The Again With This podcast that goes with these Visual Aids is on the cutting edge of cyberfinance.
Brandon gets a decent haircut (for him, anyway) but is still Bransplaining Ohhhhhndrea's own grades to her.
Clare also got a decent haircut. Let's hope it's contagious and her boyf catches it! (Spoiler: he won't.)
Brandon tolerates Kelly's search for meaning; Sarah continues not to tolerate the tucked-in-polo-sans-belt narrative.
Dean Whitmore, visibly aging as he's once again obliged to pretend to take Brandon's concerns seriously.
Get your lifts off the coffee table, jackass. You don't live there.
A ne-bray-tor takes umbrage.
How much money would we pay to see Kelly "fix" Brandon's finger by bending it back flush with his wrist? So so much. Most.
Jesus with the army duffel. Just buy a rolly case like everyone else, Bore-ouac.
This pump does not rule. Also, Jonesy STUFF is still STUFF, show.
More like "Punta BRAY-va," are we right? (This crap-tych is merely three of, like, four dozen screengrabs of the brawling poet not understanding the whole flies/honey economy, so: we're right.)
The alcoholic's hotel room. Is...that calamari on the nightstand?
Jonesy mourns the loss of the pump's other half/owner, instead of cramming it down Dylan's windpipe where it might do some good.
Please to button that shit forthwith.
Definitely no underwear, of any kind. (And Sarah could not hate that half-chignon look more, truly*.)
Tara needs that lamp, and Christmas approacheth. Anyone with a line on sourcing it, please see us in the comments.
...If Val's nipples haven't put your eyes out first. Like, they're glorious boobs, but this isn't Cinemax.
* Or C-SPAN, Kelly, so before you eye-roll Valerie, just a reminder: if your date is in a tux, that means black tie, and that means you put your hair up and don't pair a gown with a blazer.
THIS Jonesy, Tara might. Sarah's more with the aloha-shirted version.
It's not just that Lord Bywrong over here is prioritizing expressing his snotski attitude over maintaining the group's cover, or that now he's territorial about Valerie when someone else is appreciating her when he was content to slut-shame her before. It's that the writers are giving Luke Perry comedy to do, and he's nearly as bad at it as Tori.
Again: people can see you. Not that anyone cares, but just on the off chance?
Aaaaand we're gay again.
Lus...t?
Anyone else hoping that fish on the left comes to and eats Jonesy's ultra-daddish shorts/calf-socks combo?
Oh good, Rex's Mexican counterpart, Rey, is able to join us.
The bikini top is the "before"; the (under-)boobs are the "after."
Cyberfinancing. That laptop looks teeny, but it weighed 15 pounds, trust.
The portrait is legit cool.
And so is Val. Seriously: what is Dylan even talking about? (And unless the sea glass had a message etched in it to the effect of "don't yell my name when I break into the house and blow the entire operation"...)
Arriba, Rey, good grief.
Seriously, though: these breasts. They're perfect. (They fail to distract Sarah from whatever flowy vest-dickie situation is going on with Suzanne's top, however. Why do you need a vest over a sleeveless...vest?)
Egregiously bad stunt-doubling, even for this show. Is that Ted McGinley?
Sure, why not.
Guess it's cold in the Cavendish villa. So cold that everyone forgot to go check on Erica, the entire reason for this dumbshit caper.
Zzz.
