Roswell
To Have And To Hold

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It was a teenage wedding and the old folks wished 'em well

It's four hours and thirty-six minutes until the wedding. We're wherever Max and Isabel are, Isabel screaming, "You broke his nose?" She's mad, saying that he doesn't trust her, asking, "Do you really think I would marry someone I don't even know? Someone who might secretly be working for the FBI or maybe even an alien? Don't you think I walked through his dreams a few times, and that maybe I checked on his alien status a long time ago?" His, um, alien status? She becomes sad that she trusted Max to stand up at her wedding, and that he wasn't there for her. She storms out in a hurry, leaving Max standing forlornly next to a foosball table that takes up the entire portion of the frame not occupied by Max's nine-pound body. Tears. Tears at the arcade.

Tonight on your local UPN news: Airport insecurity! Your airport may not be safe! Thanks for the update, U-R-Many-Steps-Off-The-Pace Network. Also tonight, this shocking report: light blue and dark blue are both shades of blue.

It's 22 minutes until the wedding. Font nears its inevitable demise. Inside a room near the outdoorsy place where the wedding ceremony (21 minutes!) is to take place, Maria and Liz show Isabel a hideous -- and, I think, huge -- dress they found for Isabel. But just as Isabel proclaims it "fine" for the nine hundredth time, Bangs comes to the rescue, entering with another off-the-rack number and announcing, "This was my wedding dress, girls, and my mother wore it before I did." Isabel hugs her mom and grabs the dress, as Bangs frets, "I don't know if we could possibly get it altered in time." In twenty minutes? But how? How, indeed! Isabel responds that she'll take care of it, and I take as little time as possible to wonder why she couldn't just turn the ugly dress into a pretty dress, considering that's what she's going to have to do to her mom's decorative wedding doily. I think the point of that scene was to let us know that her mom was there. For some reason, I decided that I was going to make it all about textiles.

The very Italian neighbor on Who's the Boss knocks on the door to Jesse's dressing room, letting Max in and asking, "Can I leave you two alone or do I have to referee?" Okay, it's not really her. Hold your emails. But she's just as sassy. In an exotic, foreign way. You know how it is. Max holds up a piece of raw meat (obviously, I'd be forced to once again ask where the hell he was going with this if, sadly, I didn't know just exactly where he was going with this) announces, "I picked up a steak on the way over." And some wine and candles, Jesse, if you don't have anything else going on tonight. Max apologizes for being a terrible, terrible "person," and Jesse explains to Max that his father died when he was ten, and that it was four years before her mother saw another man. And yet I could never understand why nothing ever came of her relationship with that delightful Tony. So he understands, he continues, that "no one is ever going to be good enough for Isabel." Jesse continues that, though they may never be friends, they will be family, so they'll have to deal. And then, the delightful raw meat subplot wraps its own self up, as Jesse asks, "So, you gonna eat that steak, or what?" Max shifts awkwardly. Max holds the steak up against Jesse's face, and heals it in the process. Jesse looks confused; why did I let the man who is to become my brother-in-law in sixteen minutes hold raw meat against my face on network television, his glance seems to say.

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Roswell

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