasers to bitchslap.

On a related note, when Sandy told Kirsten “this family doesn’t need your money” it was supposed to be reassuring but it struck me as sort of mean. Just clarifying your utility around her, botox face.

And finally, okay, O.C., you win. I’ve put up a good fight but I’m throwing in the towel.  Finally, I feel bad for Julie Poopernickel. It took some doing. I didn’t feel bad when Cal did a half-gainer or Jimmy got smacked around. I had a lot of fun last year with her porno past. But, seeing her scamper around, looking for crumbs while being too embarrassed to ask for help got to me. I couldn’t stand to see her in that hotel room, falling apart, weeping, clutching her haute couture. I have no idea what Pooper’s gonna do. But by God, she’s got two hands, two tits, and three good holes. The chips are down, baby, suck it up. She needs to work that magic and do what she does best. After all, she’s a survivor – of the AIDS epidemic.

I was kind of sorry Ryan and Marissa’s song didn’t end up being, Little Ditty About Jack and Diane. But that song about being young forever was good enough as was the montage of sweetness it accompanied. As always, I pine for more. Marissa seems to be doing ok in public school. If that weird girl threatens her in the hall again she’s got My Little Pony to trot up beside her and defend her honor. If Marissa gives up on Ryan he can always be home schooled, nudge nudge. The Douchebag of Discipline is down for the count and the Borg is disassembling. And, though it looks bad, I have faith Pooper is going to come out swinging. I’m pulling for you, Poopsie.

Alas, I’ve been hearing troubling rumors about a breech in my supply of braincandy. Supposedly my O.C. will be impeded by this thing called “base ball,” whatever that is. Don’t think you can get away from me, O.C. I’m a fucking quagmire. I’ll be back on my feet in no time. And I’ll be wearing very expensive shoes when I do.

Go yanks!

 

 

 

THE O.C. WEEK IN REVIEW 9.22.05

So much happened in one hour of the O.C. this week that it was hard to keep tally.  I lurched back and forth between sorrow and hilarity so violently that I barely maintained control of my alimentary canal.  That violence warning just before the opening wasn’t due to Jimmy’s smack down.  It was a caution of gut punches to viewers.  Luckily I came prepared for such an emotional pummeling wearing my best protection against odor and leaks.  Thanks Oops I Crapped My Pants!   

Sandy, “If things get messy, we’ll clean them up… together.”

Yeah, about those messes, Sandy, you’re embracing one.  Mops and buckets were the theme of this week’s O.C. (and the series more generally) as piles or muck were tidily put in the pale while new sheets were soiled.  There were so many heart poking moments that I too could have used a tissue and touch up by the end of the hour, that is, if my blood were two degrees warmer and I were susceptible to such manipulation. 

Who’s my widdle messy boy?  Jimmy, your face!  Honey, exfoliate that shit.  How much money did he owe because that didn’t seem like a million dollar beating to me.  He looked well pounded no doubt but I really thought Pooper was going to be a super-double-widow after that shot of Jimmy the floater.  Those gangsta’s didn’t do a very good job of killing Jimmy but it parallels the clumsy way the O.C. disposes of characters.  Other than Cal, no one dies they just disappear via flimsy justification.  Jimmy’s not dead he just needs to sail to Hawaii.  Why?  Because gangsta’s can’t swim.  I’m not sure why that solves his troubles but it ends his 4 episode reappearance.  Change my pic-ture.  Smack my bitch up.  Next plotline.   

Speaking of well pounded, “We’ve never done this before.”  Whatever, Dad!  (We being the operative)  I find it hard to believe that after all they’ve been through and all those nights in the lifeguard stand Ryan and Marissa are just now getting around to intercourse.  They have hobbies, I guess.  Never mind the creepiness of having your sort-of-brother and gal pal build you a fuckhut on the beach, is your game so lame that you can’t make use of your own poolhouse?  Come on, stud, you’re stretching my suspension of disbelief.  Of course the beach is the perfect setting for such a moment.  Nothing says I love you like recreating the setting where you almost got raped.  Or maybe Ryan was just being practical.  If that really was Marissa’s first time then the sand and saltwater make’s cleanup a snap. 

Last week’s episode featured the harsh wisdom of Old Testament legalism toward beachrape victims while this week taught us the ancient ying-yang view of the wholly balanced universe.  On one hand, Marissa got rootered up the Tiki hut by Ryan while on the other hand she yet again loses a father figure and finds out she’s broke.   Hardly equivalent?   Bitch please, look at those delts.  And Marissa’s not the only one getting a rash.  Something tells me the Dean of Discipline is thoroughly pussywhipped by one Taylor Townsend.  Could we be less indicative of that line crossing?  He may seem like an asshole but he’s really just irritable after Taylor doesn’t give him a turn biting the bit. 

Pooper’s getting her share of smacking too.  I started to feel a tinge of sorrow when Poopernickel (almost Poppernickel-Pooper!) clutched Marissa as they wondered allowed, “What are we going to do?”  Well, for starters you could get a real job, earn your own money, develop a skill set, some security and financial independence.  Oh wait, that’s what you thought you were accomplishing with whoredom.  Sadly, the well you almost poisoned is coincidentally similar to your role in marriage – a deep, dry hole.

That will reading was like an old episode of Let’s Make a Deal where everyone is expecting a new exer-cycle but what’s really behind door number one is just a can of soup.  Only, instead of Campbell’s it’s an envelope that triggers psychosis in the fragile mind of the alcoholic.   Did someone just provoke everyone’s favorite unstable Mrs. or say Pee-Wee’s secret word of the day because, wooo woooooooo, the crazy went off the charts in an instant.  If making it through one night in a sleazy hotel staring at a bottle of vodka is all Kirsten needs to reassure her she’s ready to be a mom, wife, and run a bequeathed and troubled company then who am I to question Sandy’s relief.  But, uh oh, what’s that grey cube in the sky? 

I’m standing here on the shore of Newport Beach in my yellow rain jacket to report on the coming destruction of hurricane Borg.  I’m sorry to say there’s no new information in Borg-watch but several confirmations of the previously affirmed.  The Borg is up to no good.  She lies.  She drinks.  And now we know she’s broke.  She also has Kirsten’s family photo which suggests maybe a higher degree of inhumanity or a strong desire to steal Kirsten’s life.  She’s blowing this way.  Take cover.  I’m still pulling for an attempted muff dive but we’ll just have to tune in and monitor the sapphic currents when she makes landfall.   Is resistance futile, Ki Ki?  Is it?

So, needless to say, I got my wish.  Last week I pined for less tension and more muck and the O.C. came out slinging.  Families are wrecked.  Fortunes are lost.  And assimilationist lip-jobbed floozies are on the march.  But the kids in Newport may face their greatest horror yet, PUBLIC SCHOOL!  Ahhhhhh!  Run for your lives!  The previews heavily featured a big boned girl making repeated finger-gun gestures at Marissa.  This could get ugly – middleclass ugly.  Hang on my little Newpsies, the fluids have just begun to flow.    

THE O.C. WEEK IN REVIEW 9.15.05

There’s a lot new grilling in the O.C. as the kickoff carnival of conflict began in earnest this week.  I interrupt your waffles and cynicism to say I vow to make this the best year ever!  Yayyyyyy!  Ok, but I need all of your attention if we’re going to get it done.  I’ve worked all summer compiling lists and making a notebook of god-knows-what while you were out, let’s see… getting drunk, exploring your sexuality and shooting people.  Do you have any idea what it’s like to do all the work while the O.C. gets all the credit?  DO YOU!?   

Seth “My stomach is too Jewish for this ride”

How right you are, my little nerd.  This past week on the O.C. was like the slow ratcheting up the incline of a roller coaster hinting at the sudden drop and twisty slide to follow.  It’s enough to make even the most gentile of tummies turn. 

So, Ryan and Marissa will be going to another school.  I know this is supposed to be the big dramatic turn of events but I really don’t see what all the fuss is about.  Summer, et al, can still hang out like always they just won’t attend classes at the same place.  The future is not destroyed because their parents can afford to drop the kids in some other pool.  I do love how Newport’s private education institutions adhere to strict ancient Talmudic law when dealing with women though.  If a woman is attempted to be raped and fights back (insert event chain) the end result is some severe punishment for the female.  Next time spread those legs and shut your mouth, bitch, because life if much harder for Trudy McPrudies. 

There is a silver lining.  With all the tuition the Cohens will save from Ryan’s expulsion they can now invest in some counseling and anger management classes for the poor boy.  I mean it’s good they’ve outfitted him with designer wifebeaters and all but he’s obviously dealing with some possession and control issues.  His efforts to defend Marissa’s honor really haven’t done her a lot of good.  He should leave the crime fighting to the Brows.  The 40-year-old virgin had it comin’ with his creepy repression and collar-and-cardigan fashion sense but Ryan’s default reflex to all problems – make fist! Punch! ARGHHHHHH! – isn’t serving him well when the gummy berry juice wares off. 

There’s a lot of high school extra-curricular drama going on too and it’s a tad overwrought if you ask me.  The interpersonal wars over the carnival harkens back to 90210 when Andrea was always after the big scoop like she was trading secrets with Deepthroat.  You’re a high school journalist for Christ’s sake.  Likewise, social committee chair is not the same thing as what Koffi Anan does, ok?  On that note, Taylor, sweetie, we’re concerned.  Pull back on the Ritalin.  We all know you work very hard but, um, yeah… 

Writers always set up good guys and bad guys.  We’re supposed to applaud when the black hat wearing cowboys get run out of town by the white hats.  But the O.C. made it like Summer was the new sheriff in town and I had trouble cheering for her.  I know it was supposed to be a big ‘eat it bitch!’ moment when Summer commands the carnie folk but I’m not so sure justice was served.  Taylor is a disturbed little droid, no doubt, but she kind of had a point with the payoff for hard work stuff.   I guess I’m supposed to forget Summer is incompetent and generally worthless and cheer Taylor’s coup d'é•tastes like shit, ha ha moment but I just wasn’t going for it.       

But even more sizzlin’ is whatever the hell is happening to Kirsten.  Seriously, what on Earth is the Borg doing?   Last week I called her that to make fun of the character that made Jerry Ryan famous before the nasty sex scandal with her husband but, no joke, she really is acting Borg-like.  She’s up to no good with the crying and throwing back the jack (who keeps a flask in their robe anyway?) but her plotline is like a David Lynch movie right now.  The ghost of alcoholic futures scares Ki Ki into a cabin retreat where she’s manipulated by a drinking, sobbing, insecure idiot that doesn’t want her to leave.  Does the Borg have a Homosexual Agenda?  If that’s the case, Sandy might not be so pissy if he knew what he could get to watch. 

And finally, poor Jimbo.  I’m sorry, were there no Italians available at the casting agency because they’re being a little inconsistent with their typecasting here.  Pooper is supposed be this grand conniving manipulator but she’s strangely incapable of recognizing herself in Jimmy’s actions.  (How Aristotelian)  Nobody’s hotter than Kanye West right now so I don’t understand why they didn’t play his new song when Jimmy proposed.  That could have been both sassy and ironic.  That song doesn’t really make sense on Mtv any-damn-way.  Why does Kanye just repeat the word ‘broke’?  That doesn’t rhyme with ‘digger’, silly.  [Man, I will bend over backwards to make back-to-back racially insensitive references.  Badabing!]      

So, I think this episode successfully brought us to the top of the roller coaster for this season and next week I’m really hoping for a little less suggestive tension and a little more plunges and loopdy-loops.  There better be a reward for all this contrived anticipation.  I want to be grabbing my chest like Caleb and gasping for air.  On that note, a final thought:  Air quality is sooo important.  We breathe it!    

THE O.C. WEEK IN REVIEW 9.8.05

After roughly three long months my sore, blue, teen-drama balls have been emptied and my lust for angst has been satisfied.  Like a bullet from Coops’ magnum shredding through Trey’s back my tension has been released and my anticipation relieved all over the TV screen.  People in this town talk and they don’t care about the details.  All they care about is that I shot someone.   

Pooper*  “Does this look like something the mother of an innocent girl might wear?”

Well no, Poopsie, but I’ve seen clap bags with better shoes.  What was she wearing on the way to smother Trey?  Hey, I’m a gold-digger but I keeps it real in my pink Candies™.  Poor Pooper has dropped a couple notches in my favorite character rankings after the threat induced testimony by Trey.  Not that I care if Trey is deprived of oxygen but Ryan deserves better.  With the near cocktail slaying of Caleb and the not quite smothering of Trey, Pooper has the best of intentions with her murderous proclivities… she just needs to work on her follow through.    

Of course, for every villainous grieving widow there’s a heroic jack-of-all-trades attorney to fix it all.  And poor Jimmy is caught in the crosshairs.  If the previews are suggesting what I think they are then Jimmy is planning a third degree mining of Caleb’s wealth by pulling a ring on Pooper.  It is sad Sandy had to confront him that way after going to so much trouble to be in denial about Jimmy’s feelings for his wife and bagging little sis as an obvious consolation prize. 

Speaking of the Mrs., first Kirsten fights like a hellcat to stay out of rehab.  Now she doesn’t want to come home.  The hot Borg has assimilated her.  I’m not sure what the Borg’s intentions are but something’s cooking in those half human eyes.  She stared at Sandy like she wanted to yoink Ki Ki’s man but then she stared at poor Kirsten like she wanted to bed her – or eat her.  If Borg’s endeavors are in fact sexual in nature she better activate the heat ray because that is one frigid alcoholic.  Daddy isn’t the only thing she’s not good enough for. 

Of course Kirsten seems oblivious to the happenings outside rehab and it’s just as well.  There’s nothing a recovering alcoholic needs more than shootings and arrest warrants.  She’d be rummaging for the vanilla extract in no time if she knew what psuedo-son and co. were up to.  Of course, I was craving a little cough syrup myself while enduring some of the background music they used to punctuate the emotional moments.  Was that Enya?  Come on, O.C., you’re better than that.  At least Kirsten can take comfort knowing Haley didn’t sleep with that creepy English teacher.   

Sail away, sail away, sail away.  You’re right, Summer.  The week before your senior year in high school is your last chance to have fun.  Four years of college is just a big snooze fest for academically mediocre and critically wealthy pretty girls like yourself.  My eyes did stop rolling enough to think the beach scene was kind of sweet. And Seth just yanked at my heart strings with that sea-men comment.  Ahhh, that boy. 

And poor Ryan.  He’s been through so much and then he’s back in the blue jumpsuit again.  It’s comforting to know that all his troubles seem to end with he and Marissa back at the designated hump fortress.  I wonder if the lifeguard that works in that tower ever shows up the next morning and exclaims, “ew, again?!”  At least Trey is on a good riddance bus out of town.  He didn’t escape from the hospital. Pulling tubes out of the uninsured is part and parcel of the American healthcare system.   

In many ways, this much anticipated first episode of the third season was more like the last episode of the second.  Storylines and cliffhangers from last year were tied up nicely as new twists and turns were hinted at with the type of head bashing subtlety only an adolescent Fox soap could deliver.  The Borg has its tractor beam targeted on Kirsten and Jimmy wants to beat Pooper at her own game.  It’s looking saucy in SoCo.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a dream sequence to get to.  Ryan needs a hug. 

THE OC: WEEK IN REVIEW SEASON FINALE

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of the second season of the O.C.  In honor of this occasion I thought it would be appropriate to take a moment to say some kind words.   Who am I kidding?   All this year I’ve tried to be a different person.  Not any more.  I’m going to settle this with Season 2 once and for all. 

Seth “Mom has a drinking problem.  The intervention is this afternoon.  Plan accordingly.” 

What frat is Kirsten a member of because, damn, she knows how to throw down.  I think she won the case race.  Sandy tried to slow her but she was FINE!  Summer tried to feed her but she was FINE!  Maybe Summer noticed Kirsten’s sloppy drunkenness or maybe she was frightened by Kirsten’s taught, ever-thinning face.  Lately Kirsten’s cheekbones have been in a deathmatch with Sandy’s brows for prominence.  I was impressed by her ability to hold her marathon chain of vodka straight up.  A lesser woman would have vomited and pissed her little black dress.  But she kept everything inside her.  And forget those awesome sunglasses, Kirsten had the funeral style hands down.  Nothing accessorizes emotional fragility like a half drunk Absolut bottle.   That bitch is FINE! 

And how did Seth not pick up on Mom’s drinking problem?  That’s not Listerine and Chanel No. 5, sweetie.  Maybe it’s because people who like their Chardonnay tend to be a little less uptight.  Or maybe because she’s the most unmotherly mom on television.  Rosanne was more nurturing.  The scene between Sandy and Seth was touching though.  The intervention – not so much.  “Don’t even, I let you into this house.”  Ouch, way harsh to poor Ryan.  Is there some clinic they can lock her in to work through her spoiled bitchery because I think we need to reexamine our priorities.  I’m just sayin…

Oh shit, who’s running Newport’s hottest regional magazine?  Julie’s fired, Carter fled, Kirsten’s detained and Cal’s dead.  And all I can think about at a time like this is Ryan in the pool.  We’re doomed. 

The Cooper clan is making a comeback!  Minus, mysteriously, one daughter.   I guess they keep Caitlin in the attic these days.  You know how it is…  ugly sister, pretty town, yada yada.  I’m sad because now that she’s back with Jimmy I can’t call Julie ‘Poopernickel’ anymore.  I feel like a part of me just died.  I know there are some good “Jimmy” in “Pooper” lines out there somewhere and I just need to look toward the horizon to move on.   My girl wasted no time in finding a new buyer though.  When faced with sudden failure in your business model it is best to fall back on previously loyal clientele.

Also of note is what wasn’t in the season finale; no Reed, no graphic novel and no Zack to be found.  I wonder with the fighting if they’re just going to let that die or will the subplot resurrect in Season 3?  Water polo players are so not nice that they don’t even go to funerals.  Are we to assume post-prom that Seth won?  Looks that way.   Then may I also assume poor lonely Zack was once again at home crying and masturbating to his Wilson Phillips CDs because I really like that image.  Hold on for one more day, Zack.  Hold on for one more day. 

And finally, there’s the end.  Newsweek promised a cliff hanger and we all knew from the previews it had something to do with Trey and a gun.  But who would have thought it would be Marissa bustin’ a cap.  Come on, who would have thought scrawny Trey could pin and strangle beefy little brother.  Ryan’s monotone reaction to the beachrape revelations was disappointing.  I was hoping for more green skin and torn clothing.  Throwing a car would have been nice.  Trey was bad news since he first got out of Tiger Beat jail which had to lead to something.  I just wonder how they’re going to handle this next season.  Is Trey dead?  Will Marissa be charged with murder?  And will Caitlin be unshackled to stand trial substitute style?  A boy can dream. 

I won’t even try to make predictions.  Season 3 may start with Kirsten coming home and making amends but that would move the plot months after Marissa’s manslaughtering and I’d prefer they pick up right where they left off.  The good news is, Captain Oats and Princess Sparkle are finally together and Kirsten is facing some well-deserved routine cavity searches.  The only dilemma left in Newport isn’t what Marissa should do after channeling Lady of Rage but whether or not to review reruns.    

THE OC: WEEK IN REVIEW 5.12.05

If last week was depressing, this week was equal parts funny and sweet.  Can you believe all that happened; the well orchestrated prom rescues, the return of Ryan’s sperm reciprocal, and the damn 3.8 score the French judge gave Cal’s dive.  Let’s get to it.  You’re not going to seduce me out of this review.    

Cal, “Julie… Ju… Julie… Juh… Juh… Ju… J… J…”   

Kirsten’s got a problem.  She may like her chardonnay but she’s not going to die alone.  That’s a great thing to scream at your dad just before he dies, Ki Ki.  And if she keeps putting Sandy through hell, she may get both.  I hate to admit how much I love the aw-fuck moment when Kirsten learns Dad’s dead and just grabs the vodka.  Chug it straight, bitch.  There has to be an end to Sandy’s patience and his creepy comment about feeling like her dad may be a precursor.  Kudos to the writers though.  Not only did Kirsten get in the die alone shot before he did, sort of, die alone.  But Sandy got to say he felt like her dad seconds before finding out Daddy kicked it.  Priceless.   If he already feels like her father then why the hell doesn’t Sandy just backhand her?  It would be more efficient. 

Ooooooooh, Poopernickel.  Call before you come I need to shave my cho-cha.  Still my favorite character and now a hell of a lot richer.  Looks like Cal won’t be timely filing those papers cuz there aint no clerk’s office in hell, suckah.  I’m glad she decided not to kill him, or sedate him, or give him a mega-viagra-bone and fuck him till next Monday.  Whatever she was planning on doing with those pills it was the wrong way.  And she really did love him which makes her less of a whore but really, do you care?  That bitch is set.  Unless of course Kirsten challenges her for Daddy’s will.  She could spend a lot on her best friends Jim and Jack with Pa’s money.  But from the looks of the season finale, she will be much too busy spiraling out of control.   

Summer has really leveled up with me.  She squeezed out the choice lines last night.  Her best was whether to take ‘nerd boy’ or ‘ass clown’ to the prom.  Ass clown?!  That will be repeated.  I love the way she played the two of them.  I loved her resolve.  She just seemed a lot cooler last night.  (I just joined Anakin on the dark side and I didn’t get to bang Abudallah.)  Her face was obvious when Zack got out of the limo because she really did want Seth.  But I can’t support Seth’s preoccupation with her at the expense of meeting with that Star Wars guy – what’s his name again?  I’ve only worshiped his movies since I was a fetus.   I’m a big nerd and my middle name is Seth so I’ve always identified with that lovable geek but I wish I could talk some sense into that curly head.  And yet, I’m a sap.  I liked the way Seth rescued her.  I’m not too much of a sap because I also liked the way some guy at the prom yelled ‘Tool!’ after Seth’s jester speech.   I wonder if later that night Zack sat on his bed and realized Seth got to meet G.L. AND ravage Summer while he found himself all alone once again.  Dammit!  How does this keep happening?  It used to be a moral choice but now, god, it’s a cruel joke.      

Who that is?  My baby momma!  I’m glad that coincidence came to convince Ryan not to believe Trey.  She was like a baby-making angel that appeared providentially.  But why does Trey still get a pass?  Pardon me while I grandstand but I have to criticize the OC for sending the message to young girls that if a guy tries to rape you it’s best to keep it to yourself.  Wouldn’t want to make things messy.  Even if no one believed her I would prefer Marissa have the dignity of disclosure.  I did feel sorry for her.  Her nasty manipulative ways didn’t earn her a near beachrape and the near loss of her boyfriend.  And no matter how cheesy and contrived it was, I enjoyed Ryan’s rescue too.  He was just in time.  I just wished they’d shown more of that damn baby.  If Jr. really is looking more and more like his daddy everyday then work that BILF people. 

Looking ahead, have we finally seen the last of the Bushtwin and Big Brother?  Seriously dude, just go away.  You cause nothing but trouble and you can’t be trusted and you’re not that cute.  Well, ok, two out of three.  The season finale promises visits from old friends, a total Ki Ki meltdown, and some really sweet sunglasses.  Once again, Ryan is back with Marissa, Seth is back with Summer, Kirsten’s life is rough and Pooper’s life is set.  Things are as I want them in Orange County.  But what goes up…

Zack, just sell it on Ebay honey. 

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