What is the Again With This podcast, some rich-bitch humor?
The perfectly decent figure under the tarps.
I mean, we wouldn't dress out for a date with Jesse either buuuuuut...
...if we did, "Sergeant Nana's Lonely Hillary Clinton Band" probably isn't where we'd land. Say it with us: cleavage.
What did we expect from a young lady who thinks a blazer is rave-wear.
The baby loves Jim, because Jim IS a giant baby about Dylan (not we aren't front-row here for it, because we are).
If you have not died of old age waiting for Ohhhhhndrea's face to fall all the way, allow us to remind you and the show that nooooooobody cares.
It's nice that somebody thinks this tired shit is funny. (And by "somebody," we mean "the girls," because BAG's laughing could not be more of a fake C-minus.)
Not the best boob angle for Donna.
Very professional, Clare.
Enter Ray.
Enter Ray's deal-with-it work goggles.
Aaaaand enter the defensive blue-collar bRaying.
Editing derp-eye claims another victim.
Of course Ray wears a denim shirt and knit necktie to a rave. (I love that the knit necktie is TV/film shorthand for "guy uncomfortable in dress-up situations.")
Who mixed those drinks for you, Griffin -- Samurai Jack?
'90s weed style: rolled overalls with one strap undone; blunt bob; shower of sparks.
Casual Kelly look approved! Well, except for the over-razored hair, but that probably goes without saying.
Defending-Kelly bray.
Broke-ass-near-reveal bray.
Or maybe he's unimpressed with the unbelted jeans and clonkola Doc Marten knockoffs Val wore to sexy times.
That said, flawless hair (and breasts). Sarah would.
Past-due-ing it.
And here's where Tara would.
Another Pippa. What's next, a bar called "Nigel's"? A Pimm's-cup-themed KEG party? Brandon student-government foe Simon Frobisher-Pym?
The espadrilles in the first act.
Not that we didn't also own tee dresses back then (and that Sarah still doesn't), but for the club? Come on, guys.
Brandon hates fun. We...are kind of with him? The hats on those extras behind him alone. Shut up, raves.
Guess this is a "hiding in plain sight" con? That or he's too hungover to care about subtlety. Or...the writers are.
...Going off in third act.
The cat-butt pucker of unearned self-righteousness.
You can't tell Jim the secret ingredient is honey AND have a button undone, kid. It's too weird.
God, we love Valerie.
We question her taste in stick insects, however. Nice Battlefield Derp blouse, Jones.
