7th Heaven

Episode Report Card
Gwen: F | Grade It Now!
Mary, Mary, MARY

Robbie finds fresh-from-the-shower Matt in the hall. Instead of making out like you know they want to do, the two of them engage in insipid conversation about Mary. Then Robbie goes off alone to call Mary back. Her line's busy, because she's on the phone with Wilson. Wilson, who looks like a Battlestar Galactica reject with his winged dark hair, wants Mary to have dinner at his place so he won't have to find a sitter for his kid. "You're still crazy about spaghetti with meat sauce, aren't you?" he asks. That line is so pointless that I decide to pretend it's a euphemism for something having to do with sex. But even so, it's a lame, pointless one, so I decide to slog through the rest of the episode mirthlessly instead. As Mary smiles and hangs up, her top lip looks swollen, as if she's suffering an allergic reaction. She leaves the room, and then the phone rings. The sad, sad clarinet plays while Robbie dials and redials the phone from the Camden stairwell. Who can feel sorry for someone dumb enough to care about Mary? I can't, although I can't say that I've ever tried, either.

I stop the videotape and hit the mute button. I see a tiny spaceship attacking Jessica Alba of Dark Angel. I wonder if the scene would look less stupid with the sound on. I turn up the sound and find that, no, it doesn't look less stupid at all. I press play and try to keep my eyes open as the CamRents discuss the probability of Mary having dinner with Wilson.

That scene is short, and I'm glad, until I see that it's followed by a scene in which Simon and Lucy discuss the probability of Mary going out with Wilson. Lucy seems to purposely make herself go wall-eyed as she considers the possibilities aloud. Shit, people. Go bowling or something. Damn -- Ruthie's in the room, too. She says a bunch of cutesy stuff about Mary marrying Wilson and Robbie finding a nice girl who deserves him. The doorbell rings, and all three brats run down the stairs to watch their parents open the door for Marie, who maybe, sort of, kind of looks like Mary. Everyone rudely gawks at her and says, "Wow." Lucy's navel peeks from beneath tightly t-shirted breasts in orange. "Mary, Mary," drone the twins, who should probably be taken out of the house a few times a year. Marie's there to lend Robbie some notes. I'm sad that she's not there to destroy the Camdens with deadly laser eyes, like I was hoping she would.

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7th Heaven




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