Wendy Kroy: Um. Wow. That was. Um.
Regina: I know. That's. Um.
Rona: See. Um. But. Do you. Wow.
Wendy Kroy: Holy motherfucking shit.
Rona: Pretty much.
We begin this recap at the end, as J.J. would want us to. Because, um, dudes? This was two hours of complete and utter fuckwittedness.
Wendy and his boyfriend, Rona, insisted that I hang with them for the finale, and really, I had no other choice. Sitting in my apartment, with acres of fine vodka before me, shrieking at the television every fifteen minutes? Or sitting at Wendy and Rona's, several dozen smelly candles lit, cigarettes aplenty, cats a-running, daiquiris a-flowing, Indian food arriving, and a gallery of "What the?" and "But they!" and "Did you SEE that fucking shit?"
It was either spend the evening with Wendy and Rona, or spend the evening waiting for commercial breaks so that I could CALL Wendy and Rona just to go, "DUUUUUUUUDES!"
Wendy Kroy: Dude.
Wendy Kroy: No, really. Duuuuuuude.
Rona: Okay. ENOUGH with the "dude."
Regina: But, dude.
Wendy Kroy: Yeah. Dude.
Rona: Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Shut the fuck up.
Previously on Alias: They gave us the rundown on cloning, apparently. Oh, and Syd and Vaughn doin' the nasty. And that bizarre moment when Francinator purchased a tie for Vaughn in the hopes that he would wear it during sex, rip it off, and allow the recording device within to tape his entire "let's bring work into the boudoir" conversation with his girlfriend.
And whaddya know? They're conversin' and the tie's recordin'.
Seriously. As this episode opens up, Syd and Vaughn are engaging in some rather raunchy sex, while discussing work. Yeah. Because THAT'S appropriate. They're all, kiss kiss, investigation blah blah, nuzzle nuzzle, I think my dad's onto us bling bling, rip rip, is anyone even LISTENING to us discuss work while we're throwing each other around the room and licking the roofs of each other's mouths?
Actually, at least one person is listening. And no, it's not God. It's Francinator. She is one seriously skeevy individual, people. Like, Syd and Vaughn aren't even discussing anything remarkably secret (or interesting, for that matter) and yet Francinator's listening in as if Syd's divulging her formula for cold fusion that involves Oreos, a gallon of soy milk, and a couple of spark plugs.