Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm notorious for being the recapper with the most VCR issues. Just ask Sars. It's either power outages or programming problems or bad tapes or wrong channels or busted machines; you name it, I've experienced it. But after setting up my apartment with not one, not two, but THREE VCRS last year, I thought my problems were over. And they were. Alias lifted the curse. That is, until last week, when I had one tape recording in the living room and another tape recording back here in the office where I was watching the -- oh, shit. I forgot to start recording. Oh, no biggie. I'll just use the tape in the other room -- oh, shit. I taped over it with that breast cancer Oprah for my mom.
Oh, fuck it.
The first five minutes of this weeks recap come to you courtesy of Wendy Kroy, who kindly watched it while I was on the phone and relayed every single second. It probably won't be as detailed as you'd like but, at this point, y'all are lucky to get it at all. And, quite frankly, if the show hadn't contained the hilarious Foolie/Spy Daddy comedy jokes moment, I probably wouldn't have bothered at all. So there.
We start off with rain. And SUVs. And lots of U.S. Marshals. Spy Mommy's in the back of a van, shackled, but still sexy as hell. The marshals pull Irina out and escort her into a facility. She's shuffling along because of the shackles and she's wearing this drab gray outfit, but she still manages to look dignified and lovely. J.J. Abrams better be giving thanks to Allah or Buddha or Confucius or whomever that Lena Olin agreed to do this show. Let's all try to imagine Anne Archer or Mimi Rogers or someone like that in the role of Irina Derevko. Not even close, huh? Yeah, J.J. Keep giving thanks there, stud muffin. And when you're done, give some more.
Spy Mommy is placed in a cell that, while it doesn't have a feather bed or track lighting, still has a rather retro government green frosted glass panache. Spy Mommy's not nearly as fond of it as I am, however, and shows her displeasure by giving everyone around her dirty looks. Seeing as she's shackled, however, the suggested imminent danger is slightly muffled. Kind of like when you flip someone the finger when their back is turned.
Bungalow Of Bawling And Pointless Plots. Spy Daddy rings the doorbell. and Foolie answers the door wearing a stupid red shirt. I actually didn't have a thought about the shirt either way, but Wendy Kroy thought it was stupid, so there ya are. Foolie has a bunch of paint chips in her hand, and she starts chittering on at Spy Daddy about her restaurant. "Okay, say you're hanging out at your favorite neighborhood restaurant with friends--" Foolie looks at Spy Daddy, who clearly has NEVER hung out with ANYONE in his ENTIRE LIFE. She sort of stutters and goes, "Or, you know, whatever. What color are the walls?" Looking for all the world like he'd much rather be hanging upside down above a pool of piranhas while receiving an orange juice enema, Spy Daddy just looks around the room and says, "I don't really go in for interior decorating. And shut up, Foolio." Hee. I just like typing that. Okay, "Foolie" is being upgraded to "Foolio." That's just damn funny. Anyway, Foolio gets the point and yells to Syd that her dad's here and he's totally freaking her out so could Syd hurry it up a bit before Foolio beats him over the head with a carpet sample book?
Syd's in the bathroom, putting a bandage the size of a loose-leaf notebook on her Spy Mommy-induced bullet wound. If I were Syd, I'd totally have a doctor look into that. The wound keeps appearing and disappearing. That's just not right. It's probably a lot more serious than just your plain old bullet wound. It's probably a magical bullet wound. Maybe Syd should go see a shaman or something. Syd leaves the bathroom and greets her father. As they're exiting together, Spy Daddy says something to Foolio about the color white meaning death to most eastern cultures and that perhaps Foolio should look into the color red for the restaurant walls. Foolio likes this suggestion, and goes on to remind Syd that Will's drug hearing is at 2 PM. Then she blithers on about how she'd like to kill the person who introduced Will to heroin with her bare hands. Spy Daddy starts imagining the orange juice enema again. Syd mercifully pulls him out the door.