Happy birthdays, Mom and Dad. Even though I know neither of you bothers to read seventeen-page-long recaps of some lousy Spelling show on the WB about badly dressed witches in San Francisco and all of the wacky hijinks they get into with the demons and the bulges and the such. Still, it's the thought that counts, right?
Previously on Charmed: Kyle's girlfriend was a stupid bitch (in D minor); Kyle himself was secretly INSANE and otherwise annoying, despite the Rammer Of Doom he's packing in his jeans; the Dolt became Avatarlicious, much to the dismay of his sometimes ex-wife and her trampy sister with the fake boobs, until the latter was touched by a Cordelia, who granted her a vision of the superfabulous world beyond good and evil that promises to exist once the Avatars take control of everything; and, unbeknownst to all of the above, The Psycho constructed a teeny little Tiny-Gay-Chris-sized rack in the basement, and is busily dislocating all of the wee pretty one's joints even as we type.
Or something like that. My copy of this episode came from CTV in Toronto, so I'll have no idea what the Previouslys are until this evening at 7. That is, if I bother watching the WB's airing of this mess then.
Currently on Charmed, we fade up quickly on the sunlit Manor facade before following the Dolt's whiny voice inside to the kitchen, where the Dolt himself is flipping what's meant to be an omelette from a frying pan onto a plate at the center island. If it really is an omelette, then Piper's concocted some fabulous new recipe for the things that evidently involves basting them in shellac. It's as immobile as a rock, and I'm surprised the plate didn't shatter instantly upon impact. Anyway, Piper and the Dolt are in the midst of some tedious discussion regarding the Avatars' true motives, or something, with the Dolt nasally wondering why Piper's still withholding her approval. "You told me yourself it sounds great," he grumps, referring to The Superwonderful Avatarlicious Future Beyond Good And Evil. "It does," she agrees mildly, focused intently on the strawberries she's carving up to garnish the greasy yellow rocks she's calling breakfast food. "So, what's the problem?" the Dolt buhs. "Burning toast," Piper cryptically replies. The Dolt's all, "Huhn?" until Piper elaborates that the toaster on the far counter is stuck. The Dolt goes, "D'oh!" and prances over to flap a hand around at the cloud of smoke rising from the appliance while gingerly removing the blackened pieces of bread.