NinjaPenguins

Adam and Chelsea definitely got it right this time. Months of one sided browbeating followed by moving in together to make your son happy? Check. Having to watch your partner constantly lest they fall into the abyss of their father’s withheld approval? Check. Conversations about their kid’s OCD acting as an aphrodisiac? Check. And totally not weird. Btw, using heavy breathing to indicate arousal isn’t working. I feel like I’m eavesdropping on some perv making obscene phone calls. Speaking of relationship disasters, I don’t care about Mariah’s big secret anymore since it’s obviously in service of getting Daniel and Tessa together. The show could have developed something between them without creepy flashbacks of a lecherous old barfly or Mariah acting like an asshole. In case you weren’t sure that Daniel and Tessa were going to smash, Danny is here to drop anvils and excess shoe polish. The worst part of the episode is knowing this dreadful glurge has only delayed the inevitable return to DOO-mah’s Chateau of Nonsense and watching a pterodactyl chew holes through hedges once she catches the scent of Sharon and Nick in close proximity.

Billy called Victor a geriatric edge lord. No lies detected. You know, the train was pretty cool. Then we get characters gushing about the most gorgeous, lavish estate they’ve ever seen, the beautiful (bland, fake ass looking) hedge maze and the whimsical dining area with flowers never before smelled or whatever. Do we see any of this besides the dreary maze? No, we just get vague exposition about how magnificent everything is. Riveting television. Just riveting. Forget about the telling-but-not-showing narrative incompetence and marvel at the sheer laziness on display as well, what with ushering little groups of characters through the exact same scenarios and putting the same repetitive, inane speculation in their mouths. Newmans on a train plus Biscuit Boy, Abbotts on the same train with Audra, Phyllis on the train, so far alone. The Winters may join her, I suppose, but for their sake I hope not. We get to watch each group read that fucking welcome card and listen to them theorize about what DOO-mah has in store for them. He’s playing a game! He’s going to smash their worst enemy! He’s making them fight for his amusement! Then we get to watch each group toddle through the maze while exchanging bad sitcom level banter. You can’t get more creative than writing the same damn scene over and over but with different actors. Dumbass probably invited them all to Nice to seize the petroleum reserve on Nick’s head. Suckers.

I think Adam would be okay without Daddy Satan backing him. He’s got an Ivy League education and can probably be a smarmy weasel on his own dime. If he and Chelz haven’t saved anything from the lucrative jobs they’ve held, then they get what they get. Characters on this show treat Victor like he must be obeyed and will inevitably get whatever dreadful end he wants. Walk away. Just walk away. Stop taking his abuse when you can, in fact, function without him. Adam is too spineless and thirsty for approval to do it, but he theoretically could. Now, Nicholas on the other hand? He’d be mopping up mystery fluids in a porn theatre’s restroom with an old sock if not for his parents. Look at that greaseball stuffing his maw with caviar, probably grabbing handfuls with the same fingers he had surreptitiously stuck up his nose earlier. Does Aristotle DOO-mah need a garbage ape for his private menagerie? Nikki’s snooty little jabs are very unpleasant. So is her oddly hued top. DOO-mah should have instituted a dress code, because the French fashion police are gonna swarm that train any second now. Nate shouldn’t crack on eavedropping. It’s one of the few plot devices in JG’s limited bag of tricks for moving the plot forward.

His name was mentioned approximately 752 times, but there were no sightings.

Just like the tides, Fuck Off Friday recedes from memory only to come surging back to our mental shores. Let the fucking off commence! Lily should have fixed Abby a nice, soothing mug full of piping hot fuck off. Working herself into a self-righteous lather, Abby fixes her face to Newmansplain how Victor’s monumental betrayal of Lily was somehow a perfectly reasonable thing to do. In fact, Lily should be grateful! Abby, not realizing she’s driving straight past her exit to Quit While You’re Behindville, invokes the holy name of Neil in her paternalistic “My daddy knows best” apologia. Fuck off until your sperm donor can pick you out of a lineup two days in a row, girlfriend. Please welcome honorary lifetime member of the Fuck Off Friday Club, Phyllis. It shouldn’t be shocking that this specimen would insult someone she tried to murder in cold blood, but it still takes me aback that Phyllis eats so much airtime while being an absolutely vulgar, socially unacceptable menace. Phyllis richly deserves a hearty fuck off for not only acting like a damn fool in front of Danny and Christine, but also for whining to Daniel that she almost could’t bear to leave because they’d turn him against her. Naturally, Daniel had to soothe her. Who’s the fucking parent here? The previews can fuck off as well. How has Josh Griffith not been fired for putting this cheap looking, derivative pigeon diarrhea on television. A hedge maze built from topiaries purchased at The Christmas Tree Shop? Like, is this for real? Was there a challenge to get every single character to utter the name DOO-mah? I’m tired of the guy and I don’t know who he is. Quite frankly, I don’t think I care.

After eight months of build up and using the words Aristotle DOO-mah over three million times, the show is going to bitterly disappoint us. JG is the dude who promises to take you to Masa and then expects you to enjoy his recently deceased goldfish being grilled over his busted car’s engine block in an alley. I 100% support boes in clamoring for the unpacking to be shown. What did Genoa City’s elite leave behind in Nice, other than the fucks I once gave? How many toiletries did Nick steal from the chateau? Better yet, how many items did Aristotle freely give him after watching Nicholas rub various body parts on them? I assume customs would cnfiscate remains taken from the catacombs by the Cheese Lich. Did Aristotle gift Billy the tarp used to cover the Eiffel Tower to use as a kleenex? These are the scintillating secrets I demand from my soap. No need to show Phyllis unpacking though, unless we get to see her pull out a bra.

I was worried that we wouldn’t hear about Aristotle DOO-mah today. What a relief! Victor’s relentless desire to immolate Billy Abbott in the media is so cringe. Pick on someone your own age, Victor. Like go kick an Easter Island head or something. Acting like the world isn’t familiar with Billy’s resemblance to a square of bottom bread is a choice. Why doesn’t Victor do it himself instead of hiding behind his spineless weasel of a son? Dick. Adam and Chelsea remain annoying and drab. Great advice, Nikki, telling Chelz to negotiate with Victor to make him, what was it? … oh yes! Engage in basic human decency. Everything is transactional to Mr. & Mrs. Dracula. Nikki sitting there preening and lapping up Chelsea’s fawning like it was her due was nausea inducing. Dull episode full of recycled conversation. Would not recommend.

The past two episodes have been rather… grim. Like, have the writers considered making new, interesting things happen on screen? It’s just an idea. I mean, I’m really excited to hear how Aristotle DOO-mah is reclusive, mysterious and powerful for the zillionth time. And I can’t get enough scenes where Lily and Damien dine and discuss whatever. Sure, we should be grateful that the show still plays all of its greatest hits like Victor being a vile misogynist, Phyllis spinning out when her narcissistic delusions aren’t validated and, of course, the classic cut Dumb Corporate Intrigue (Live at the Milwaukee Cheese Festival). Maybe I’m being greedy, but why not write some new material that isn’t a dark, creepy secret Mariah almost reveals before running off? Sorry to be so demanding. Monday, Phyllis went full viper on her son with a quickness when Daniel told her straight facts. As much as I don’t care for the pterodactyl’s chicks, I still feel bad when she attacks them for refusing to enable her. Phyllis wishes she had the well-honed instincts of a shark. In fact, I strongly believe 99% of Genoa City residents would rather see a land shark holding balloons and a box of candy through their door’s peephole than Phyllis. In a just world, Aristotle Dumbass would be inviting her nasty self to Nice to audition for court jester. Yesterday, Victor berated Audra for not whoring herself out to his liking. Classy. Hey, Holden, instead of bothering Audra after eavesdropping on her, maybe you should make a beeline for Claire and build your friendship so she knows where to find some fine comfort sex after she learns the terms of that dumb, disgusting contract Kyle signed. Speaking of Bouff, it’s interesting he won’t offer any details about the deal he made with Victor to his parents. Is he too much of a complete fucking idiot to realize he doesn’t have Victor handled and his arrogance is about to flatten his pompadour? Or does he have some glimmer of the huge mistake he made and is trying forestall the inevitable look of disappointment on his parents’ faces? Stay tuned!

Kyle, you stupid, grandpa sweater wearing fuck boi. Wish your mom & dad could see their big boy businessman signing a contract without the benefit of legal advice. There’s a local attorney with an open schedule and expertise in the malevolent dealings of Victor Newman, but you do you, numbnuts. The joke’s on Victor, because the immortal soul Kyle has forfeited has less substance than Pomp’s chin. Did the writers just discover pneumonia? I feel like they did. Everyone is treating the idea with this kind of horrified wonderment that’s just weird, man. Pneumonia can be dangerous (especially when you won’t get treated, Cole), but it’s not some exotic, incurable plague. Personally, I think Cole is having difficulty with turning into a vampire, so Victoria should take a long, hard look in the mirror at her absent reflection and contemplate her culpability. Now, not all Newmans inherit the vampire gene, but many are surprised to learn that Nicholas actually did. He’s a petrovampire who naturally draws oils from his surroundings and stores them in his hair. #Y&RLore Speaking of vile creatures, good fancy fruitcakes is Phyllis unlikeable or what? Getting in Sally’s personal space, making threats and calling her a whore should have lead to a rousing game of “Find Your Teeth” but I guess Sally realized that Phyllis would have no trouble spotting her bluetooths on the Athletic Club floor. Amanda must be a jonesing for a humiliating pink slip to wrangle an invite for the manic foghorn. Mariah killed that man in the flashback just to watch him die, didn’t she? Or he reminded her of Ian Ward, she snapped and now he’s resting comfortably at the bottom of a lake. Meanwhile Daniel is developing the hots for Tessa. So… Victor is now pimping both Audra and Claire out? He’s certainly put a monetary value on their romantic activities. He just needs a gaudy cane and coat to swan about town in. I’d like to say this is the absolute rock bottom show can reach when it comes to misogyny, but I can hear the distant roar of Josh Griffith firing up the excavator. DOO-mah or DOONOT-mah, that is the question.

Wow. The conversations today just crackled with energy and rapier sharp wit. I can’t get enough of this Aristotle DOO-mah fellow who is power sucking the show into his insatiable maw like a goddamn black hole without even being seen or heard! You guys, he’s scheduled his soiree for Friday the 13th! Oh man, the rich symbolism and subtle foreshadowing here is rivaled only by the audacity of thinking the audience is impressed. Maybe Genoa City is trapped in the dark ages, prone to superstitions and incapable of acknowledging the germ theory of disease. Doctors? Pfffft. Claire and Victoria struggled valiantly all night to balance Cole’s humors as consumption gnawed at his spirit. I’m sorry, but Cole is basically a nice, smart guy who wouldn’t expect his girlfriend and daughter to attend to his possibly contagious self. What’s he going to do if someone calls an ambulance - wrestle the paramedics? Dude’s a featherweight with a fever. The important thing here, of course, is that our plucky heroine Claire not only nursed her ailing father all night after singlehandedly throwing the world’s best party, but courageously summoned the strength to go work for grandma. Business never sleeps! I wonder how Kyle’s idiotic contract idea will put him in complete control of the Victor situation? Oh to have the sublime confidence of a mediocre nepo-baby. I just love it when people badly fake foreign accents for the lulz. I definitely did not sprain something cringing at Phyllis’ … whatever the hell that was. Nick’s pull my finger jokes are funnier. Like someone else said, watching a character be over the top manic without knowing if it’s supposed to signal untreated PTSD is uncomfortable. Phyllis is always extra. How do we know when it means something different?

I’m sorry, but what the actual deep fried, grass fed fuck did I just watch? I take back everything I ever said about AI producing these scripts. This soap is clearly penned by aliens unfamiliar with human behavior but trying to fake it. Do hospitals not exist in the grim, soulless reality that is the Genoa City of JG’s barely functioning imagination? I know I heard someone shout “call 911!” as Cole expired from tuberculosis. Imagine gasping for air, coughing your throat raw and being surrounded by chuckleheads who acquiesce to your idiotic protests that you’re fine. No worries though! Victoria, who once couldn’t open a cardboard box, will nurse Cole through this crisis with all her pulmonary expertise. Later, Victor shrewdly diagnosed Cole with the “beginnings of pneumonia” like he’s at all conversant in the maladies of mortals. Why even mention the possibility of contagion if no one is going to disinfect, wear a mask or run away from Claire after she returned from escorting her dad to the Athletic Club plague ward? Infuriating. Show us more contempt, asshole head writer. Speaking of sick, there’s Kyle, somehow escalating his smarm to a whole nutha level. It’s gross enough to be banging the nanny, but then you propose a contract with her tyrant grandfather that will pay out when you inevitably fall dick first into trouble. Real classy stuff. It would be much easier to ignore Victor, but I guess when you have the opportunity to be spineless yet mercenary, you jump on that horse and ride off into the sunset. Here’s something that bears repeating - having characters like Pietro and Esther gush about how cute Kyle and Claire are as a couple doesn’t make it so. Maybe, I don’t know, show them being cute instead of having their entire relationship revolve around a vampire. Not that anything can create chemistry in a void, but still. Aristotle DOO-mah. Aristotle DOO-mah. Aristotle DOO-mah. Aristotle DOO-mah. Nick, you slime ball. An invite to France? But you’re totally not getting back together with Sharon, right? Grab Chelsea and go steal some little shampoos from the upstairs suites, garbage ape. Side note: watching Chelz and Adam attempt flirty banter was as much fun as a cat hooking a claw under my toenail.

So… a party planner was hired to throw a party that looks exactly like every party in Genoa City. Sure, there was the odd twist where the host made a late entrance wearing a fabric baboon sphincter pinned to her chest, but that didn’t really elevate the proceedings. Nikki’s homage to David Bowie was unexpected and touching. Also touching was Nick’s sentimental gift; we were all invited on a warm, joyful stroll down memory lane to when some rich, overprivileged douchebags had snow delivered to their spoiled asshole children. We’d all be excited to drive a classic Ferrari, but a billionaire’s middle aged son should probably act like his dumb ass has been there before. Speaking of our debonair garbage ape, while Nick’s laidback divorced dad aesthetic appears simple to you fashion heathens, a great deal of work goes into cultivating it. Christian spent at least 90 minutes wrestling a pair of cargo shorts with a mysterious crotch splotch out of his father’s death grip. Nicholas doesn’t just wear common pleather - he pays a premium for pleather harvested from free-range, grass fed plows (pleather cows). The product in his hair? Uh huh. Extra extra virgin olive oil. Honestly, I’m no fashion expert, so I didn’t understand any of the fashion choices. It’s like some guests were dressed for different events. Victoria was attending a birthday party for her snooty neighbor’s dalmation, Abby was heading to a sleepover with her sorority sisters and Sharon was wearing one of Noah’s modern art pieces he sent home with her. Kyle forgot his lips, but he can just trim some excess fabric off Claire’s novelty flower and paste it to his face. I think it is a fantastic idea for the Newmans to accept an invitation from a stranger to fly somewhere. That family learns from their mistakes. Please do not let Aristotle be Cane. I get queasy just listening to Lily talk about him.

I really liked their conversation about Martin and the trauma Traci experienced. Jack talking to Ashley was solid as well, and you can see the contrast between how the two major families relate to one another. The Newmans are so dysfunctional, and watching the Abbotts treat each other with respect and caring is refreshing. They’re not perfect, but I’d rather watch Jack, Ashley and Traci have meaningful conversations than watch Victor berating his kids for perceived disobedience. My issue with Diane and Traci was solely the excessive discussion about the renovation. Good lawd, show, let that shit go.

You know, I thought the show was being used to launch a backdoor pilot today. Imagine, if you will, a family sitcom somehow more drearily unfunny than Full House and more sickeningly sweet than a leak at the Great Treacle Reserve. Amazing, right? The main characters are a smarmy ass marmot coasting on his nepo baby status, tall hair and Schrodinger’s chin, his kid from his MILF hunter days and the virtuous nanny turned bed buddy. It was absolutely as classy as it sounds. Turns out it was just Kyle and Claire and Harrison AND that I don’t give the slightest of fucks what that kid buys his GiGi for her birthday. Holy shit, like actual screen time was wasted on this content. Of course, this show is still reaping the rich bounty of Diane’s big two room makeover. What an emotional roller coaster that is. I wish they’d let us off the ride. Ashley gave her stamp of approval and Diane still got all up in her feelings when Ashley asked to speak to Jack alone. So… Phyllis. Why is she undulating and writhing and shimmying her boney maroney shoulders around with, you know, her son? Stupid Daniel asking her for details and specifics - lolol. Doesn’t he realize his mother has a PLAN and manic energy? That, plus her appalling narcissism and thirst for vengeance will carry Phyllis far. Hopefully to the moon. Btw, this show is teaching me so much about business, especially how easy it is to take, give, and run huge corporations. Maybe next week I’ll give the CEO chair at some aerospace company a spin just to see what it’s like.

Well thank goodness someone validated Diane’s Abbot home makeover, though how Traci was able to lavish that much effusive praise on her without wearing hip waders is a mystery. Hopefully Diane will never again disappear into her own navel over being considered a true Abbot. Ashley has yet to arrive, so I suppose we can all bury that hope in the backyard. How did this party planner rise to his lofty status when he can’t read a room and thinks the Newmans would go for stripper poles and emblazoning Nikki’s lemon-sucking, snooty expression on shawls? Kyle was completely smarmy greeting Party Pietro and a total fucking idiot complimenting Claire after the dude left. Yes, Claire is a strong, fierce, independent woman for… telling a party planner her vision. Whoa. Bold, revolutionary and probably something that should have been done via phone or email prior to the face to face. I think the writers wanted to be funny but couldn’t transcend “herp derp stripper poles.” Nick, your father doesn’t eat breakfast. Victor drains the life force of his thralls upon the rising of the sun as foretold by the Necronomicon. Sorry, that’s a book. Those are your version of Victor’s silver crucifix and garlic cloves; encountering one causes your cheeks to slam shut, trapping your Donkey Kong thong in an eternal wedgie. Btw, don’t be snarky with Jack. Show him some goddamn respect for once in your horndog life. You guys, I was wrong about Nikki. She is the very soul of compassion, extracting a promise from Victor to not destroy the Abbot family until after her birthday party. God, the sacrifice, the incredible loyalty to a friend… are you telling me no one has nominated this selfless woman for a Nobel Peace Prize? I need a moment alone with my emotions… Speaking of Victor, while there are many ugly sides to his personality, one of the most repulsive facets is his misogyny. He has implied a few times now that Michael is whipped and made to quit by his wife. I know he also believes that Michael “defected” to Abbotland, but still, why even go there? Then this supreme chauvinist thinks he’s the best choice to run his women relatives’ love lives. I’m sure Victoria’s poorer romantic choices had nothing to do with being raised by an asshole.

Another fantastic episode full of the lovable Newman family and their warm, caring, stable relationship. Is there anything quite as touching as hearing a father compare his kids to a recalcitrant horse? Nick obviously is one specific part of the horse. Michael mooning over Victor like the old prick is the love of his life pains me. Want better for yourself, dude. It’s such a one sided “friendship” that it’s hilarious to hear everyone talking about their bond. Sure, Nick, Victor absolutely looks at Michael as a son. Truly believable as we watch Victor berate and threaten Adam in one of the next scenes. Speaking of Adam, it seems like he wants to have his cake and eat it too. Chelsea needs to get it through her thick head that he will never, ever stop trying to get Victor’s approval. Just quit now and pelt Victor with the melons from your giant fruit basket on the way out. What kind of scandal will Adam and Chelsea create that will distract the old fool from the Abbotts? Everyone already knows Nicholas digs through the neighborhood rubbish bins looking for banana peels. Big deal. Wow. I had no idea Amanda was operating at such a self destructive level of dumb. I’d fire anyone’s stupid ass if they brought a flailing, clearly manic weirdo with glow in the dark teeth into my workplace. Phyllis has no plan. Is she going to squawk at Aristotle DOO-mah about her darling son needing to be force fed a purpose in life? Bet he cares almost as much as I do.

Kyle will choose a grilled lemon pepper chicken breast and a side salad because Claire has made him his best, healthiest self. Then he’ll stop at DQ on the way home and pound peanut butter parfaits while weeping softly.

I’m never quite prepared for Fuck Off Fridays, but here we are. Fuck off, Victor, you antiquated crybaby. Perhaps Michael has now truly learned what family means to you and realized how ugly and dark that meaning is. I thought Victor might hold his breath until he turned blue or Michael gave in, but then I remembered vampires don’t need air. Michael can find a better father figure if he still needs one. A friggin’ tree in Chancellor Park would provide a healthier relationship. Fuck off three quarters of the way, Kyle. I deducted a quarter because at least he stopped with the schmoopy and was relatively honest about what a dick he is. He should be pissed about Claire expecting him to make nice with Victor. Kyle needs to sit her ass down and give her the whole list of crimes Victor committed against the Abbotts. A party ain’t gonna fix that shit. He’s still a sniveling box of hair and I almost gagged when he read that dumb card from Claire and got that dumb smile on his face. Nikki, put your nose down and fuck off. What a horrible friend. She really expected Lauren to convince Michael to keep playing Victor’s human shield. Holy shit. Here’s an idea: the whole family stops enabling his toxic behavior, cutting him off if necessary. Or maybe Victor will just have to go to jail when Michael isn’t there to throw himself on the grenade next time. Nikki then tried to use her other so-called good friend as a bargaining chip, even after Jack said he’d be fine. Also, that stupid locket gets a firm fashion fuck off. I guess Katie doesn’t rate? And it’s not exactly cool to leave Summer and Faith out. I mean, I know they’re going for the multiple generations of Newman women thing, blah blah, but it feels like Claire is all that matters to that dysfunctional family.

I see what the writers are doing. Make one day so deadly dull that the next episode seems almost watchable. That little gambit will always fail when Aristotle DOO-mah is mentioned 19 times. I’m Team Amanda all the way. She is Dumbass’ lawyer and can only say so much. Lily and Devon and Nate and Abby came off as really paranoid to me, looking for hidden meanings and deeper layers that just don’t exist. I know they don’t understand what show they’re on, but there is no depth here, no underlying anything. Also, to quote a better soap, Abby should choose silence next time. How crass to roll up on the victim of your shit behavior with such hostility and entitlement. Repulsive Newman behavior for sure. Putting the words “star-crossed lovers” in Audra’s mouth doesn’t make it so, show. Kyle and Claire aren’t in a relationship; they’re in a pointless campaign to get a reaction out of Victor. I hate soap couples where one of them prattles on and on about how the other made them a better person. Kyle, you’re not really a better person if you haven’t changed because it’s the right thing to do. You’re just on a temporary break from your jackass personality while seeing Claire. Nate is about to logic himself into the truth about Audra’s plan. Seriously, by talking out loud in a restaurant, the dots are being connected. Damn, that’s exciting.

What is dead can never die. I think that was said about Cthulu but it also applies to Victor. My mother and I watch the afternoon soaps together. We are currently skipping B&B, which is vile, and yesterday my mom asked if we could just skip the last three quarters of Y&R and head straight for the Gates. My mother typically takes what the soaps give her without complaint but yesterday broke her, I think. She never skips Y&R. Even the most loyal of viewers will eventually peace out when the show is just a monotonous patchwork of stories that go in circles, repeat conversations and days upon days of people yammering at various restaurants without advancing any plot an inch. JG is wasting our time and insulting our intelligence. The least he could do is aspire to mediocre. That would be an improvement.

There is nothing wrong with romance among the older crowd. However, there is nothing romantic about bickering over your husband’s loyalty to a misanthropic shitlord, obsessing over your granddaughter’s infatuation with a box of hair or being all up in your feels over a half assed home remodel. What was even the point of any of this? An hour long guided tour of Billy’s nostrils would be more fulfilling.

This show will probably use a Victor hologram in perpetuity. Speaking of the devil, as much as I loathe the Phyllis character, I care even less for the way Victor aggressively stepped into her space. Keep your distance, foul misogynist.

I feel like there’s a contest among the writers to see which one can inject the most references to DOO-mah and Abbott Communications into a scene. What might be fun for them is misery for the rest of us. There’s Phyllis being an unhinged narcissist again. Daniel is enabling her again, thinking if he just states his case clearly and offers a perfectly valid, rational reason for her to fuck all the way off, she’ll do it. Bro, your feelings don’t matter. They don’t even exist in your mother’s headspace. Wake up, man. Mariah’s secret has to do with Ian? Maybe she discovered he was still alive and chased him through the streets of some strange city. As night bled into dawn, she finally cornered him in an alley where he begged for mercy and forgiveness. A piano fell on him. Mariah shrugged and walked away, not bothering to call police. Somewhere, in the distance, a cat meowed plaintively, the final note of Ian Ward’s swan song. I could be wrong. Everyone knows what a huge fan I am of nepo baby nanny fucker and Cherry Poppins. How can one get enough of two idiots endlessly conversing about getting a mummified turkey leg to approve of their dull relationship? I remember playing Barbies with my cousin and coming up with better romantic obstacles. The chemistry between Barbie and Ken was way hotter than Claire and Kyle though, and they didn’t even have any sexy bits. Are we to really believe that Claire, raised from birth on obsessive hate for one family, can’t understand that Victor’s toxic antipathy towards the Abbott men won’t be solved over s’mores and Harrison pouting because Claire dug up a bigger fossil than he did during picnic activities? Really tho?

Has the word ‘fun’ been redefined to mean standing downwind of Nick after someone pulled his finger? I feel like I’m supposed to be rooting for Claire’s and Kyle’s all consuming love to triumph over the sentient fossil, but I genuinely can’t be arsed. Schmoopy talk while boning your kid’s nanny isn’t a grand, sweeping romance. I cannot even fathom fighting a cold to be with the likes of Kyle Abbott, let alone a vampire. Almost the whole dreary show was about those two assholes and their tedious angst about moving in together. You’d think a billionaire tycoon would have better shit to do than disappear up his own ass over his granddaughter’s love life. You’d be wrong. A good writer who wasn’t penning Newman fanfic would have let Jack throw hands when Victor floated into Jabot like the ringwraith he is. At least let security give him a ten bell wedgie. If they’re willing to follow the story to its logical conclusion, I’m willing to watch. Holy hell Chelsea is dumb. She knows she’s made a terrible career move but doubles down anyway. Adam, meanwhile, explains to his lackey how to pronounce the name Dumas because we haven’t heard that enough. One day, Esther will hand Victor a manly mug of strong black coffee at Crimson Lights. As he swallows the last bitter dregs, Victor sees writing at the bottom of his cup. I am Aristotle Dumas.

Kyle and Claire just cannot stop being fascinating, can they? I hope we can watch them sign the papers on their new home, hit up Ikea for new furnishings and have adorable arguments about which way the toilet paper is supposed to hang. Claire is adamant that Kyle shouldn’t have done a deep dive on a new place without her input, but inevitably gives in because reasons. They give us all the sizzle of Nick scratching his butt without any of the charm. Phyllis out there bringing shame to raptors everywhere. If only her constant, relentless drama and vow to keep the cray coming would convince Sally that giving up a top fashion job for Billy’s latest imaginary endeavor is a bad idea. I wish Lily would let the Dumas thing go. It will never live up to the hype. Audra should tell Nate about her company’s first product, Romp with Pomp. It’s a hair volumizer, chin Viagra and cologne all rolled into a shameful brown paper bag package. It smells like smug, prostitution and sandalwood.