Never Talk To The Beverly Hills, 90210 Visual Aids Again!
A pictorial history of a legendary moment! Also, braying.
Attending the party that is the S03.E19 Again With This podcast will help you make sense of these photos (and prevent Dylan from ripping a strip off you at school on Monday!).
It's nice of Steve to humor Nana, but David's right...
...the difference is almost imperceptible.
Never take a shortcut through The Prisoner set on your way to the Pit, bro.
That's a nice piece of "oh shiiiii" business in the background there, Mr. Ziering.
Divorce is sad.
Good thing Kel can take a relaxing break from that and all the other stress in her life under her BangSetter retractable hair awning.
We don't know from babies, but we're pretty sure that bad bottle technique is going to result in Erin spitting up all over that shirt. ...You know what, baby chunks could only improve that shmatte. Carry on.
"Nothing, just styling one of my customary turtlenecks on the way home from the hoosegow while my son tries to pass a cube poo."
Did Jack put that mascara on in the limo, or is there some homemade jailhouse eyeliner made out of beets and dried Bic ink that he spiffed up with before he got processed out?
Jack's whole reformed-family-bro shtick might go over better if his son weren't throwing the sulk equivalent of a no-hitter.
We know you're really into the environment, but there are easier ways to recycle a shoebox than affixing it to your head with pomade.
Shapeless Rollneck Of Despair, Ecru Edition.
And why despaireth Brenda? Because she fucked...this. Repeatedly.
She also got a faceful of gamble-bray. Rough week for our hero.
Get it, Christine.
And by "get," we mean "punch," and by "it," we mean "this side-eyeing little puke, in the cock, to death." GOD, he sucks.
More like "fore-EVER-play"; this scene is interminable.
You're at a hotel; maybe get a room instead of bonering up the pool for the other guests?
Nice bitchface, Bren. What's the problem -- Jim didn't check with Brandon first before forbidding an activity?
It's like they want to get caught PDA-ing. (The punishment is...no belt with a tucked-in shirt? Wait, that's OUR punishment.)
High Half-Pony Extra's really feeling herself in that Shaq-et today.
Anyone else keep expecting Bob Ross to creep into frame and paint a friendly little tree near Steve's collarbone?
"Help me, surrogate dad!"
Low-flow shower head (Tara) or flat-ironed (Sarah)? Hit us in the comments.
Or hit THIS in the face with the James Dean corpse he stole that fuglo jacket from.
Yeah, see, this is where we'd have just slammed the door in both their faces, because: depressing, humiliating message received.
Or here. Girl: do not drive all the way to a Robert Moses park in Century City to be told your besties just-the-tipped over the summer.
A deleted scene from a The Slap prequel, and Bren's totes justified here (and, as far as Buntsy's concerned, anytime: don't be touching the hair unless you're asked. Love, Jersey girls).
Poor kid. Dylan's doing you such a favor, and you don't even know it.
He agrees; he's doing you a favor just by knowing you! And telling you the truth about how he FUCKING CHEATED ON YOU makes HIM a HERO, even though HE FUCKING CHEATED ON YOU, and telling you was not even his fucking idea! BECAUSE HE SUUUUUUUUUCKS!
Boom. (We'd've added subtitles, but clearly they aren't necessary.)
The legendary stomp is more like the Brinda Amble -- maybe they needed her to time it to the crane shot? And also, seriously, how is she getting home?