Alias
A Free Agent

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It's called Alias, not Ford Focus's Alias

Okay, so, like, I am wickedly hungover right now. I made the mistake of going out last night with my ex-pseudo-boyfriend, Ruprecht, in an effort to reaffirm that he was, is, and shall always be, a complete and utter fucknutter. And, in an effort to prevent myself from shoving a lit American Spirit into his left eyeball, I seemed to think it necessary to empty approximately seven pitchers of Labatt's into my empty stomach. This, of course, led to me stumbling home at the indecent hour of 4 AM and consequently shoving not one, but TWO tofu corn dogs into my gaping maw and falling asleep with a pillow over my head to keep the evil light of day out of my bedroom.

In short? I am NOT well, people. Great episode. Yeah. Fabulous. Loved it. My head hurts. Let's make this as quick and painless as possible, shall we? Because if I don't get to sleep by 9:30 PM, I'm going to send a live plucked hen over to Ruprecht's house via courier. Just because.

Previously on Alias: I am hungover. Oh, and Vaughn and Syd DID IT.

This recap is being brought to you by the product-placed Ford Focus. Ford Focus. When you absolutely, positively, without question, can't afford a Mini Cooper.

We open up on two sets of naked footsies, tangled in some lemon-colored sheets. The camera pans up, and we're treated to the aftermath of Spy Sex -- namely, Vaughn on his side, eyes closed, a drowsy smile upon his face, and Syd, on her tummy, watching him, her arm resting between his arms. Aw. And gush. And somebody get me some Alka-Seltzer because I am in NO mood right now.

Syd's all, how're we gonna stay awake today? Vaughn's all, who cares? Kiss me. He caresses her shoulder, and she just kind of smiles at him. She's all, Vaughn? He's all, how come you never call me Michael? God, he's hot. No, really. REALLY. She's all, sometimes I do. Like, oh, I don't know, right after I screamed "OH GOD! OH JESUS! OH YEAH! LIKE THAT! UH!" Remember that? I don't recall using "Vaughn" in relation to my orgasm, honey. Pay attention

Then Syd informs Vaughn that she's graduating today. Huh? Whuh? She's still in school? Is there a curriculum designed especially for spies? Because -- dudes. She's barely been in the country long enough to sleep with her spy boyfriend, let alone attend CLASSES. Vaughn agrees with me because he's all, the hell? When in the HELL did you have time to go to class? Syd doesn't even answer his question because that would mean the writers would have to, I don't know, EXPLAIN SHIT.

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Alias

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