Lost Spoilers

  • Claire moves into the others’ suburban community so that she can finally obtain and enforce a restraining order against Charlie.

  • Desmond hits on Claire. When she rebuffs him, he reminds her that he can see the future, and thus her eventual submission is a foregone conclusion. She figures, what the hell. Their super hot accents make them a hit at the others’ cocktail parties.

  • Juliette becomes repulsed by Jack’s growing facial bloat. She and Kate bond one drunken night, giggling about how Jack is totally the type of guy who’s really hot for the first month you know him, but becomes steadily less attractive the longer you are acquainted.

  • Jack claims he doesn’t care about all that anyway, because he has come up with a plan to save everyone by sitting alone in a tiny, bug-infested cave, fasting and meditating until they are rescued. No one takes notice of his self-martyrdom. Jack drunk dials Bai Ling.

  • Sayid reveals that he is actually Indian and not Iraqi at all. In his flashbacks, he explains, he’s really ‘torturing Pakis and,’ he declares, he’s ‘not sorry and would do it again in a New York minute.’ This announcement is followed by a long, awkward silence. Charlie takes Sayid aside and explains that racist sentiment is only adorable when it comes from Sawyer.

  • The polar bear finally tells its side of the story. Everyone agrees that it is indeed no easy thing being a polar bear on a tropical island, and they promise to forgive and forget that whole Mr. Echo incident.

  • Kate finally acheives her goal of having bigger biceps than Sawyer, but loses his affections in the process. To make him jealous, she has sex with Jack in a big cage. On camera.

  • Someone wonders whatever happened to Rose, and we discover that she and Bernard flagged down a boat and left the island weeks ago. They returned to America, where they met up with Michael and Walt. Walt cured Rose’s cancer with his unspecified magical powers. Meanwhile, Michael discovers that Rose is actually his long-lost mother. The four are sitting in their living room, looking out the sliding glass doors, when the seagull Claire tagged flies smack into the doors and is instantly killed. ‘I saw that coming,’ says Walt, and they all laugh and laugh.

  • The ghosts of Shannon and Boone appear to Jack and Claire and inform them that they are half-siblings. Based on their own sibling experience, Shannon and Boone suggest that Jack and Claire celebrate by getting it on. In a cage.

  • Jin’s backstory reveals that, prior to meeting Sun, he did a stint in a traveling circus, appearing as the world’s only ripped Asian man. Sun is angry at his having kept this a secret, but after he smacks her around a little, she is attracted to him once again.

  • Charlie violates Claire’s restraining order for the twentieth time, and is thrown into a cage. Where he has sex with Sawyer on camera.

  • Hurley hits it off with Alex and her boyfriend, and the three of them, plus that dude with the eyepatch, start spending all their time riding around the island in Hurley’s van, drinking decades-old beer and burning through Mr. Echo’s heroin stash.

  • Ben reveals that the common thread that summoned all of them to the island is clearly that they all had dead-beat dads (many of whom are inexplicably also on the island). Ben, himself a bad dad, further reveals that the evil black column of smoke is the manifested toxic hatred of bad dads everywhere. Ben leads everyone in couseling sessions, and they learn to live and let go. But first, they torture and kill Locke’s dad.

  • Alex discovers her mother is still alive. Unfortunately, she discovers this by stumbling upon a video feed of Danielle having sex with Sawyer in a cage. Even Ben agrees that they really ought to shut off that camera.

  • In the season finale, we see shots of Sawyer reading Lord of the Flies while wearing his girlie reading glasses. He comes up with a plan to sacrifice Hurley, and the group votes to go forward with that plan. Hurley is a good sport about it. Upon his death, the curse is lifted and everyone is immediately transported to their countries of origin.

  • At this point, John Locke wakes up, and realizes that the entire Lost series has been his dream. However, this includes the John Locke backstory. The (fictional) real-life John Locke is actually a thirty-year-old record store clerk in Lansing, Michigan. Even more mind-blowingly, the (fictional) real-life John Locke was the basis for Nick Hornby’s fictional protagonist in High Fidelity. Lost fans everywhere admit they did not see that one coming.

Low-Food Cafe

Low-Food Cafe

The Low-Food Cafe is a low-cal, low-fat, low-carb, low-food cafe that features dishes for the acetic gourmet. Chef Angie Brentworth has been living and cooking with anorexia nervosa for seven years, and opened Low-Food Cafe to supply abstainers with convenient, low-food entrees at reasonable prices.*


Wasa cracker with Laughing Cow
A rye-crisp spread with light, herbed cheese-food product, 70 cal., 20 fat cal.

A dollop of yellow mustard served in a teaspoon, 0 cal., 0 fat cal.

Soup and Salad:

Bouillon broth
A cup of hot broth made from half a bouillon cube, choose beef or chicken, 5 cal., 0 fat cal.

Jicama and celery salad
Chunks of fresh, raw jicama and celery served on a lettuce leaf, 50 cal., 0 fat cal.


Eggs Ana
One egg, cooked to order, served on half a toasted, low-cal bagel, 142 cal., 10 fat cal.

Eggs Mia
One egg, cooked to order, served on rye crisp, 105 cal., 5 fat cal.
Add Laughing Cow, 35 cal., 20 fat cal.

Vegan Delight
Tofu chunks sauteed oil-free in a non-stick pan, splash of soy sauce to taste, 70 cal., 30 fat cal.


No. 2 pencil, unsharpened, 0 cal., 0 fat cal.
(not for consumption)


*Low-Food Cafe offers delivery in a limited area, but patrons should really earn their calories by walking to the establishment.

A Serious Talk with the Best and Worst Versions of Myself as We Metaphorically Hike the Appalachian Trail

Seriously, guys, this can’t continue the way it’s been going.

You up there, running nearly a mile ahead of the rest of us, bounding over boulders and snapping branches back in our faces, straight through the night without cease. Well, of course there’s not enough time for sleep – we lose two hours every morning, since you insist on skimming both the Trib and the Times over your breakfast banana and fat-free yogurt, and then you have to do your precious sun salutes and strap on your ankle-weights.

And you back there – lagging along behind, stopping to loll about every time we pass an accommodating tree stump. And smoking, for God’s sake! And I know that’s not vitamin water in that flask. We couldn’t get you up until one this afternoon – I had to drag you along the trail by your feet, since Ace up there refused to wait. And when was the last time you bathed?

Last night, when we stopped at that trailside tavern – what was that, guys? We haven’t been around other people in weeks; I thought we’d have fun. What happened?

You – how many lemon drops did you have? I lost count after 7, and the next thing I knew, you were standing on the bar doing the Napoleon Dynamite dance with your pants on your head. What kind of impression do you think that made? And you certainly were friendly with the innkeeper. Yes, well, I’m appreciative that he covered our bill, but do you have any recollection of our conversation in the bathroom? You sobbed and carried on for a good hour about how unloved you are, blew your nose on my blouse, and then shoved your tongue down my throat. Honestly.

Oh, you weren’t any better, Ms. Mover and Shaker! You had the whole crowd so spellbound with stories of your stint as volunteer UN peacekeeper, interspersed with inspired impromptu performances on that old piano, that nobody was at all interested in meeting me. We were there for recreation, not to freaking network. And I can’t believe you have business cards and a website for our hike. Must you publicize everything you do?

Also guys, we need to have a talk about our provisions. Fatty, every time we pass a store, you spend twenty bucks on Ben & Jerry’s and frozen pizza and then eat it all by the time the sun sets. Well, too bad! I’m not giving you any of my rations anymore; you’ll just have to wait until we get to the next crossroads. And you – for the thousandth time, we do not have the funds, nor the storage capacity for fresh salmon three times a day; I don’t care what kind of diet you’re on. And here – from now on, you carry your own damn blender. Well, there’d be more room in your knapsack if you’d ditch the laptop, the easel, and the guitar.

Look, sorry, guys. I don’t mean to yell, it’s just that I’m exhausted from running intermediary between the two of you. Between your two extremes, we’re not making any headway on this hike. If you guys would just compromise, what couldn’t we accomplish?! We’d be Thru-Hikers, guys! Guys? Fine! Fine, then – you watch your Entourage marathon, and you listen to your NPR podcasts. The hell with both of you.