You know how sometimes you run into your ex at a party and at first it’s like, “Oh, hey, I didn’t know you were going to be here. Cute scarf” or whatever, and then it’s like, “Inside joke about the last time we had Jägerbombs together” and then it’s eye-f–king across the room and then she’s back at your place and it totally doesn’t matter that tomorrow your friends are going to be like, “What the actual hell were you thinking? That girl was up, that girl was down, that girl made you crazy, that girl was crazy,” because your brain has gone blind in a dopamine-fueled haze of ecstasy?
That’s how the second season premiere of Pretty Little Liars made me feel. Like, “When I remembered to remember you, it was never this good, but Jiminy Cricket, how I missed you, you crazy, crazy bitch.”
Previously on Pretty Little Liars, one girl got herself axe murdered. One girl came out of the closet as a raging homosexual. One girl stocked her closet with every classic literature costume you can think of. But, like, every classic literature costume as designed by Lady Gaga. Like if The Great Gatsby happened on the planet Zoltar in 3014. One girl learned the hard way what happens when you lose your virginity to a vagabond. And one girl got into the most lesbian relationship imaginable with her Gilbert Blythe doppelganger of a literature teacher.
Actually, oh my God, I just realized something. Not to give JennaBot any ideas, but if you put all four Liars in a blender and then poured them into a Human Bean mold, you would literally have the perfect lesbian. Think about it. Spencer’s wardrobe, Emily’s swerve, Hannah’s intuition and Aria’s industrial strength micro-emotion-processor. It’d be like if Ellen got bitten by one of those radioactive spiders that turned Peter Parker.
Anyway, we pick up right where we left off, in the parking lot of Rosewood Presbyterian Church. The Liars are trying to figure out if zombies are an actual thing when lace aficionado/JennaBot-lover Officer Garret comes over, all, “Remember how you called the cops and told them Ian was trying to murder Spencer, but then a winged vigilante swooped in and murdered Ian, and then Ian’s body went missing? Yeah, you’re gonna have to come on down to the station and explain that shit to the chief.”
On the way to the station, he pulls into an ally and gets sinister about how they can’t tell the cops about their treasure trove of compromising videos, especially the ones where JennaBot is making incest with Toby. Hanna’s like, “Don’t even worry about it, those things are stored safely on a flash drive in a spaghetti noodle box in a cupboard in my kitchen.”
The girls spend the night cuddled together in Spencer’s bedroom like a basket of kittens.
When they make their way down to the kitchen for coffee — Spencer gaying it up in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants — the Liars’ parents are standing around trying to look authoritative. I mean, God love them, but they all need a solid month in a Lorelai Gilmore-sanctioned boot camp. A visible shiver passes through the Liars as their parents start explaining how they need to go see a therapist because their collective craziness has reached nuclear proportions. Spencer’s like, “Just to clarify, you do believe me when I say Ian’s attempted murder of me resulted in his own personal murder, right?” The parents look all sketchy out of the corners of their eyes and scuff their toes on the carpet and Spencer’s like, “Right. Good to know.”