This week on Pathetic Little Losers, Mona scares the living shit out of us! She was seriously channeling her Brit Murphy in Don't Say A Word by not saying a word and singing meaning less shit, which we at first thought was a weird segue into a Bing commercial but only to find it was just a Hanna/Mona ex-bestie code. Lol, leave it to the crafty little Asian to come up with a crafty little cryptogram.
It still continues to baffle us that these four teenage girls manage to find some way to break into the most secure of areas. How do they do it? Do the residents of Pennsylvania have a natural proclivity to the works of a locksmith? I mean, they're so good, the US government should seriously consider recruiting them and call their devision Tomorrow Never Dies…except for Ali.
Speaking of government officials, yet having very little to do with them, what's with the detective in this town creeping the fuck out of little girls. Like, only in Rosewood is it fly for this grown man to show up at people's homes and wrongfully accuse pubescent girls of murder.
Another thing unique to Rosewood, other than a rampant teenage killer/bully, is that the town's biggest slut is Pastor Paul. (It's funny that we can remember the exact form in which he eats ice cream yet can't remember his fucking name).
So this flashback was so unrealistic, not because of the bad extensions or the horrible camera-blur techniques a la Revenge, but because Hefty Hanna was very far from being hefty! Where's the fat suit Hanna huh? WHERE IS IT!?
Also, I'll bet everyone who was watching last night was thinking that Jason should have been played by the old Jason in the flashback. Am I right or am I right?
Ali's dad kind of looked like Mr. Rogers or like a community's gate guard.
Anyway, we loved your creamsicle skinnies Han Solo.
Aria/ Aria's Mom:
Sooo Ella is trolling for dick. She really is a slut, even Aria said so and she like, hooks up with her teacher.
Also Aria's mom, what's your plan here, you gonna fuck this barista? What is this, an episode of Girls? Either way though, this barista/coffee shop owner man is from something I can't put my finger on and he's pretty fucking hot even though he sounds exactly like Kenny Powers.
We were surprised to see that Aria’s mom reads Vanity Fair. We took her for the “Mom Jeans Weekly” type.
D dubbs Spence, if Jason was our half brother, we too would want to fuck him. Actually if Toby was our boyfriend and Jason was our real brother, we still would want to fuck him, not because we're into incest, but because we'd want to fuck anyone other than your misshapen boyfriend.
Also, what were you thinking when you put on those god forsaken white boots? Did you like wake up in the morning and think I'm just gonna take the blades off these old ice skates and wear them to high school! Wait, where have we heard that before? Oh yeah, our twitter.
Plus 10 for Jason for having read #130 Driving Like a Fucking Idiot.
Note to Toby: You're like, dating Spencer… why do you still insist on speaking in such creepy undertones?
The episode-long exchange between Emily and Maya's cousin was very fucking strange. Like what's with you, bro? You know she's gay and is sort of the widow of your dead cousin yet you continue to touch her ever so softly while batting your eyelashes. We imagine next week he's going to start dressing in drag in attempt to convince Emily that he too can be a lesbian.
The only thing we can say regarding Cece is … are all the networks on television running out of names because there is a Cece on every fucking show.
I guess the other thing we can say about Cece is that she is one seriously BSCB…or Emily is just an uber nicegirl:
Cece to Jenna: “I'll scratch your eyes out”
Emily: SHE USED TO BE BLIND!
No one to save Ali from evil = Not safe … what ABCF genius came up with this gem?
“A” could have easily just unscrewed the doll head, but that would not have been a proper use for the black gloves. So naturally he/she strangles the doll.
Also, cute website. Very insensitive of Spencer to casually show it to Emily. I feel a sharp pain in my stomach anytime somebody mentions the name Marissa Cooper, let alone show me a picture of my recently burned to a crisp lesbian lover.
…Oh and the password is probably A.