There are just a few Clueless references throughout this post.

While I grew up in a house where TV viewing was permitted before all my homework was finished (just not during—Mamadukes and Daddy-o weren’t that rebellious!), we were by no means a “TV-centric” kind of family. As such, having a DVR was a new phenomenon for me when I moved in with AD back in January. Eight months later, I debate how I ever survived without such a luxury. I also debate how I’m able to craft somewhat-witty semblances of grammatically gorgeous prose. Someone who watches as many episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians as I do should probably be in a vegetative state by now.

Where was I going with this? Oh. Franklin and Bash! Do you guys watch? It’s the best thing to happen to cable TV since the Housewives of Bev Hillz, except instead of Giggy the Pom and his (her?) bedazzled and British owner, you have the delicious twosome that is Mark-Paul Gosselar and Breckin Meyer. A.K.A. Zach Morris and the stoner dude from Clueless who thanked the crew at McDonalds while making a celebratory speech about his debate class tardiness.

So, here are two things for Tuesday: (1) if you haven’t watched F&B, get on it, and (2) if you’re a NYC resident who doesn’t plan to attend McCarren Park’s outdoor showing of Clueless tomorrow night, you are even more of a loser than Elton. Or the thug who held Cher up at gunpoint in the Valley. Or that full-on Monet of a failing fashionista, Amber.

But if you are, you’re as top a choice as the furry white backpack that Cher paired with her yellow plaid ensemble in the movie’s opening montage. Naturally, I will see you there, no ifs, ands, or whatevers about it!