Wow, it's been a long, long time since I've written one of these. Let's just say that I was abducted by aliens and leave it at that. Anyway, back to Los Angeles, 1993. For those of you who need a refresher course: Glenn sucks. And never more than in this episode. He sucks. He sucks so much. And all of his equally sucky band, Perch, has come out to Los Angeles from Philadelphia, and, now, in the middle of an unidentified living room, they're torturing...er, "singing for" Jon and Beth, both of whom paste pained smiles on their faces while Glenn thrashes around and howls and performs his low-rent Eddie Vedder imitation. My ears begin to bleed. This is worse than anything on The X-Files, people. Aurally, anyway. In an interview, Glenn admits that it was difficult to perform for Jon and Beth, because he was concerned that they were judging him. "Which, they probably were," he finishes. Yes. Yes, they were. And so was I. And, Glenn, I hate to break it to you, but your band is ass. Actually, that's a lie. I enjoy breaking that to you. I feel as gleeful as a sixth-grade girl on the last day of school, who, whilst cleaning out her remarkably messy locker, has discovered an unwrinkled tear sheet of River Phoenix, straight from Teen Beat, nestled unharmed at the back of her locker, between her Pee Chee folder and her slam book. "I'm also uncomfortable because the music wasn't perfected," Glenn muses, and that's practically the understatement of the twentieth century, finishing third after "That Adolf Hitler -- something's just not right with him," and "Albert Einstein: not dumb after all." Back in the Mystery Living Room Concert Hall, Glenn jumps and yelps and twangs in an attempt to sing. It's painful. It's causing me actual physical pain. In an interview, Beth wrinkles her nose. "Ahhhhh...[Perch's music] is different," she says diplomatically. Jon makes a disgusted face. "It's all just so weird," he says, making a face like he'd just been asked to eat a sandwich someone had fished out of the garbage can.
Glenn looks into the camera and explains that he has about seven people staying over at the beach house. Cue the montage of Perch sleeping all over the house: on the sofa, on a spare bed, on the ground, in the closet. Literally. "There is a plethora of Perch," Jon twangs from a chair on the beach. "They're everywhere." They are. They're jumping off the furniture. They're eating all the food in the fridge. They're acting like a bunch of unsupervised and poorly disciplined fourth-graders. "I actually enjoy Glenn's friends very much," Banthony simpers. Beth, in an interview, sighs. "They're nice guys," she clarifies. "They're just always around." Aaron sits on the stairs and looks balefully into the camera. "Like, you'll wake up, and you'll see Perch," he says wearily. Glenn, in an interview, explains that he didn't think Perch "was in the way." This, over scenes of Perch eating everyone's food and sleeping in other people's bedrooms. I would have had an aneurysm by this point, but, then, I hate the people. "Is this some kind of Holiday Inn or what?" Jon wonders, his long blond mullet ruffling in the ocean breeze. So, in case you're slow: Glenn's band is living in the house, and it's pissing everybody off. And while I think Glenn is being a total ass by allowing his band to live with them indefinitely, I think the rest of the roommates are partially to blame for not saying anything. They shouldn't have to, true, but obviously, Glenn's not the most sensitive flower in the garden, so they need to, if they want to fix the situation. Also, that conversation would provide some much needed conflict and drama in this so-far stultifyingly dull episode.