On the Outs, Zara pouts

Before I begin, I’ll just say this: I do follow the boards and yes, there was quite a bit of chatter regarding good old Tomik in last week’s episode. Oh, I saw him. Twirling his drumsticks. Winking at the camera. Lord help me. I didn’t catch him making out with Aimee, but maybe that’s because I stop paying attention whenever he’s anywhere near a camera. But anyway, for all those who require your Tomik fix, here you go…courtesy from me to you… it’s T-T-T-Tomik! Your captain Tomik! (Don’t say I never did anything for you)

Now with 20% more douche!

Ok. Now we can truly begin. But where did we leave off last? Oh right, the dramatic slashing of the wrists! Yes, DeAnn reaches for Zara’s tattered wrists while Zara shrieks, “STOOOP!” But, interestingly enough, she doesn’t really look that upset…in fact she’s kind of smirking. Every time she holds up her hands over her face to cry, I suspect it’s because she’s getting ready to break into laughter. You can practically see the big yellow sign flashing over her head: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! Yes, Zara is finally the Queen of Attention–all hail Dutchess Moron! But of course, DeAnn can’t pick up that Zara’s theatrics are merely for show so she repeatedly asks Zara why she cut herself. “I neeed to go hooome…” Zara wails over and over again. Yep, makes perfect sense, Zara. I do that too. Whenever I’m at work and I feel like going home, I just make a little gash with my steak knife and pray for the best. DeAnn is horrified and exclaims, “Her wrists are all torn up!” Uh…they are? You know, I realize this is supposed to be upsetting and all but let’s not be melodramatic…these nicks are barely a step-up from a paper cut. They’re not even bleeding, for god’s sake. So you can put away your slutty nurse costume from the last episode, Joanna. Zara just might pull through.

Cigarette burn? Nope, suicide attempt!

Elsewhere in the house, Andrea stupidly wonders if Zara cut her wrists due to her unusually cruel denial of the cell phone. “Do you realize if you’re really gonna do it, then you’re gonna do it?” Andrea asks. No shit. I think we all know Zara didn’t want to actually kill herself, so stop acting like you’re dispensing some kind of ancient, little-known wisdom on us, Andrea. Just because you’ve got the same figure as him doesn’t exactly make you Buddha. Anyway, she continues to babble about how alone Zara feels, in a very uncomplimentary angle, featuring her slouched in front of a plate of food as she shovels it in by the forkful. Attractive! Aimee, ever the kind, compassionate soul if there was one, can only respond in kind by yelling, “Bitches are fuckin’ slittin’ their wrists!” Oh, Aimee! Such a way with words! Bitches are slittin’ their wrists, yo. She really should be writing Hallmark cards. Meanwhile, Jodie emerges from the shadows and begins to rapidly fire questions at Zara: “What’s the problem? You can’t be yourself here?” Actually, I don’t think the problem isn’t that Zara can’t be herself. I think the problem is Zara is being herself– it’s just that nobody really likes who she is. Zara, failing miserably at securing any acting accolades, pretends to cry and says that everyone who has come into contact with her thus far, hates her. Cue the violins!

“Look how sad I am!”

In the house, Aimee and Andrea are still engaged in idiotic conversation. “If she’s lookin’ for someone to show her how to kill herself, I’ll take her upstairs right now and do it!” Aimee declares. Who knew Aimee was such an advocate on assisted suicide? Somehow, that really doesn’t surprise me. You could tell me that Aimee was Satan, Hitler and Sasquatch all rolled up into one and I’d just nod my head slowly and say, “That sounds about right.” Andrea pretends to be shocked and puffs out her cheeks in what either is supposed to be outrage or just her normal look. We transition once again back outside to Zara, wrapped up in something that looks like a cross between a dirty straitjacket and a blanket, who is smiling and looking vindicated as she basks in the glory of all the attention that DeAnn and Jodie are bestowing on her. And just like that…drama’s over.

Call me crazy, but I don’t think people filled with helium should be smoking…

The next day we see DeAnn in some strange house, lounging about with some strange bedfellow. And just who the hell is this? Oh…it’s only Steve. Unfortunately, Steve has chosen to wake up this particular morning, looking like a big asshole. He suavely rolls out of bed, proving that yes, he is both masculine AND cool, demonstrated by the rustic bandana artistically wrapped around his head, perfect 5 o’clock shadow and tough-guy scowl he somehow manages to form on his face the first thing in the morning. DeAnn tells us that she likes Steve because he likes to have fun, he’s flirtatious and he has big muscles. My, what a unique individual. He actually likes to have fun??? I don’t know where you found him, DeAnn, but promise me one thing….never let go.

The two decide go out for a morning drive. Unfortunately, this charming little jaunt doesn’t seem to have much of a destination, so they just drive about aimlessly in circles. Steve, seemingly regretting his decision to date a single working mother (or, in DeAnn’s case, NOT working or really doing much of anything) suddenly asks, “So…how old’s your kid again?” “Seven!” DeAnn chirpily replies, not realizing that was definitely the wrong answer. He was really hoping you’d say NON-EXISTANT, DeAnn. However, it turns out that Steve doesn’t really care about her son at all. No, he just wants to talk about himself, as he quite randomly announces, “I’m adopted, so….” So…what, Steve? What’s your point? Who was even talking about that, anyway? I was kind of hoping DeAnn would shut him down by saying something like, “And….?” but no, she chooses to indulge his ploys for attention by exclaiming, “Oh really?” Sensing an interested party, Steve jabbers on about the pain of adoption by revealing that it “totally affects you.” That’s right. It doesn’t just affect you, ladies and gentlemen. It totally does. After the hours of unsystematic driving comes to close (really, they didn’t go anywhere), they decide to make their day somewhat worthwhile by going out on a date. DeAnn sits down, laughing randomly like a braying horse, while Steve slides into the booth, looking like a douche in a knit skullcap. Seriously, is there a problem with his head or something? Is he bald? Stop wearing the damn hats, Steve! Let your hair follicles BREATHE! DeAnn, her bad skin illuminated by the romantic mood lighting, decides that it’s the perfect time for a “serious discussion” and asks him what the next chapter in his life is going to be like. Translation: “Are you going to marry me?” However, Steve ignores the question’s true meaning and instead reveals his much more noble life ambitions by saying, “I need to find someone who can do things with me and go places.” Uh…profound! DeAnn doesn’t get the hint and badgers him more by saying, “So, are you going to have a family?” Translation: “Get me pregnant.” But alas, Sir Steven dashes her hopes by soulfully looking off into space before announcing, “I’m getting tired. This beer’s making me tired. Or maybe it’s just the conversation.” Translation: “I’m adopted. Can we talk about that instead?”

Back at Bad Girl’s Headquarters, Zara is chatting it up with Andrea, each of them smoking countless cigarette after cigarette. Zara tells Andrea that she’s “never going to scratch herself again.” Good to hear! But last time I checked, nobody cares about your yeast infection, Zara. It’s your stupid psudo-suicide attempts that’s got everyone worried. Later that night, our Bad Girls pile up in Old Reliable, everyone’s favorite stretch limousine off in search of entertainment in yet another club. Upon arrival, the girls do what they do best…dance awkwardly, down shots until…horror of all horrors! DeAnn spots Steve in the club as well! Unfortunately, Sir Steven is seated with a gaggle of nubile young women, quite unaware of DeAnn’s murderous gaze. DeAnn’s eyes widen with mix of dismay and the insane rage only a scorned woman can possess, as Steve kisses one of his giggly companions. WELL! Quite the cad you are, Sir Steven! Not to be outdone, DeAnn does a quick scan of the room before abduction some poor guy known as “The Bait.” Unfortunately, her completely mature ploys to make Steve jealous are a bit unsuccessful as “The Bait” turns out to be an even bigger tool than Steve is. He creepily shimmies up and down the length of DeAnn’s body, waving his fingers in what appear to be jazz hands, while DeAnn looks away in embarrassment. Due to choppy editing, I’m not really sure Steve even notices the spectacle DeAnn’s making of herself, but he leaves and it’s bad news for “The Bait”: He gets instantly dropped and slinks off to a place where he’ll be more appreciated…perhaps The OC’s Bait Shop? It’s a thought. After Steve leaves, DeAnn realizes there’s really no point in lurking around so the girls head home just in time for a Zara Zurprise! She’s made them a bunch of pretty sad-looking cupcakes. Yay! Seriously, they’re depressing even me. They’re shriveled and burnt with sloppy lettering that reads something like, “I PROMISE I’LL NEVER CUT MY WRISTS AGAIN.” Either that, or “I’M SORRY.” I can’t really remember. Everyone except Aimee is thrilled so they talk about the cupcakes the rest of the night, yet curiously no one bothers to taste one. Zara might be a lot of things (psycho, whiner, drunk, possible lesbian, crazy, thick-necked, bad dancer) but a cook ain’t one of them.

These make even me want to cut my wrists.

The next morning, DeAnn proudly tells us that Steve has been blowing up her Myspace with apologies. Atta boy, Steve! Nothing says, “I love you” like a message on Myspace! Phone calls? Why bother? Actually showing up at her house? LAME. Clearly a man of our generation, Steve has chosen to shun conventional methods of apology and has instead taken the high route: He’ll probably leave her a really nice comment, perhaps a romantic profile song? Maybe he’ll even give her Kudos on her blog! Time will tell. However, DeAnn is still upset and tells that nothing he does will win her back. Yeah. We’ll see about that. Later that day, DeAnn and some of the girls are out walking…somewhere when they see some random woman wearing a sandwich board, reading, “I’M SORRY DEANN!” Who are you, Random Lady? And what are you sorry for??? Since DeAnn is nothing like me, she neglects to run the other direction and instead gives Random Sign Woman a hug. Aw. As it should turn out, it’s actually Steve’s sister, sent out to do his bidding. She tells DeAnn, “I’ve never met one of Steve’s girls before….except two of them.” Excuse me while I laugh. Sister of Steve (or SOS as I like to call her) is almost as much of an idiot as her brother. But…where is Steve? Oh, here he comes. Lolling about in the background, also wearing a sign! Steve’s sign cleverly reads, “I’m such an ass!” and….oh! There’s a picture of a donkey on it! Hilarious! Because a donkey’s an ass and Steve is an ass and…..eh, I don’t know. It was stupid. But if I were DeAnn, I’d be a little more concerned with the handwriting–it looks like blind second-grader with Rickets got a hold of a Sharpie. However, DeAnn overlooks Steve’s TERRIBLE and HUMILIATING handwriting and accepts his apology. They kiss and once again, all is right with the world–the sun’s shining, Steve and DeAnn are back together, Larry Birkhead is Dannielynn’s father…sigh. These are truly times to remember. Aimee, however, is quite unsatisfied with Steve’s apology and says it’s a big lie and he’s a loser. Hey Aimee, last time I checked, no you’re not exactly in high demand (except with Tomik and as we all know, that’s really a curse more than a blessing) so until someone’s willing to don a sandwich board for you, shut it.

This my sister!

This DeAnn!

And…the episode ends. I did think that Zara’s supposed cutting was just glossed over. Thoughts? What did you think about Steve and his apology? And Aimee’s constant complaining? I think she’s nearly worn out her welcome.