First Years
The First Thing You Do…

Episode Report Card
Keckler: D+ | Grade It Now!
YOU GRADE IT
Pride and Prejudice

Wading through her friend's raging hormones, Riley tells Anna she asked her over for a special favor, and she doesn't want Anna to get pissed. "Soda?" Riley offers hopefully. I'm sure everyone is supposed to be flummoxed by that offer and the beer offer. Not me, I'm smarter than that -- I know the soda and the Dos Equis are all a part of an elaborate favor that Riley apparently asks of her friend all too often. The writers are just trying to be crafty -- getting us right to the collective edges of our seats, they are. What would a can of soda and a beer in the morning have to do with a favor asked of a friend? Let's puzzle it. Anna looks weary. "Not again," she says. "Please?" "Riley." "Please?" "Riley." "Please?" "Riley." Oh, please. Weird: typing it that many times, the word has lost all meaning and it looks really foreign now.

Two actors pretending to be first-year lawyers and roommates come down the lavender halls. "All I'm saying is that I could spot you five points. It's something nice I could do for you," says a shag rug in human form. "You're talking a lot of trash talk, five foot nine," says the spitting image of PlasticMan. It's "talking trash," you goober. Might as well tie a sweater around your neck and meet Mums and Daddums for a really top-drawer round of golf. And is five nine supposed to be some sort of insult? Ever heard of Muggsy Bogues? "How do you expect to compete in jeans and deck shoes?" Shaggy says. "I can compete against you," snerks PlasticMan as Riley comes out of the kitchen. Shaggy kisses Riley on her cute little Exposition nose and says, "We'll be back three-ish." Riley asks where they're going. Rather thick of her, if you ask me, since they're "talking a lot of trash talk" and throwing a basketball around. However, Shaggy says, "A little street ball." Yeah, "street ball" on Nob Hill. PlasticMan makes some cryptic no-hard-feelings-better-luck-next-time comment to Riley. "Honey, you lost fair and square," the Shaggy D.A. tells his girlfriend, "and let's face it, it's a man's sport." Riley half-heartedly throws the basketball at his stomach. "It's a matter of genetics really," PlasticMan says, counting some money that suddenly appeared in his hand and handing half of it to Shaggy. "Don't be so sure," Riley says, stepping aside to reveal Anna slouched against the kitchen sink. "What's she doing here?" PlasticMan says in a panic as Anna walks over (man, Samantha, sweetie-darling-sweetie, put some cold tea bags on that luggage under your eyes, this isn't a cargo hold). "No, no, she can't play," Shaggy whines. "You said boys against girls," Riley insists. The guys complain, "She doesn't even live here." Riley tells Anna that normally she wouldn't ask this of her, "but these two --" "She brought in a ringer," Shag-Man whispers. PlasticMan says it's okay, because the contest is over and they won. Wait, boys against girls, they said? And of the people competing who live there, two were boys and one was a girl? Yeah, two-against-one sounds like even teams. Riley is still coaxing her friend: "I know you consider this a gift and I wouldn't want to exploit it, but," Riley gestures at the two guys, "they think that we can't beat them at this." "I can't believe this move," Shaggy says. I can't believe this dialogue. PlasticMan keeps saying Anna's not a threat. Riley offers Anna the can of product-placed Diet Coke, but Anna holds up a hand. "For amateurs," she says and walks past the guys. Heading towards the door, she opens her mouth and lets out a long, low BREEAHURUHERP. Anna walks past Andy Moffat, still gassing, and leaves the house. "Did I miss something?" he asks. Riley slings an arm over each of the chagrined talking-trash-talkers and accepts a dollar bill from each of them. "Clearly, she's a threat," Shaggy avers. PlasticMan laughs. Yeah, yeah, belching game, genetic code, the legal profession, male-dominated world: it's all the same anvil-laden metaphor they intend to shove down our throats for the rest of this series. Yawn.

Blessedly lyric-less credits starting and ending with the Fab Five plus Eric Schaeffer at the water's edge, with the Golden Gate painted on the background behind them.

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10Next

First Years

Comments

SHARE THE SNARK

X

Get the most of your experience.
Share the Snark!

See content relevant to you based on what your friends are reading and watching.

Share your activity with your friends to Facebook's News Feed, Timeline and Ticker.

Stay in Control: Delete any item from your activity that you choose not to share.

The Latest Activity On TwOP