The “V” Live-Blog – Episode Three

Sing Along! (to The Flintstones tune)

V-Blog, It’s The V-Blog
It’s the stupid sci-fi boring show
From the – town of Vancouver New York
Once you see it, you’ll want to go…

Doo, doo – doo-roodoodoo – dooroodoodooroo IT’S THE V LIVE-BLOG THING and it’s slightly late this week because I had to go shopping in the heavy rain and then I came back and had dinner and then a bag of Skittles and fell into a Skittle-coma WHICH IS A REAL THING then I got caught up in Facebook updates and well, everything conspires against your V-Live Blog-based plans sometimes. Anyway, Skittle-comas aside, let’s live blog this shower of Sci-Fi shit, my darlings….

IT BEGINS. Begins with a re-cap of last week’s hijinks, which includes some things you may remember from last week, maybe the week before, but I remember them all because I write about it every week and every scene, which really makes me worry about the mind of Richard Lawson and the stuff he watches. The Remembrance Of Terrible Television Past soon comes to an end.

OOH A WHITE SCREEN. PURE WHITE SCREEN THE KLAN HAVE LANDED oh, no, wait – it’s just Anna getting her pretty face snapped by a camera for ID of some sort, because she’s an illegal alien and Lou Dobbs must’ve been groaning while watching the previous two episodes BUT SHE’S LEGAL NOW DOBBS, so calm your bitters cos she can now work as a greeter at SPACE WAL-MART.

Chud is providing exposition, and his chipmunk face is already annoying – I may have to scribble on my monitor with a black Sharpie whenever he appears. Anna is in a nice grey suit and is looking pretty hot, but she goes up in a lift to the museum’s gift shop or something and she and Chud share A STARE through glass and you can almost see the scriptwriter’s cursor blinking.

Pretty Boy Priest is listening to a confession from someone either deeply pixelated, or some sort of moving magic-eye poster in the confessional. From the side he actually looks like Marc Singer from the original series, crossed with 25% of Bryan Adams circa 2003. PBP is pretty useless, as a selection of pixelated Catholics come to confess, but he says nothing, nada, not even a chorus of “Summer of ‘69″ or “Did you see my work in Beastmaster” or “fuck off, damn Catholics, I’ve got my own problems with teh lizard peeps”. PRIESTING FAIL. DROP AND GIVE ME 20 HAIL MARY’S.

WE ARE GIVEN A TIME STAMP FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER and FBI Lady is in her special crime lab kitchen sorting piles of paper into really obvious bundles. I worry about her broadband connection, and hope that she doesn’t discover any of Tylenol’s special “cookies” in her browser. She’s wearing a lighter shade of powder blue with a white top underneath and is generally looking hot. Oh she’s wearing shorts but I can’t focus on that because the door goes and Pretty Boy Priest is there, to which Tylenol exclaims “Mom, there’s a priest at the door” like he’s Damien from The Omen. Anyway, Pretty Boy Priest complains about his multiple priesting fails while stealing some coffee and not noticing how immensely cute FBI Lady is in her kitchen-shorts. FBI Lady gets a call from the FBI, and closes her laptop without logging-out. BANG GOES ANY SENSE OF DATA SECURITY. PBP stays behind to sift through her piles of obvious paper in her kitchen crime lab.

Handsome Black Guy and Cheap Halle Berry walk the mean streets of Vancouver New York. She thinks he’s keeping a secret from her – OF COURSE HE IS, YOU’RE MARRIED – DUH! All married people keep secrets from one another – it’s just that his secret is that he’s a lizard underneath his handsome face. No biggie. NOW SHUT UP CHEAP HALLE BERRY AND GO TO WORK. The second she disappears, he jumps into a special down-low car to talk to Unshaven Man In A Car, who provides yet more exposition. UMIAC says he’s scared, which is apparently why he doesn’t shave any more. Natural, I guess. When you’re scared of lizard people, the first thing to go is any male-grooming routine. Then it’s your knees. Whatever – they both mention “John May” – who is either the brother of Queen guitarist “Brian May” or a leader of a Fifth Column. I’m hoping it’s the former.

CG spaceship is now hovering over the Met-Life building. Go figure. Other Alien Guy and Poor Alan Tudyk’s Care Assistant walk through some green-screen on the spaceship, discussing Poor Alan Tudyk’s state. Because, if you remember last week, he woke up in a giant egg-cup.

Poor Alan Tudyk is still in the egg-cup. He’s got good healthcare coverage, but has post-episode amnesia, like us all. GIVE HIM A RE-CAP, STAT.

CUE THE BIG RED V.

Anna is watching Chud on her space-plasma. The green screen stuff is pretty weak, and the geometry is out. But that’s the least of our concerns, because Chud is over-emoting to camera using his chipmunk skillz. Apparently some moaning cow called “Mary Faulkner” is moaning about something, and Anna and Other Alien Guy watch her perilously close to the screen. I worry about their lizard eyesight, amongst other things.

ANOTHER NONSENSICAL TIME STAMP and we cut to a Tea-Bagging party outside the alien’s museum with gift shop base. I count at least five hippies in the crowd. Hey hey, it’s Tylenol and Fat Friend. Some exposition, and then Tylenol sees Cleavage Alien Girl through the gates, pushing her lizard-tits out especially. But FBI Lady appears in her special FBI jeans – I’m regretting she wasn’t still in her kitchen-shorts, but apparently the FBI have a dress code for crime scene analysis. She’s there because someone called in a shooting threat or something, which is like a bomb-threat, but with a gun. V security personnel shop at K-Mart, where there was a special on dark jumpsuits. FBI Lady goes into the security office, which dates back to 2002, and instantly picks out blind-spots using the skills she learned at her kitchen table crime-lab. Oh, she uses THE POWERZ OF OBSERVATION to note an obvious hand putting in obvious numbers into a lizard keypad which opens up a door behind which is GLOWY ALIEN STUFF. I’m actually surprised that the owner of the obvious hand didn’t shout out the numbers as he keyed them in. What we learn here is – no matter what planet you’re from, security personnel are always the lowest paid, with the fewest benefits, so you get what you pay for.

I take a break for some tea and a cigarette. It’s also 6.18am, and raining heavily. Of course. I actually break for a day and a half – V-blogging (and life in general) is taking it’s toll on me. Back to the lack of action.

OKAY – ANOTHER BREAK FOR TEA BEFORE I START UP AGAIN. Meh.

Pretty Boy Priest is scribbling names out on paper. Priests hate databases. He discovers Unshaven Man In A Car, whose mugshot only shows the slightest of growth on his perpetually hairy face.

Handsome Black Guy and Unshaven Man In A Car are walking and talking about obvious stuff. Backstory is best done in an alleyway. HBG wants to put “a column back together”, which if it isn’t down-low talk, I don’t know what is.

Anyway, Handsome Black Guy finally meets Cyrus, who is frankly another unshaven disappointment. How are they going to fight TEH LIZARDS without basic grooming abilities?

On the CG space ship, which I guess is still above the Met-Life building. Anna is addressing her minions, who are arranged in some sort of alien gameshow geometric pattern. BUT THEY DISAPPEAR INTO TEH THIN AIR – WHICH MEANS EVEN THE POORLY-EXECUTED CG SHUTTLES ARE A HORRIBLE LIZARD-LIE. Or – Cisco have really been working on their tele-conferencing software. It’s the latter, sadly.

Poor Alan Tudyk is still in the giant egg-cup. This is how all Americans will be treated once Obama’s DeathCare bill is passed – in giant egg-cups. PAT is wearing space-buttons on his temples.

Anna and the Other Alien Guy are discussing Mary Faulkner Fucker. I can be barely bothered typing now.

Pretty Boy Priest is out in his priest-mobile, looking for Unshaven Guy In A Car. Being dressed as a priest almost ensures no-one will notice him. PBP gives some lady his card – priests now have cards, as well as rock-hard abs from all the priesting.

Cyrus has a weasel face. Because he is a weasel, he betrays Handsome Black Guy. Cyrus presses a secret buzzer in a secret place which is a plot device written by a 5 year-old. First mention of “Bliss” which is either lizard-crack or a sequel to “Blossom” on a previously obscure cable channel. That aside, HBG easily disarms Cyrus the Weasel-faced weasel and points his weasel gun at him. There’s some talk of “being reconnected”, which sounds as if Time Warner Cable are at the heart of all this. Which does actually make sense.

FBI Lady is running up a stairwell outside the Visitor’s museum and coffee shop and is showing some tasteful cleavage. There’s another time code for NO REASON WHATSOEVER. Using her Special FBI eyes, she notices a background artist extra guard is missing. She instantly discovers unconscious legs attached to an unconscious man which everyone else there has missed and again INSTANTLY figures out his poorly-finished Visitors jacket (available for $39.99 in the museum’s gift shop) is missing. SOMEONE WITH POOR DRESS-SENSE IS UP TO NO GOOD. She informs every other FBI person that someone with poor dress-sense is wearing a Visitors jacket by talking into her left wrist, which all FBI people do when they communicate. They also scream into their ankles when they want to call long-distance, which is only one of the perks you get after leaving Quantico. OH NOES IT’S THE MAN WALKING IN SLOW-MOTION IT’S HIM GET HIM HE’S IN SLO-MO and in case you missed THE SLO-MO KILLER he’s shown buttoning up his horrid jacket ALSO IN SLO-MO. FBI Lady spots him because he’s the only one walking in slow-motion (DEAD GIVEAWAY) and they chase after him. They enter a room where all the background artists Visitor security team are mingling about and not making much of anything very secure and probably moaning about being last at the craft table. The jacket-stealer pulls out a gun, trying to shoot the Other Alien Guy, and she disarms him with an elbow to the face and impressive cleavage. Not that I notice these things, of course. She’s on his back and ties his wrists together, and what with her straddling him and the cleavage, it’s hard not to find it vaguely erotic. The Visitor security people just stand and stare, and probably get the beginnings of Visitor-semi’s watching this display. I like a lady who carries cable-ties on her person.

Chud is on the TV at a pizza parlor (which Vancouver is famous for), doing his usual chipmunk exposition thing. Tylenol and Fat Friend enter. Fat Friend is dressing less provocatively than last week, and I can barely see his impressive moobs. Cleavage Alien Girl is sitting in a corner, looking demure and actually pretty cute. Fat Friend set up this meet, because that’s what Fat Friends are for. We hear the delicate tinkle of a piano, which denotes this as a touching moment. CAG has got her visa, and the first place she visits in Vancouver New York is a pizza parlour? TOURISTING FAIL. Anyway, somebody told her the pizza was amazing there, but I notice it’s spinning around under those heat-lamp things, so this “somebody” was probably having a joke at her alien expense.

FBI Lady is marching her gun-toting subject up a hall. The subject is taken into a “holding room”, which can be easily-determined from the fact that it says “Holding Room” in big fucking letters on the wall outside it. After he’s gone, FBI Lady is allowed to wander like a young gazelle across the deserted Savannah along various corridors until she gets to the room where all the GLOWY ALIEN STUFF is kept. There’s no English translation on the door, but I’m guessing the alien words on it actually say “Glowy Alien Stuff”. Of course – she uses her FBI skillz and memory feats to enter the room by pressing the special numbers on the keypad. A jacket from the re-make of The Prisoner is hanging on the inside of the door. OMG – THE ROOM IS FULL OF LITTLE FLOATING ALIEN SCREENS, and is probably a fair reflection on how Steve Jobs would like his office to look like. They make little whoosy noises, because they’re alien, of course. When she touches them she can see what various other aliens are seeing as they go about the streets of Vancouver New York. She touches one and OMFG IT’S HER!!! She can literally check out her hot behind without the use of a mirror! She discovers – by use of hand-waving – that the LizardCams™ are embedded in the poorly-fashioned Visitor jackets. Doing this, we get several close-ups of her pretty face and lovely eyes – I originally thought I’d be crushing on Anna, because she’s Morena Baccarin – but I’m finding myself getting puppy-eyed at FBI Lady. She reminds me of an ex-girlfriend, I finally realise. OMG – she leaves the room, armed with this KNOWLEDGE – and we see on one of the screens Tylenol and Cleavage Alien Girl GOING SOMEWHERE!!! TO MAKE-OUT??

I stop for some more tea. This is really taking it out of me this week. Now I’m thinking about failed relationships from my past. Meh. I also take some painkillers for my shoulder and have a cigarette, and in a burst of self-awareness realize I’m now live-blogging my live-blogging. META!

On with the show. Anna is staring at the poorly-executed CG shuttle landing again. I think it’s just the footage from Episode One, but I don’t save them so I’ve got no way of telling, and if I did, I probably wouldn’t, because that sort of anal-attentiveness really is sad. Anyway – some jump-cuts – because Anna is practising her empathy. She sheds a tear, and probably learnt these skills from old Sally Jesse Raphael shows. She meets Mary Fucker, who is already crying, possibly from the traffic jams you get in Vancouver New York. Mary Fucker is doing some GOOD ACTING. It stands out, for me at least.

FBI Lady is back to looking hot at the most insecure security station in the known galaxy. Other Alien Guy wants to thank her for giving him such good masturbatory material for later on, what with her tying up other guys and the cleavage and what-not. Other Alien Guy has a “Just For Men” after-you’ve-rinsed-it-in-the-shower look about him, and also has the vague bearing of a high-level Scientologist. Maybe I mentioned this in a previous blog? I can’t be bothered checking. FBI Lady is developing some adorable wrinkles around her eyes and will age well, at least in my overly-imaginative and slightly desperate-for-female-company mind.

Poor Alan Tudyk is still in the giant egg-cup. He’s in a virtual FBI office, being walked through by his Care Assistant. PAT is wearing some tasteful V-neck pyjamas. He remembers being disgusted by his wife brushing her hair in the kitchen – I’m guessing there’s some special Lizard Hair-Brushing room on their spaceships, as this seems a strange thing to remember. Or perhaps she was a Health Inspector? OH NOES!!! He remembers getting smacked across the head by FBI Lady!!! He’s going to kill her!!! For that??? Jeez, Poor Alan Tudyk – that’s called “foreplay” in my town, ya prissy little lizard!

Pretty Boy Priest is in his church, next to some candles. Unshaven Guy In A Car sneaks up behind him and puts a gun to the back of his head. This is because priests normally have poor hearing, what with ignoring everyone’s confessions all day, every day. OH NO. UGIAC calls my new crush “the blonde, the mouthy one” – I HOPE YOU DIE FOR THAT DISRESPECT ALONE, UGIAC. No one disses my FBI Lady!!! Anyway, they finally bond over the shared feeling of being alone. That’s Catholicism for you.

Poor Alan Tudyk is still in his jim-jams in his virtual FBI office. His Care Assistant won’t let him go back down to Earth, and PAT tries to punch him, but he’s virtual and fails. Care Assistant is A TRAITOR and jabs PAT with something to shut him up or kills him, I don’t care. SHOCKS – WE HAZ THEM!!!!

Chud with more exposition. Mary Fucker has wiped her real tears away and is speaking at a podium. She tells everyone that shit happens, husbands die, and that Anna is her lesbian lover. Not really, but I’m perverted and that’s how I read things. In the press corp, one of the cameras is pointed in a different direction from the others – like, looking at the birds in the trees different-direction. I giggle.

Back in Cyrus‘ stupid shop or whatever it is. Handsome Black Guy is gone. As is Cyrus. On the door, someone has spray-painted “John May Lives”. Just For Men Other Alien Guy doesn’t like it.

Heh. Tylenol has gotten Cleavage Alien Girl back to his place. MAKE-OUT MAKE-OUT MAKE-OUT. FBI Lady interrupts his session with CAG. FBI Lady, being an FBI Lady, hears A NOISE from his bedroom, and asks him if he’s got company. Tylenol is a bad liar, because FBI Lady barges into his room to discover CAG in some impressive burgundy undies, looking mighty cute AND IT’S THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE WEEK! Being a cool FBI Lady, and my new girlfriend, she merely tells Tylenol to take her home. She really should be giving him a high-five.

Chud with yet more exposition. It turns out there wasn’t really a gun-man making an attempt on some lizard life – IT WAS ALL A SET-UP!!! SHOCK!!! Anyway – Chud is crowing about his exclusive interview with Mary Fucker, and Anna is happy.

FBI Lady and Pretty Boy Priest are back at the quietest church in North America. Unshaven Guy In A Car enters, and FBI Lady pulls out her piece. Sexy! Handsome Black Guy enters! It’s all coming together JUST LIKE THE BEATLES SAID YEARS AGO.

Cleavage Alien Girl is naughty! She tells Anna that Tylenol “is the one”, and that she should use him. Heh. If only. THIRD SHOCK OF THE WEEK – CLEAVAGE ALIEN GIRL IS THE DAUGHTER OF ANNA!!!!

Episode Summary: This week I fell for FBI Lady. Still no gerbils being eaten. Great undies.