Reception. Tim enters the party wearing a sombrero, and it only gets worse. This is like the reception from hell. Everyone seems to be having fun, but not only does the Hokey-Pokey make an appearance, the Funky Chicken also is prominently featured.
Everyone dances. The roommates do seem to be having a great time dancing and goofing off. Who am I to judge, after all? Just a single girl in a one-bedroom apartment where the heater doesn't work. And who do I have to warm my cold and lonely bed? No one. No. One. Would not I rather be doing the Funky Chicken, at my own nuptials, if it meant that I could roll over and snuggle with Scott Speedman? God, where do I get the strength to go on living? How do I get out of bed everyday and get dressed and go to work, knowing that my life is EMPTY and MEANINGLESS? I ask you, HOW?
Look what this show is doing to me. Just take a long look. It's not pretty, is it?
Rubber chicken is served.
Dom and Aaron have beers. I've had eight. I'd have nine if I could find the bottle opener and I hadn't broken the edges off my front teeth opening the last one.
Jon looks, in Beth's words, "crushed" that Irene has left them. He does look morose. You're eighteen, Jon. There are going to be tons of other girls for you to mope over. Get over it.
Tim and Irene dance to a song that Tim wrote and recorded for her. I'd be all touched and shit, except for the fact that the song sucks ass.
Jon stands in a corner and watches the happy couple, looking blue. Aaron voice-overs that Jon is having a hard time letting Irene go. We. Get. It.
Tami voice-overs that Jon really wanted to cry at Irene's wedding, and not from joy. Beth says she felt sorry for Jon. Tami concludes that Jon had fallen in love with Irene, and that while he was happy for her, "he, too, loved her in a different way." Tami sounds like she's reading off the back of a Harlequin novel. Beth voice-overs that Jon wants a girl just like Irene. A girl with a gun, I guess.
Jon sadly watches as Tim and Irene dance. A single tear runs down my cheek as I cry for myself, knowing that I have an entire additional tape of this dreck to slog through, and no one to run out to the liquor store for me when I run out of Jack Daniels in the middle of an episode.