Previously, on Dawson's Landing; blah blah Dawson blah blah Dawson, blah blah blah blah Dawson.
True Love II: True Love Means Sleeping With That Waitress At The Restaurant. Pacey. Dawson. Coffee. Kibitzing. "For the most part, I'm fine," Dawson wearily assures Pacey. Pacey peers at the Head (I just typed that as "the Heave." Freudian slip much?) with well-faked concern. "Even though you're not going down in flames right now, you do have something on your mind," Pacey says. "So why don't you tell me what's on your mind?" Dawson swears that nothing is on his mind, "really." It's just that…he doesn't know what to do with himself. He knows he doesn't want to go back to USC, but that's about all he knows. Pacey advises Dawson to give himself "a break" and give it all some time. "Before you know it, you'll be back in the saddle," he chortles, as he slides out of the banquette and goes to make himself a sandwich. Mmmm, sandwiches. Pacey reminds Dawson that he, Pacey Witter, is the resident slacking expert, and that a little bit of doing nothing will do Dawson a world of good. Dawson informs Pacey that "that self-deprecating stuff" doesn't really work anymore, not now that he's all Mr. King Kitchen. Pacey shrugs. "What can I say? I love the kitchen life," he says. He slides back into the banquette with his snack, and muses that part of the package of said "kitchen life" is "grill-side drama." I guess those of us in a regular office setting have to settle for "Xerox-side drama," or "coffee-maker-side drama." Insert some bitching about She Who Shall Not Be Recapped, and Pacey's "very poorly thought-out attraction to her," like, is that a meta statement by the writers or what? "Do you want to talk about it?" Dawson asks. Because being a Poor Fatherless Child has given him a Newfound Interest In The Problems Of Others. Pacey shakes his head and tells Dawson not to "trouble [himself]" with it. He has enough on his mind, after all. Dawson looks at his coffee cup and clears his throat and tells Pacey that he knows Pacey will "find a way to help the girl." Pacey sort of peers at him. "Is that so?" he asks. Dawson looks up at him. "Without a doubt," he says. Wait, are we still talking about Karen? I don't get it. Maybe if one of the writers could drive over to my house and hit me on the head several times with a ball-peen hammer, things would be a little bit clearer. Because it almost seems like they might be talking about Pacey's relationship with that brown-haired girl. What's her name again? Frankie? Whatever.
Have I mentioned that I'm beginning to think that Grams is dead? I fear that February sweeps will feature a Very Special Episode in which Jen discovers Grams's cold, dead body submerged in a Deadly Vat Of Crème Fraiche. Jen and Joey study at the kitchen table of the soon-to-be-bequeathed-to-Jen house in Boston. They both look a little the worse for wear, and Jen eventually pushes away her book (The Agony and the Non-Ecstasy: Deflowering Your Friends For Dummies) and suggests a study break. She's been "nodding off to the same sentence to the point of drool." Joey agrees, and pours them both a cup of coffee, asking after Jack. "Deep in the land of frat," Jen tells her. Joey nods and exposits that she's Jack's date for the Sigma Ew formal that evening. Jen furrows her brow and admits that she heard something about said formal. "But to be quite honest, all that Greek-speak sounds like, well, Greek to me." Joey seems sort of uncomfortable about being Jack's beard for the night, and wonders why Jen isn't doing it. "Watching Jack pretend to be one with the thick-necked brotherhood? Bleagh," Jen says, wrinkling her nose. Joey timidly offers that it can't possibly be that bad. Jen snorts that she's pretty sure Grams has some "prescription medicine" that might help Joey through the night. This is the second time in four episodes that Grams and prescription medication have been mentioned in the same breath. Is it possible that the writers are setting up a Grams Is Addicted To Prescription Medication story arc, sort of a senior-citizen homage to Valley of the Dolls, in which Grams starts wearing fur-lined mules and marabou-trimmed dressing gowns and throwing Waterford crystal vases at Jen? Because I'd really enjoy that. Also: if Sigma Ew is so forward-thinking and all, why isn't Jack bringing some hot guy to the dance? He is still gay, right? And from what I understand, he does date men, correct? I really don't understand why he needs to bring a girl to the formal. Although maybe he just wants to bring Joey along as a friend. I don't know. Anyway, Joey doesn't think she'll need drugs to get through the night. She sips her coffee and sucks her lips into her mouth and asks how Dawson's doing. "You're asking me?" Jen asks. Joey admits that she hasn't seen him for a while. "I guess I just needed to know that he's doing all right," she says. Jen nods and tells Joey that Dawson is "better," that he's in therapy. "That's exactly what I needed to hear," Joey says. Because she knows that if there's anything the Head needs, it's an opportunity to talk about himself to someone who's getting paid for it. She admits that "it's been hard" not to be the one to see Dawson through his Time Of Need. On the other hand, she admits, she's actually okay with not doing the seeing through, even if admitting that makes her feel like a jerk. "Oh, stop it Joey, you're not a jerk," Jen protests. Joey half-smiles at her and says that she can't think of "a better person" to help Dawson than Jen. "I'm really happy that you're there for him," Joey says. Jen smiles wanly. "Thank you," she says.
Fraternity of the Corn. Bull stands in front of the fireplace, trying to get the attention of his chattering brothers. "Simmer down, ladies," he says. " No offense, Jack." Everyone chuckles, especially Jack. Bull announces that they've all got a lot to do to prepare for the formal, and "precious little time." Bull exposits that this formal is Sigma Ew's biggest event of the semester, and therefore "must be perfect." Also: "Everybody must get laid!" Cue the high-fives and cheering. Classy. Anyway, Bull says that, in order to assist the men who don't have dates, they're putting together a list of available and easy hotties. Again: classy. "I need names, people," Bull says, "decent-looking honeys, ready to put out!" Someone says something about "those fine-ass Worthington chicks," and everyone turns to Jack. "Come on, dog," one of the Frat Rats says, "we know you got some hottie friends. And we know you're not looking to score with them." Jack chuckles good-naturedly and admits that he knows a girl who "meets the specified requirements." A fratty blond perched on the arm of the sofa claims to have "dibs on whatever [Jack's] got," because he's seen "the quality chicks McPhee hangs with." Bull points at Fratty and says that "Eric's got himself a date." Much "woo"-ing ensues. I'm not even going to justify that scene with a response. I mean it. "Dog"? "Quality chicks"? "Decent-looking honeys"? Seriously, no one talks like that.