Ringer: The One Where Catherine And Oliva Are Lesbians

Lesbians With Guns!

Remember how I started out recapping this show by being like “Well, it’s mildly ridiculous, but engaging,” and then how that turned into “This show is dumb and annoying.” and then how that turned into “Oh my god this show is ridiculous but I made a commitment to see it through so I guess I will play a game where I drink whenever anyone says ‘Siobhan’” and then how I was all “I HAVE NEVER BEEN THIS DRUNK” and then weirdly it turned into this sort of “Wow, I am buzzed, this show is hilarious, high-five Ringer, my old friend,  for continuing to Do You.” Remember? Yeah. Well it all happened. And now we’re entering a new chapter. A chapter I like to call “THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?” It’s like the five stages of grief only they are about processing my feelings about Ringer and the stages are innumerable.

As the show has simultaneously crawled and bolted towards its season finale, flashy reveals have become modus operandi, status quo, and other over-used journalistic Latin phrases that also happen to be true in this case. That didn’t stop me from screaming the loudest I have ever screamed upon learning that Crazy Catherine’s partner in crime was her sexy, illicit lesbian lover…..OLIVIA CHARLES! Because I went to hot yoga last night and then immediately followed up it with a sandwich comprised of stinky cheese and bacon coupled with a glass of rose – I kind of got drunk and full and neglected by DVR. This meant I had to go BUY the episode (for reasons of legality that is what I did, let’s all agree this is true, mkay?) and during my paltry lunch break set up camp with my falafel salad and watch the antics of everyone’s favorite gaggle of upper crust dwelling idiots in the lobby of the massive corporation where I am (sadly) employed (#firstworldproblems).  As such, my typical outlets through which to express shock at Ringer’s inevitable twists and turns (hurling plates, screaming dramatically) were both impossible and ill-advised. But when Catherine and Olivia’s love affair – begun when Andrew was all “GTFO BITCH!” and threw dollars at Catherine earlier this season (ha ha, that really happened! Oh the Welsh. They are so Welsh.) leaving Catherine with no one else to turn to (Okay. Fine. Let us all operate under the assumption that this piffle is both logical AND sound.) but her former husband’s foxy business partner – I had to react! My feelings demanded venting! So I loudly slapped my thigh and bellowed, “STUFF AND NONSENSE!” and because the lobby of the place where I am forced to answer phones and book travel and feign the dull placid demeanor of every other milquetoast secretary whose gone before me is people with mainly lunatics escaping the cruel elements of the out of doors, no one even looked up. It was exceptionally gratifying.

Meanwhile, we are still processing the flashback images of Olivia and Catherine re-enacting the pottery wheel scene from Ghost, Bridget is unconscious thanks to Catherine’s successfully scheming and – bonus – is in a bathtub rapidly filling with water. This made me narrow my eyes and not because it was, you know, TOTALLY INSANE, but because at the end of last week’s episode Catharine has sprinkled empty pill casings all over Bridget’s prone form. I had thought THIS would be the extent of her murdering but it turns out that this was just a really awesome ritual? The kind that maybe Stevie Nicks would have if she ritualistically killed ladies. I may only be saying this because Catharine was draped in an afghan at the time. Anyway, there was Bridget drowning in a tub, and then, because this is how television works, Andrew came home. Catharine does some pretty clever things to keep from noticing the deluge gushing forth from under the bathroom door but Andrew has no interest in hearing about the etymology of the phrase ‘tipping the velvet’ and so busts in and saves Bridget.

But not really, because now somehow Catharine has a gun? I miss how this happened because I was sighing and rolling my eyes too much as Catharine barked some shit about fleeing and taking Bridget with her which couldn’t actually be what was said because it doesn’t make…oh wait, sense does not apply. This is a sense free zone! Ten years pass and then Juliet is home and is completely unsurprised to see her mother being Queen of Banana Ranch: Now With More Guns!

But don’t forget, guys – though initially stymied by a slow internet connection as her hotel (Sigh. Rolling of eyes.) Machado is on the case! He knows Catharine is, in fact, the devil in disguise – something he plans on singing to her, just as soon as he can get in and save Bridget and the rest of the Martin clan. There are some shenanigans and a musical montage about love and then Bridget using Scooby antics of the highest order basically makes Catharine confess…while Machado listens in on an open line. Classic. Catharine thinks she’s gotten away with everything, but she hasn’t, and is caught. Wah wah. Man. I don’t even think the CW considered how offensive this arc  was, or how it could be perceived by the GBTLQ community to be implying that lesbians are evil schemers who must turn to vaginas only when mankind has rejected them. Yeah. Anyway, someone Bridget makes this all about her and her need to tell Andrew THE TRUTH and I can’t even with the eye rolling and sighs.

While all of this was happening, Siobhan was stalking the Russian Maid who tattled her on to the cops about trying to buy her silence about Henry’s role in the death of that hot guy who couldn’t ct from before. Naturally this woman is a high priced call girl and naturally she hella dies while Siobhan snoozes in her favorite of all nesting places, the closet of one of her enemies. Sadly, her fetuses could take no more of this and demanded their freedom while their erstwhile father – Mr. Henry is all – “MAURY GET THE TEST DONE BECAUSE I KNOW I AM NOT THE FATHER!” Henry is the most interesting character on the show, and I wish that the dead maid would be a ghost and that that would be a show I could watch instead of Ringer.