The Beverly Hills, 90210 Visual Aids Have Some Dreams They Can't Shake
Especially the ones about Dylan's revolting self-pedicuring in S05.E26, 'A Song For My Mother.'
The Again With This podcast that accompanies these Visual Aids feels like it's been sleeping for weeks.
50 Shades Of McKay -- although the only thing that needs dominating in this shot is those GODDAMN SHEETS, by a DUMPSTER.
Guess Kerouac picked his toenails.
Val's boobs, always our MVP.
This tat could only be more basic if it were a Chinese character a la Julia Roberts.
So glad we could spend twenty minutes of screentime on the Malibu-ins.
tfw she compares you to your mother.
We can't take hypnosis seriously either, but we're not the ones who put on our best Hemingway vests and cabbed it all the way out to Madame Ding L. Berry's place.
Oooh, so deep. ...Whatever, get a TV already.
A predictably bad plane lewk on Donna, from which Sarah is distracted by the possibility that that's Giles from Buffy behind her on the jetway.
Shave it. All of it. Eyebrows too.
That's not happiness to see David, is it, Ray. Or are you just about to sneeze?
If only this STUFF! face were incredulity at what a fucking baby Ray's being, instead of a doomed attempt to jolly him out of his perma-bitchface.
That's quite a permanent staff directory you've got there, miss.
"Yes, she moved out. No, I'm not Stephen Tobolowsky."
No one wants to see David.
No one wants to see Donna shoot Ray this icy a side-eye and not pair it with a boot, either, but oh well.
Because bars totally have mailing lists.
And a bar that obviously doubled as the double-date restaurant set from CHiPs would only be on its third Valentine's bash.
Not that this guy's even bothered leaving in between them.
Sheila, who may have been driven mad by the process of growing out her bangs? No shade; been there!
Ray, typically understanding of Donna's failure to simper at him from the audience in lieu of Doing It.
You can tell Donna's serious about the search because she's covered up.
You maybe can't tell that this plot isn't about Donna, thanks to a number of lingering act-outs that spend twice as much time on her in close-up as they do on David. CUT, M'GAHD.
We aren't trying to homeowner-splain life on the streets to this young lady, but that is an awfully conscientious '90s brow (and recent bleach vintage, not for nothing) for a woman who's outdoors.
Wish she'd given Donna some lipliner tips.
Chill out, (b)Ray; she's heard your dumb breathy songs already.
tfw you can tell that heel turn you agreed to is actually going to torpedo your fledgling career.
The most believable college-attire/-snack combo the show has ever depicted.
So the massive tops are genetic then. Got it.
Donna and her sixth coat of the weekend trip observe the weird father-son bro hug.
Homeless Sheila serving art-directed-grime non-realness.
The roving scalp of shock.
Sheila tries, fails to cry.
David tries, fails to cry.