Okay, so things fall apart, the centre cannot hold, and mere anarchy is loosed upon the world; we can still always, always count on OC reunions being fucking amazing.
AKA The Passion of St. Shannon, Pt. LXVII.
Stock up on your cannabis-infused blueberries, y’all; it’s on.
Grab your whips and tighten your corsets, Witches; it’s finale time.
Team Geriatrics (okay fine I’M OLD are you happy).
Whistler’s Mother (1871).
Sorry for the delay on this one, but I always need to take some time alone to *process* whenever Shannon Beador’s been attacked.
I mean, it is The Shannon Show, but point taken, Gina.
This Jamaica trip could have been way more racist than it was so, uh, kudos, ladies! I guess. Now we just need to survive an Atlanta trip to Japan and a New Jersey trip to Turkey…
I don’t really have anything pithy to say here, so I’d like to point out that Shannon and Kelly met at a restaurant called “Eat Chow” and that has to be a new low/high in absurd OC restaurant names. Who says that this show can’t still surprise us thirteen seasons in?