byrneunit

I rarely know what you’re talking about.

It’s canon, bitches!

Posted on | February 26, 2008 | 2 Comments

For real, internet, I don’t know if I can do this. Today’s the Color Me Badd episode of 90210 and it hurts me to watch. I know what crap every minute brings; it lasts forever. Like when I had teeth pulled. The removal of the first two was super agonizing, but when it came time for the other two, I knew what was coming: Nightmare village. That’s how I feel turning on 90210 and knowing that I’m staring down the barrel of Donna Martin’s coochie cutters.

This really happened. This isn’t some insane BH90210/CMB fan fiction mash-up bullshit. Jesus, I know there are some fucked up people on the internet, but I hope to god there’s nobody out there who loves 90210 and CMB so much that they would write this down on a piece of paper.

Pretty much until Shannon Miller came along, Color Me Badd was Oklahoma’s favorite collective Native Son. They were up there with Will Rogers, Bud Wilkinson, and the guy that invented the shopping cart. This ep with the gang from West Bev is monumental. See, Had I gone to the high school I was supposed to go to, Northwest Classen, CMB would have graduated like, 5 years before me. I was that close.

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that Donna Martin loves CMB, and tonight, for one night only, CMB are playing at the Whiskey (because Baggy Silver is on a first name basis with the whole damn bar). Pshaw says Baggy, that shit’s by invite only. What we have to do, see, is go to the BelAge and sneak into their room. That way Donna can also find out that her shrew of a mother is having a lame affair. Kills two birds with one stone, really. Jesus Christ, can you imagine wearing argyle coochie cutters on the day you find out your mom’s cheating on your dad? That’s a day that you will never, ever in your life forget and you will forever be dressed like that.

Oh, for Pete’s sake. I had somehow managed to block out the fact that this is also the episode where Steve hires a stripper to come to Casa Walsh, then Ahndrea, human killjoy extrordinare, shows up and ruins everything.

I have no patience for this today. David Silver keeps flexing his tiny boner saying he can get the lady gang into the BelAge to meet CMB, which we know he does, and it’s all downhill from there. Things kick into high gear when you hear the reverb on the fake snare.

Another reason this episode hurts is because nasty-ass Brenda is wearing an outfit that I unsucessfully tried to replicate on many occassions. It pains me to know that she thinks she can pull off black jeans and a stretchy scoop-neck top better than I can.

Donna’s just learned that her mom’s a total roundheels, so she calls her dad to tell him all about it. Where’s Dr. John Martin? Oh, he’s at the Medical Conference. Donna just calls them and asks for her dad to give her a call back at 310-KL5-6316. Yeah, the number for the BelAge is KLondike5-6316. I’m sure the Medical Conference will just send out a midget bellboy who’ll be all, “Paging Dr. Martin! Dr. Martin, you have a telephone call at the front desk!”

Kelly’s just come face-to-face with a real life skank-ass groupie who tells her all about how much she loves to give beej to Color Me Badd. Oh, but the joke’s on her! The guy from CMB who dresses like a trusty at Big Mac doesn’t dig whores in boas. He likes nice girls who give him crispy dollars at the Coke machine. Girls like Kelly Taylor. She goes back to their room and finds out that CMB are just like the rest of us. See, they told her all about the time the met Bon Jovi, so they know just what it’s like to be fans.

Too bad Donna has to talk to her mom about fucking around, so she misses the concert. Fortunately Kelly invites the damn band to the P. Pit! She introduces them to the gang, “My friends Fake George Michael, Fake Kenny G, Fake Vanilli, and Painfully Real Guy Who Drives A Mini-Truck.” They pull up some chairs and bust into (I Adore) Mi Amore. You do know there’s an extended talking in Spanish part in the middle of that song, right?

I don’t have this in me today, Internet. Earlier me and HGB got into a shouting match over who got to use the Swiffer. It took a lot out of me. Since neither one of us could behave, I had to put the Swiffer away and nobody got to sweep. See, now you know why I live in filth.

Category: 90210, Television

Comments

2 Responses to “It’s canon, bitches!”

  1. Nicole
    February 26th, 2008 @ 11:35 pm

    I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. Thanks for that!

  2. kristin
    February 27th, 2008 @ 4:51 pm

    Send HGB my way. There’s never a fight for the Swiffer here. And now you know why I live in filth.

Leave a Reply