by BREANA BACON
I will spare you all the formal greeting this week because if you’re anything like me, I’m sure that your stress levels have met entirely new heights. I am completely mind blown, befuddled, flabbergasted, and just outright dismayed at last night’s season finale. I tried my absolute best to spend my last hours before Scandal doing things that I would enjoy because I knew at 9:00 and one second, Shonda was going to slay my entire existence.
As usual, I was right and once again, Shonda has snatched our souls out of our chests and there is NOTHING we can do about it. I tweeted her about it, she didn’t care. I still believe she blocked me.
Let us at least attempt to remain calm while we debrief, okay?
First off, the calmness of Liv when they searched B-613 headquarters and found her mother and brought her in. Her ability to hold a straight face. UNBELIEVABLE. I would like to just add that there are so many people on this show that have lost their minds when it comes to Liv and that becomes especially clear when her mother is taken into custody and has the NERVE to say “My daughter is here, Olivia Pope is here. Handle them, Livy.” EXCUSE ME, WHAT? You try to murder her boyfriend, you killed her best friend’s girlfriend AND you tried to kill her father– but you want her to handle them for you? In the words of my girl Tamar:
Secondly, Mellie just can’t catch a break. Poor Mellie. Not only did she have to find out that she was her side piece’s side piece, she had to find out from her husband’s side piece! She is hereby dubbed Milkbone Mellie. Although she was clearly crushed that Andrew was dipping his breadstick in someone else’s marinara sauce, she clapped back with the utmost swiftness at Elizabeth and told her that they were not and never would be friends, not to mention that the only thing they have in common is the possible STDs they might have.
Welcome back, Mellie Grant.
Moving stressfully along, Cyrus’ dirt has surfaced and he has lost his mind because of it. I am not, I repeat NOT here for Cyrus’ resignation. Now, my next statement is going to make a lot of you Cyrus Bean fans upset, but my free thinking alter ego simply does not care. Cyrus has no right to bring up his loyalty to James when talking about marrying Michael to hide this illegal act of fornication because his loyalty NEVER EXISTED. He pimped James (God rest his fictional soul) on several occasions for the sake of his political career but now he’s so sensitive to what James would have wanted? I’m unamused and unconvinced. You get no sympathy from me, Cyrus. Suck it up and take the political approach one more time. All you Cyrus fans, don’t mention me on Twitter because this is not up for debate.
What’s really driving me crazy right now is this whole concept of the kill card and Quinn cutting off a finger and dropping it into her purse as if she was dropping a stick of gum in there. I just cannot deal with that. BUT we have more important matters to discuss, people.
I haven’t talked about Quinn in a while but she has reached a new level of idiocy in this episode that can only be summed up in one word: THIRSTY. Quinn, girl, boo, honey, do you HAVE to jump everyone in B-613’s bones on sight? Is it that hard to keep your legs closed? Especially considering these “kill cards” are being passed around like Yu-Gi-Oh trading cards and it just so happens that Charlie has yours.
GET IT TOGETHER RIGHT NOW, QUINN PERKINS. WE HAVE NO MORE TIME TO SPARE FOR YOUR FOOLISHNESS.
That’s all I’m going to say about Quinn because I am not trying to work myself up today. I’m supposed to be recovering.
Then again, how is it humanly possible to recover after Shonda had the audacity to stop my pulse by putting Eli Pope in Olivia’s house with a glass of wine, a Stevie Wonder record (my favorite one, might I add), and a GUN? Of course, it wouldn’t be a complete scene without a monologue about the Master of Shade, but I was thrown into a frenzy when Liv grabbed the gun, pulled the trigger and there were no bullets in it. I’m willing to put a semester of tuition on the fact that the entire world’s mood at that moment can be described as the picture below:
Y’all, I thought that was going to end the episode, the season, and the series. Then I looked at my clock and saw that it was only 9:30. My stress was equivalent to a man on Maury who’s about to find out whether he’s the father or not.
My mother texted me this morning to tell me that she knew I was screaming my lungs out when Mama Pope told Olivia “Girl, move ON.” My mother knows me very well because I’m sure my floor mates hated me at that point. I was FLOORED that Maya Pope could beg her daughter handle someone for her then come right back and read her like a Dr. Seuss book. That may be none of my business, though.
Although she proved to be as shady as Eli, Liv’s mom lit a fire that went back to burn Cyrus. To sum it up, Olivia’s speech was inspiring. I was questioning whether I was a #bitchbaby or not at the end of that. I was all the way here for Olivia’s new attitude after talking to her mother. They may be psychopaths sometimes, but mothers do know best.
Now as I conclude, let me just say that I was in no state to continue with the third of the Shondaland trifecta after all that I witnessed in this finale, much less to hold onto the last shred of emotional stability for the last two minutes. Normally, Shonda is gracious enough to give us until 9:55 but not this time. As we all clutched our pearls in wait of our bodies to be vacated of breath, it became obvious that Shonda chose to slay at the last second.
She. Kidnapped. Olivia. Pope. Liv is GONE, y’all. Wine glass tipped over, record still playing, Jake shirtless, all of that. Where did she go? Will Jake find her? Did the VP of the United States of Sleaze take her? WHERE IS ELI POPE?
I am simply fed up and I will need the entire two months and one week provided to get over this. I am working with my lawyers and with the Golden Globes, Oscars, Nobel Prize judges to simultaneously sue Shonda and award her for all the edges she snatched last night. If you would like to be reimbursed for the snatching of your soul and your edges, you can contact me in my rehabilitation facility, where I will be taking up residence until January 29, 2015.
I love you all, Gladiators and I’ll miss you all. Look for me in the new year with more of my stress stories on Scandal and there may be some new shows I’ll share my thoughts on. Keep your eyes peeled!