Roswell
I Married An Alien

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I Wonder Tangentially About Jeannie

Fade up on the freakishly boring, robotic, glowing orb of a…oh, dear God. There's no opening, pre-credits sequence at all, is there? We've just gone straight to the credits! And here's me, caught without even the vaguest notion of a wacky, anti-Dido opening credits quip! Damn. Wait, here's one: Shut up, bitch. Whew. Dodged a bullet there.

Fade up on a colorless split-level location shot on the corner of Pico and Fairfax (er, I mean "a charming adobe manse in the alien -- illegal and otherwise -- section of hipster downtown Roswell"). Isabel "Samantha Stevens" Evans opens the front door to discover Michael "Larry Tate" Guerin and Max "Tabitha Stevens" Evans bedecked in painting paraphernalia. Max holds buckets and rags, while Michael hauls in a ladder, brushes, rollers, more buckets, more rags, and an ostensible "painter's cap" that I believe he may well have picked up at the well-trafficked "French Lesbian Tennis Player In The '70s" tag sale going on near the farmer's market just around the corner. With mock wifely duty (for she is merely a mock wife), Isabel turns from the door and announces, "Honey, the painters are here!" Michael proclaims said wifely duty "funny" in a way that means, "I don't have time for your dumb cracks. At midnight, this hat turns back into Martina Navratilova and I can't be accountable for what kind of mood she'll be in." Max and Michael muscle past her, just as Jesse "Hi. My Name Is Jesse. This Is My Brother Darrin. And This Is My Other Brother Darrin" Ramirez enters the room and offers his help. Max offers that their painting the living room is "a housewarming gift from us to you," and Michael tacks on that it's also "a wedding gift. It's combined." Isabel laughs gamely before doing that [Insert Significant Landmark Day] Nazi thing she does so well, turning on Michael and deadpanning, "The wedding gift will be separate." Jesse confirms that "it's just very generous of you to take your Saturday out to paint our apartment," an essential recap of this episode's first eighteen seconds that confirms for us that Max and Michael are there to paint the apartment. Or else we would have had no indication, save for the brushes and rollers and lesbian hats and everyone already having said the word "painter" sixteen distinct times. I swear, if that Jesse didn't call me eighteen seconds into my morning each and every day and remind me, "Dan, wear pants," it's entirely possible I would just forget to wear pants. Thanks, Jesse. Now, back to the…wait, what are they doing? Oh, that's right. Painting. Wait, what? Oh, that's right. Painting.

Disappointed that he won't have a chance to hang out with the Dutch Boy (if you know what I mean, et cetera), Jesse nevertheless hops to attention when Isabel reminds him, "My dad hates late." He grabs some golf clubs (oh, dads), and takes off. Michael waits less than a second after the door closes to report, "You know, you could have probably done this yourself." But Isabel's a sucker for realism, chiding, "Jesse's gonna let his wife paint the apartment all by herself." By which she means that he would not allow that to happen. Ooooh, sarcasm. "Writer" Ronald D. Moore, growing up right before our eyes! Max asks Isabel if she knows what color she wants, and she holds up two cards and compares, "Tucson ochre or New England brick red." She wants to see them both, so she gives Max and Michael each a color card and has them carry them to the wall. As the plucked strings of the familiar "Aliens Painting (Paint Paint Paint)" theme song kick up, Max and Michael retire to their respective portions of wall and give the color cards the consideration they deserve. They then put up a hand and turn the previously white wall two different colors. Michael quips that he is "exhausted" from the strain and retires to the couch. Max volunteers to Isabel that he "like[s] the ochre," and I briefly wish Jesse were there to offer his opinion on the garishness of the ochre, because Max's interior decorating skills (wink wink) are clearly not as honed as they should be. Not to mention the fact that those two colors are way too dark for that room, and that Isabel should consider going with a rose-tinted white that would turn a more pinkish hue when the light came in from the west-facing window, and…well, never mind. I'm just saying.

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Roswell

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