Well, kids, I’m off on a mini-vacation with limited tv/internet access for the next few days. Good thing nothing exciting is happening on the show right now!
Actually, judging by the level of concern some residents have been exhibiting, being poisoned in no big thang. Not naming any names, Sonny. (No, seriously, why is Lulu the only one who seems upset about this whole ‘we’re all going to die in 48 hours’ thing? SHOW SOME REAL PANIC, PC RESIDENTS!)
Thankfully, even on a day filled with far too much badly enunciated mob posturing, Ewen was around to keep things interesting with his trademark cool, calm, and collected handling of the whole situation, as plainly demonstrated by his totally non-demonic crazy-eyed gaze above.
Of course he had to hit Patrick over the head with a baseball bat and kidnap Elizabeth! Don’t you see — tying her up is the only way to make her understand how totally sane he is right now:
EWEN: Despite everything I’ve done. I just really hope I don’t lose you.
Dream big there, champ! I’ll just let Elizabeth’s last expression speak for me on this one:
Needless to say, Liz, a veteran kidnap victim at this point, is holding it together much better than Dr. CrazyAbs. She even managed to sneak in an S.O.S. call to Jason (why call 911 when you have a hit man on speed dial?) who is — of course — already hot on the case.
And yes, my Liason loving heart is pretty pleased to see us getting one last rescue for old time’s sake. It actually makes me a little verklempt to think this may be the last time I’m greeted with a headline of such biting suspense in the grocery line:
CAN HE, YOU GUYS? I JUST DON’T KNOW.
We need to savor these moments, people. Savor them while we still can! (Actually, I just imagined an alternate future version of that cover featuring Anna as the town savior instead, aaaaand… it was a very happy place in my head, is all I’m saying.)
Elsewhere, Trey and Kristina (aka THE DUMBEST HUMAN BEING ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH) got married in what both were quick to assure everyone was a legal and binding ceremony. Because clearly, no one has ever managed to get out of a quickie Vegas marriage before. Those suckers are binding, y’all. And Michael let his inner ex-con Hulk rage come out to play for a bit (those two weeks in the joint made him a monster, you guys) and it seemed like he might confess the whole rape trauma to Starr… but no. Maybe later? I’d actually like to see those scenes.
But in the meantime, I’ve been totally distracted from all the Vegas scenes by 1) my crippling lack of caring about any of the parties involved, and 2) the fact that we’re apparently supposed to believe that a mass bioterrorism attack resulting in the quarantine of an entire town wouldn’t be causing mass panic and hysteria throughout the whole country. NO, NO… I’M SURE NO ONE IN VEGAS WOULD BE TALKING ABOUT THIS.
(And does Blair not watch the news? Why isn’t she calling Starr? Why isn’t Sonny calling Michael and Krissy — oh, that’s right. He has better things to do, like sit around taunting Joe Jr. My bad.)
Last, but not least, I’ve been meaning to complain about Johnny’s hair for a while, but then Todd went and took the words right out of my mouth:
CARLY: I’m pretty sure [Johnny’s] already been infected.
TODD: How? Have you seen the guy’s hair? He’s not big on showering.
WORD, Todd. You are my soul brother in Johnny hate right now. (Psst… dear Johnny: Just because everything about your personality now sucks doesn’t mean that you have to also look like ass.)
Enjoy your Labor Day weekend, everyone! I’ll catch you on the flip side.