Ah, St. Valentine’s Day. The possibilities for writers are endless. Which slant should I take concerning this week’s article? The bitter misanthrope who blasts the artificial sentiment and commercialism? The nuevo-romantic who tries pathetically to ape the poets he studied in college? The warmly contented individual who looks at the world with optimism and satisfaction? Ah, the possibilities.

This week’s episode begins with Barney introducing a new entry into the How I Met Your Mother dictionary: Desperation Day. The annual holiday is celebrated every February 13^th by men looking for a quick and easy sexual fix, and unintentionally by desperate women who don’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day. Is it any wonder Barney sings its praises?

But alas, Lily is miles away from singing. With husband Marshall still in Minnesota comforting his recently widowed mother, she bemoans not only the inevitability of spending Valentine’s Day by herself, but the indefinite perpetuality of being alone. So distraught over her displaced beau, Lily has resorted to dressing a body pillow in Marshall’s shirts.

Robin, meanwhile, wants nothing to do with Barney’s parade of shame. Determined not to make a hurried mistake this February 14^th, Robin bands together with several single co-workers, each making a solemn vow to remain single throughout the holiday. Draping themselves in purple as a sign of solidarity, Robin and crew carry out their plan… only to have societal pressures get the better of Robin’s cohorts. As each of Robin’s friends abandon her for the first single man to come along, Robin is left alone on Valentine’s Day with nothing better to do than partner with Barney in a Laser Tag tournament.

Elsewhere, Marshall has found the hidden pleasures of living with his mother. He spends 23 hours of every day in his bedroom. He lives on peanut butter sandwiches and Sunny Delight. He has broken his all-time Dr. Mario record. He has regressed completely to his teenage self. Luckily, he has a wife as caring as Lily, who will fly halfway across the country in February to rescue him from his funk.

Lily is warmly received, greeted with a warm welcome from an unshowered, unshaved Marshall, only partially distracted from his Game Boy. She receives a similarly warm welcome from Marshall’s mother, who asks only one small request: “Get him out of my house!” Lily is forced to weigh the two, conflicting opinions: Mrs. Eriksen claims she’s doing fine on her own and Marshall is becoming a burden, while Marshall claims his mother is a nurturer by nature, and being a burden is his way of helping her cope with his father’s death (spoiler alert: Mrs. Eriksen is fine and Marshall is both lazy and oblivious).

But what of Ted? The hopeless romantic (emphasis on hopeless) has been invited by his new girlfriend Zoey to bake cookies. Sounds fun and innocent, right? Ted would agree with you. Everybody else, however, knows the hidden double entendre: “Baking Cookies” is the female equivalent of the booty call. Everybody knows that. Everybody, that is, except for Zoey, who actually wanted to spend the evening baking cookies. Offended by Ted’s forwardness, Zoey sends Ted home.

I have to give the writing staff some credit for this joke. While the HIMYM dictionary is one of the show’s hallmarks, sometimes they forget every word and phrase they make up is indeed made up. Having an outsider completely disregard the ridiculous vocabulary of the main characters in favor of the real-world alternative is a fresh and new approach that I’m amazed hasn’t been explored before (to my knowledge, at least).

Lucky for Ted, Zoey is quick to forgive. Zoey visits Ted at his apartment, apologizing for her overreaction, and thanking him for taking such a big step in terms of commitment. But because this is a sitcom, “Commitment” is the ever-dreaded C-word which causes every male protagonist to freak out, regardless of initial character traits. For no logical reason, Ted panics and visits Marshall in Minnesota, hiding until Valentine’s Day is over.

Guy talk is nothing short of a miracle. I wish I could explain the finer subtleties of the male gender in terms of communication, but alas, it’s a bigger mystery than Stonehenge. Two men can communicate great ideas, deep emotion, and a multitude of feelings in less than twenty syllables, often without trying. While Lily tried and failed, Ted was able to help Marshall past both his depression and father issues without even looking up from their game of Super Mario Kart.

Long story short, Marshall is finally able to say goodbye to his father and is ready to move on with his life in New York. Ted makes it back to Zoey before Valentine’s Day ends. Robin weasels out of her Laser Tag obligations by pairing Barney with Nora, a British co-worker who seems to identify and appreciate all of Barney’s tricks, (I assure you, we have not seen the last of her). And finally, Lily is reunited with her husband. Lily’s pillow is not invited.

I’m hesitant to even approach this week’s episode of How I Met Your Mother. Normally, I praise a well-executed episode, point out flaws and inconsistencies, or deride a lackluster attempt. But in the end, I’m still supportive of the series as a whole. This week’s episode, however, has so many flagrant offenses, so many pointless excursions, so many terrible moments stacked on top of each other, it’s like a layer-cake made with dehydrated, packaged coconut. But I’m a journalist (kinda, sorta, not really), and it’s my job to offer criticism, even when it pains me to do so.

For starters, let’s start with the start. Marshall is still in Minnesota. After his father’s funeral, Marshall decided to stay behind and help his mother cope.  Why he’s still there several weeks later, we don’t know. Perhaps if Jason Segel needed a few weeks away from shooting, we could accept this as a temporary character departure. Instead, he’s still on the show, just quarantined from the rest of the cast for no reason.

And this is where the narrative gets tricky. Because Marshall is in a different time zone from both the cast and the entire plotline, he needs to be filled in on his friends’ adventures secondhand. The show’s entire dynamic is thrown right out the window. Lily can’t jump in with a snarky judgment call. Ted can’t interrupt with his ever-moving opinions. Barney can’t force himself into the discussion with a brazen one-liner. Instead, Marshall is just stuck having a one-on-one conversation with whoever is on the other end of the line.

Maybe I could overlook this forced perspective if it told an interesting story. But no, tonight’s story seems like a parody of a typical How I Met Your Mother episode. Zoey, the character I’ve spent way too much effort expressing my distaste for, tries to affectionately distance herself from Ted by introducing him to her cousin. Ted thinks he has found his soulmate. Robin reminds everyone she’s Canadian. As Ted grows closer to Zoey’s cousin, Barney tries to muscle himself into the relationship. Ted has conflictions with his newfound love. Meanwhile, a misunderstanding occurs and everybody gets mad at each other. Then Ted wises up and sets everything right. Ted dumps Zoey’s cousin, and after half a season of pussyfooting around the obvious conclusion, gets together with Zoey, who has divorced her husband sometime before tonight’s episode (Bon Voyage, Captain. We hardly knew ye.) The writing staff has apparently been replaced with a machine that has perfected a How I Met Your Mother plotline algorithm.

Who is Zoey’s cousin? Her name is Honey. Well actually, Future Narrator Ted doesn’t remember her name. With many, many naïve moves and mistakes, nearly ever sentence Honey speaks is followed by someone within earshot offering a caring but derogatory, “Oh Honey…” Such mistakes include allowing her landlord to install a camera in her bathroom “for security,” Auditioning for Lost behind a KFC where the casting agent works his day job, and donating a large sum of money to a deposed Nigerian Prince.

That’s right, five years after it was topical, How I Met Your Mother made a joke about Nigerian Royalty. Other hilarious highlights from tonight’s episode include a bored Marshall developing hyperbolized manners, Zoey buying Ted 100 bottles of ketchup, Robin mistaking a Fahrenheit oven for Celsius, and a whole 30-seconds devoted entirely to the schoolyard favorite, “Hertz Donut.”

Even the casting was way off. How I Met Your Mother frequently casts pop stars in one-off roles, regardless of their ability to act. In the past, we’ve had Britney Spears, Jennifer Lopez, and Carrie Underwood to varying success. And now, we can add Katy Perry to the mix with her portrayal of Honey. The Glee demographic better be tuning in in droves for this painfully obvious pandering.

In conclusion, I’m a bitter crank on the internet who takes his favorite television shows too seriously. But in all seriousness, this episode was a mess from start to finish. If there is any highlight from tonight’s episode, it’s lost in a mire of ill-conceived plot points, boring jokes, clumsy storytelling and bad acting. At the very least, I can take solace in the upcoming Sweeps Week. I’ll make you a deal, HIMYM: You deliver next week, and I’ll buy you some cake. Not coconut.

From the very first scene of tonight’s episode, we learn there two of the most important rules regarding Sheldon Cooper. One, he should not be let out in public unsupervised, and two, he should not be allowed to dress himself. Decked out in a blue shirt, a yellow striped tie and a green-checked suit, Sheldon is a guest lecturer this week for a class of graduate physics students. Seeing himself as a science messiah rather than an insufferable pain in the neck, Sheldon cracks jokes nobody understands, mentions principles nobody’s ever heard of, and belittles everybody who meets his gaze.

But does Sheldon get depressed? Does he get mad at his students’ insolence? Does he burst out of the room bemoaning the class’ ignorance? Of course not; he’s Sheldon Cooper. He lives in his own private bubble of self-grandeur. He beams about his ability to spread the good word of topological insulators. However, the collected tweets and blog posts from his students tell the real story. Tweets such as “Dr. Cooper has taken a relatively boring subject and managed to make it completely insufferable. Plus he looks like a giant insect.” And “Does Einstein’s theory explain why time flies when you’re having fun, but when you’re listening to Dr. Cooper, it falls out of the sky dead.”

Solemnly, Sheldon accepts defeat. He ruefully accepts his failure at teaching his first failure since high school gym class. Apparently, he considers his previous failures with driving, bowling, drinking liquor, living in Montana, eating an exclusive cruciferous vegetable diet, etc. inconsequential.

Prodded by his don’t-call-her-a-girlfriend Amy, Sheldon decides he should make an effort to become a better orator. After all, an educator must not only be a fount of knowledge, but an engaging speaker. And with that clumsy segue, Sheldon turns to Penny for acting lessons. Frankly, I believe Sheldon is overreacting. Those derogatory Twitter posts are clearly falsified, as their highly complicated syntax and verbiage are way beyond the typical Twitter user. A real Twitter post would look like, “OMG, this guy sux, lol. [X [X [X [X [X. #professerFAIL”

The main storyline proceeds as well as expected. Penny is a talentless actress and tries to impart her sparse acting skills on an unreceptive, disrespectful Sheldon. We’ve seen this Mad Lib storyline before.  Sheldon is critical and unapologetic, but Penny begrudgingly tries to help Sheldon out, partly because she’s a good person, partly because she pities Sheldon, partly because she has nothing better to do.

Rejecting the classic Tennessee Williams play ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,’ Sheldon provides his own literary source for a scene exercise: a fanfic Star Trek episode he wrote in high school (We can now add teleplay production to the list of Sheldon’s failures). It’s your typical fan fiction; it’s written through the eyes of a fanboy, it treats the characters like infallible Gods, the plot revolves around the author who has inserted himself into the series, and the plot is a poorly-written catharsis for the author who cannot cope with his real world problems.

And what problems did Sheldon have in high school? Lots, considering his analytical scientific mind and nerdy interests were repressed by an overbearing, Christian mother, an alcoholic father, and his East-Texas environment. But Penny, ever the professional (for lack of a better word), soldiers on… and then stops. Quite literally, the episode ends here unresolved. Sheldon doesn’t learn how to act, he doesn’t learn how to interact with people, and he doesn’t learn how to teach students. The episode just stops. In essence, this entire plotline was a big, wet sack of pointless nothing.

Well, not entirely. Where tonight’s episode really shines is the B-story. Ever unlucky in love, Raj bemoans his eternally single status, seemingly unprovoked. Fortunately, ever the upper, Bernadette is nearby to give him kind words of support. She thinks Raj has massive sex appeal, and is a real hottie. Of course, Bernadette is in love with Howard, so her opinion should be taken with several, large grains of salt.

Despite having a doctorate, being gainfully employed, having close friends, numerous hobbies, and a childlike optimistic outlook on life, Raj still can’t get it together long enough to make forward strides in the world of romance. All his relationships seem to flounder in less than an episode. Perhaps that’s why he misinterprets Bernadette general friendly support as full-on flirting.

Throughout the episode, Raj has moments of fantasy where he and Bernadette wind up together. But, being the eggshell-walking awkward mess he is, Raj only imagines situations where Howard becomes permanently indisposed, then willingly allows Raj to begin canoodling Bernadette. Such instances include Howard being transferred to Israel and Raj being asked to treat Bernadette’s sudden onset nymphomania, Howard being in a car accident and surviving long enough to ask Raj to pursue Bernadette’s latent affections, and most spectacularly, a choreographed Bollywood dance number wherein Bernadette and Raj sing each others praises. I’m no psychiatrist, but anybody with such elaborate fantasies needs to get on medication, and fast.

While the B-story also ends without any semblance of resolution, it at least has the excuse of being a comedic distraction. We the viewer are expected to focus on the exploits of Sheldon and Penny, and simply follow Raj’s disturbing fantasies in brief intermissions. As such, Raj’s storyline gets a free pass for having no formal conclusion. All in all though, tonight’s episode was just pointless. Clearly there were ideas to be had, but none of them were executed to their full potential. Instead, we get jokes about India, Spock and the SyFy channel’s name. If the writers weren’t going to focus on preparing a quality episode, couldn’t they at least check to see how Twitter worked?

Over the past few months, I’ve heralded The Big Bang Theory for boldly exploring new territories without actually jumping the shark. And yet, despite my happiness for this development, tonight the show pulled a complete 180-degree turn, making all the changes for naught.

Tonight’s episode seemed eerily reminiscent of the first season: Penny was dating the latest in a series of interchangeable, boneheaded musclemen, the four lead geeks were involved in a very geeky hobby, and Leonard was sheepishly trying to find an opening to sweep Penny off her feet. Even new cast members Bernadette and Amy are nowhere to be seen. I honestly don’t know whether this episode was cryogenically frozen and thawed for tonight’s purposes, or if the writing staff simply chose to ignore the prior three seasons of development.

Penny’s blank-slate boyfriend is Zack, last seen in the Season 3 episode “The Lunar Excitation.” Zack was quickly made the butt-monkey of Howard, Raj, Sheldon and Leonard for his slow wit and vocal ignorance.  Memorably, he was unable to tell the difference between laser beams, death rays, and telescopes. The chiding continues in tonight’s episode as Zack’s intelligence is frequently likened to a dolphin’s… with the dolphin always coming out on top.

Penny puts the kibosh on the barbs and zingers, commenting on the hypocrisy of the four nerdy individuals shamelessly bullying someone inferior. Apologetic, Leonard makes amends with Zack, discovering they actually share a common interest: comic books. Sure, Leonard prefers standard superhero-based action stories and Zack leans towards the lighthearted adventures of Archie and the Riverdale gang, but it’s a start.

Pretty soon, the pair begins sharing other interests, such as the desire to cream the competition at a New Year’s costume party. Leonard practically drools at the opportunity to perfect his long-coveted Justice League team costume with Zack, an authentically muscular individual, playing Superman. Even better, if Penny would dress as Wonder Woman, they could win by default for bringing the only woman under 200 pounds.

But Penny isn’t interested. Leonard has forgotten all his interpersonal skills and is incapable of recognizing how deep a divide is forming between them. Penny wasn’t dating Zack for emotional reasons. She doesn’t love him, and can barely stand being around him. She just wanted someone to be with on New Year’s. Very humble plans, and yet, Leonard has single-handedly uprooted them entirely. Feeling obligated to stay behind, Zack bows out just hours before the party, reducing Leonard’s Dream Team of superheroes to “Skinny Flash, Indian Aquaman, near-sighted Green Lantern and a teeny-tiny Batman.”

Eventually, after a heart-to-heart with Penny, Leonard convinces her to come out and be sociable. Even more impressive, Leonard convinces her to do so in full Wonder Woman regalia. As I said, the entire episode is an unintentional callback to a simpler time. A time when the writers and producers of The Big Bang Theory didn’t know where to take their characters, or how to get them there. As such, the characters were free to stumble around and do whatever until something finally struck a chord with the audience. This explains why we are having such a formalist departure here and now. Once again, Leonard and Penny are back to their season one states with no apparent direction.

Where would they go from here? Either Leonard and Penny get back together, or they stay separated. Either way, we’re sailing charted waters. The Big Bang Theory may not have jumped the shark yet, but I hear the Jaws theme, and I see The Fonz trying on water skis.

Punchy is back. Punchy is Ted’s old friend whom he hasn’t seen in years. Ted called Punchy on a dare to prove they were still friends. Ted is now slated to be the best man at Punchy’s wedding. I tell you all of this because I am an idiot for not telling you before. I previously shrugged Punchy off as a meaningless character, until discovering he apparently will be an important element throughout the remainder of the season.

This week’s episode focused on the pregnancy/non-pregnancy of Lily and Marshall. As the title suggests (it’s the big, bold text near the top of the page), there was no actual baby conceived during tonight’s episode. The impact, however, was very real. When a friend goes through a monumental life change (such as having a child), those closest are forced to take stock of their life, to re-examine one’s priorities, and put things right.

As is the apparent new tradition on How I Met Your Mother, the episode diverges into three separate mini-arcs. The first involves Robin and her crisis of faith in employment. For years, Ms. Scherbatsky has struggled to make a name for herself in the world of television news. She’s had high points, such as anchoring the early early early morning news program, Metro News 1. She’s also had low points, such as honking her own breasts on live television for attention. But one thing remained absolute: come hell or high water, Robin would be a journalist.

Tonight, Robin gives up trying to become a journalist. After years of trying and failing, contending with everything from ornery monkeys to backstabbing co-hosts to adult diapers, Robin decides to pack it in and turn her attention to the world of game shows. Specifically, the hit TV game show Heads or Tails (still going strong with a special Million Dollar incarnation and new host Alex Trebek). Robin applies for the position of “Currency Rotation Specialist.” Or as Ted loving describes it, “Coin Flip Bimbo.”

Making Vanna White and the Price Is Right girls look like Rhodes Scholars, the job of a Coin Flip Bimbo is simple: 1) Flip the coin when instructed, 2) Do not flip the coin into anybody’s eye. Sadly, Robin’s predecessor was fired for violating both rules. Robin’s only other option was an off-camera research position at WorldWide News. But in Robin’s own words, that job “sounded really hard” and “(she) wouldn’t get to wear shiny dresses.”

Speaking of shiny clothing, Barney is ecstatic over his Christmas bonus. Drooling over a copy of Platinum Skymall, Barney boasts over what is destined to be the most frivolous purchase in recorded history. A suit, whose pinstripes are composed of 100% authentic diamonds, sewn into the fabric. It’s a suit of class, elegance, and luxury that will surely result in the funniest mugging since Marshall threw his wallet at a monkey. (Note: Lily and Marshall’s apprehension as parents comprise the third storyline, but does not need to be described at length.)

But both Robin and Barney’s plans are deterred upon hearing Lily and Marshall’s erroneously interpreted pregnancy. Realizing life is short and they aren’t the same foolish youngsters they once were, both spring into action. Robin quickly rejects her golden opportunity at Million Dollar Heads or Tails. Again, in her own words, “I don’t want to be sad Aunt Robin, the aging coin flip bimbo that gives her the creeps.  I want to be cool Aunt Robin, the respected journalist who gives her beer.” Barney, meanwhile, realizes his shallow ways are not as entertaining as they once were. Perhaps it’s time for him to change his ways, and contribute to charity, specifically the church run by his half-brother’s previously long-lost biological father (Ben Vereen reprises his role).

But swiftly, this character derailment is derailed itself. After consulting a gynecologist, Marshall and Lily inform their friends with a simultaneous text that the pregnancy was a false positive. Both Robin and Barney revert to their previous, short-sighted, selfish ways. Robin dives back headfirst into her stagnant world of lamé and sequined dresses, while Barney redacts his charitable offers.

Only Ted is left to pick up the shambles. Being informed his primary goal as a groom’s best man is repeatedly convincing the groom that marriage is a good decision, Ted takes his duties a tad too far, intervening and keeping everybody on the straight and narrow. In one glorious minute, Ted reminds Robin she has more to offer than being a coin-flipping floozy, and she is a good journalist. He tells Barney to stop being such a jackass for one day in his narcissistic life, and actually help others in need. He reminds Marshall and Lily how happy they were during their brief window of pregnancy, and encourages the couple to keep trying. Even Punchy calls Ted up with cold feet, and Ted knocks some sense back into him.

Sometimes gratification is best when deferred. Robin is not immediately happy working off-camera as a researcher, but holding her long-coveted press pass brings a smile to her face. Lily and Marshall ran themselves ragged preparing for a non-existent child, but with the initial panic gone, the pair can take a level-headed approach in the near future. Even Barney makes an investment in himself by donating the entirety of his five-figured Christmas bonus to the church… minus the cost of several dozen gifts and lapdances for the patrons of MacLaren’s Pub.

And in keeping with the Christmas spirit, Barney adds a personal bonus. As part of a charity drive to help clothe the homeless, Barney selflessly donates over forty suits from his own personal wardrobe. It’s a touching tribute for the holiday season, one keeping in theme with both the episode and the series as a whole. It proves quite definitively: TV characters don’t need to rip off It’s a Wonderful Life, they just have to realize life is wonderful.

There’s nothing quite like a perfectly implemented guest star. It can rekindle interest in a fledging franchise or breathe new life into an already strong TV show. How I Met Your Mother has had mixed results with their guest stars. Bob Barker, Danica McKellar and Tim Gunn are among the best. Britney Spears and Jennifer Lopez, contrary to what the producers repeatedly insist, are among the worst. But tonight, a new contender is added to the upper echelon. A man whose reputation precedes him so vastly, his face alone can sell Weezer albums. The one and only: Jorge Garcia.

We all know Mister Garcia from his stint as Hugo “Hurley” Reyes on Lost. In addition… Well, frankly that’s all anyone needs. In fact, because I forget his character’s actual name in tonight’s episode, I’ll refer to him as Hurley from this point onward. Of course, this seems the intention of the producers; when asked for a set of random numbers, Hurley immediately interjects with “4 8 15 16 23 42.”

The subject of tonight’s episode is “The Blitz.” A special type of curse, The Blitz is any person who routinely misses out on wild escapades by leaving a party early, stepping outside for air, or simply turning their heads at the wrong moment. Hurley was a college-friend of Ted and Marshall, and was the designated Blitz for the entire university. Every time Hurley ducked out early for hilariously outdated video games, he missed out on a lifetime of “nip slips, crotch shots, shooting stars and double rainbows.”

But Ted’s pompous and somewhat matronly nature got the better of him tonight. In his attempt to cook the perfect Turturkeykey (A variation on the turducken; a turkey cooked inside a larger turkey), Ted left MacLaren’s Pub early to brine his meaty monstrosity. Unbeknownst to him, doing so initiated the passing of The Blitz. With Ted’s departure, a night of drunken debauchery, mayhem and frivolity commenced. There was even a skateboarding dog! Hilarious!

Like any good story, the beauty was all in the details. Numerous traffic pylons, a parking meter, and a hot dog cart decorate Ted’s apartment. Barney is passed out with an accomplished look on his face, while Robin’s face is painted like Kiss’ Paul Stanley. Marshall and Lily are obsessed with a top hat and shouting “The Gentlemen!” (I smell a new running gag). The antics are so wild, even Zoey got wrapped up in the shenanigans.

Yes, Ted’s self-appointed nemesis, Zoey, has endeared herself to Ted’s close-knit group of friends. Amidst the partying, Zoey offered a reluctant, but wholehearted invitation for Thanksgiving to her new friends. Against her better judgment, she even extends the invitation to Ted. Spending a civil evening with her adversary isn’t exactly her idea of a perfect holiday, but at the very least, she could infect Ted with smallpox should the evening take a dire turn.

Ted, however, is a man of scruples; his pride would never allow him to accept the invitation. Besides, even if Ted was cursed as the new Blitz, he considers it a small sacrifice for the idealized culinary perfection that is the turturkeykey. Even if everyone in attendance is repulsed by the abomination of one turkey inside another, larger turkey. Even if the stuffing of the bird required non-traditional instruments such as shoehorns. Even if the basic laws of physics state there is no way the inner turkey could be fully cooked without reducing the outer turkey to a blackened char.

Tragically, Ted’s oven is out of commission. During the previous night’s tomfoolery, the oven door snapped off after Robin attempted to dance on it. In an attempt to relocate, Ted and company efforts are hindered after learning Barney does not actually own an oven (just an active gas line being pumped into a cardboard display). Meanwhile, Marshall and Lily’s apartment downwind from the sewage treatment plant has been negatively affected by fumes from the sewage treatment plant. As for Hurley, his numerous pet cats have been using the oven as a litter box.

Begrudgingly, Ted & Co. are forced to accept Zoey’s offer. A lot more happens, including Barney being curse with The Blitz, Zoey revealing she’s in an icy relationship with her step-daughter, and Robin forming a deeply intimate crush on a stranger who texted Marshall a photo of his genitals, lovingly dubbed “Wang Guy.” My recap abilities cannot do the third act’s impeccably timed jokes, hijinks and dramatic revelations justice. What is important is Ted’s philosophical struggle upon whether enemies can ever be friends.

As it turns out, yes. Yes they can. Beneath their stubborn exteriors, their clashing worldviews, and their troubled pasts, Zoey and Ted are able to put aside their differences in the name of Thanksgiving. Whether or not this amiability will carry over to the rest of the year is undecided. All I know for sure, tonight’s episode was chock full of hilarity, and a very entertaining jaunt. I should end this article soon, as I’m running out of synonyms for “antics,” but one loose end remains. After missing the opportunity to glimpse a voluptuous vixen losing her dress in a set of elevator doors, Hurley is forced back into his eternal position as The Blitz. But, buck up Hurley. As you yourself once said: There is no curse. You make your own luck.

I have a very strong affection for movies. I wouldn’t classify myself as an addict (although my father would argue different), just a healthy, dedicated patron to cinema and the world surrounding it. As such, it warms the cockles of my heart anytime those around me express their love of movies, even if they’re fictional characters from a TV show.

The main cast of The Big Bang Theory have shown obsessive, geeky devotion to a number of subjects. Mathematics, card games, kites… I’m sure there’s a full list somewhere online. But tonight, for all intents and purposes, they were film geeks like me. The film in question was Raiders of the Lost Ark, which was showing for a one-night limited engagement. The first film in the Indiana Jones saga isn’t a geeky film in any sense, but one of Hollywood’s finest. It is the definitive action movie. Perhaps for empathy’s sake, the writers wanted a crossover film everybody could identify; the type of mass appreciation not attainable with cult classics such as Flash Gordon or Serenity.

Sheldon is normally the most nit-picky member of the group; his adherence to arbitrary protocol (usually protocol he himself creates) shames anal-retentive individuals everywhere. But tonight, he was the voice of reason. Raiders of the Lost Ark is a very popular film; it would be folly not to get tickets in advance. But Leonard, Raj and Howard want nothing to do with Sheldon’s worrywart tendencies.

As predicted by Sheldon, the show did indeed sell out. Many, many people turned out to see the midnight movie, selling out the theater moments before their own admittance. The much-hyped additional 21-seconds of footage brought forth every Indiana Jones loving cinephile in southern California, and every one of them queued up while Sheldon and company dined at The Cheesecake Factory. The misfortune is only amplified with a gloating Wil Wheaton taunting from the front of the line.

(Note: The 21 seconds of footage purportedly resolved the “highly controversial submarine paradox.” In a moment of simultaneous film-loving pride and shame, I know exactly what they are referencing. After the Nazis steal the Ark of the Covenant from a cargo ship, they load it onto a submarine. In pursuit, Indiana Jones discreetly swims onto the submarine, which then submerges with Indy clinging to the hull… and then the film cuts to reveal Indiana Jones watching the ark being unloaded at a secret base. The deleted scene reveals the submarine never fully submerged, and Indy simply rode on the outside of the u-boat for the entire trip.)

While it is fun having an entire episode of a TV show catered to my specific interests, it’s a double-edged sword. For every reference to the film community, I spy a factual error or plot hole. Most egregious among these being why nobody in attendance would consider to reserve tickets online or in advance. Second, why would everybody be waiting in line in the first place? Wouldn’t the line for tickets and the line for entrance be two separate lines? Wouldn’t the ticket vendor hang a sign clearly stating when the show was sold out, so as not to waste the time of those waiting? And finally, with such a steep difference between supply and demand, how could there not be a single ticket scalper?

As passionate as I am about film, it’s countered by tonight’s b-story, concerning girls’ slumber parties, a subject I know and care little about. I’ve speculated before Melissa Rauch and Mayim Bialik were destined for the full-time cast, thus stabilizing the guy/girl ratio and opening new possibilities for story lines. Tonight my theories were proven valid. Both actresses have officially been added to the main cast, and the first plot line devoted solely to the fairer sex was enacted.

It goes as smoothly as one would expect; Penny invites Bernadette to a girls’ night. Amy, not understanding the concepts of invitations, forces herself into the event and slowly converts it into a slumber party. The laughs are plentiful and character-driven, which is always a plus. However, the storyline did bring to light one issue this season has been dancing around. In a methodic game of truth or dare, Amy addresses the all-important elephant in the room: What is Penny’s opinion of Leonard, post-breakup?  Sadly, we never get an answer; Penny runs crying from the room without any resolution. Coincidentally, the boys’ story provides no resolution either. Simply, Sheldon steals the Raiders of the Lost Ark reels from the theater in spite, and is then chased by an angry, Wheaton-led mob.

In conclusion, tonight’s episode of The Big Bang Theory is distilled sitcom concentrate. The jokes are good, the laughs fly quickly, the plot progresses fast, an inkling of the season-length storyline is addressed, but pushed aside for more wacky shenanigans. It’s not a terrible by any means, but too frenetic to be considered great. It bounces around like a six year-old on a sugar high. Really, it’s the perfect episode to show someone who’s unfamiliar with the series and needs a sample. Or instead, it’s the perfect episode for a hater to begrudgingly watch while in the dentist’s waiting room. I may be over thinking and over analyzing this, but that’s just my nature as a film fan.

I’m going to be honest: I dislike Zoey. Her purpose is clear; she was created to be antagonistic, to personify the nagging doubts of Ted and his architectural pursuits, but she just isn’t an identifiable character. There is no real motivation for any of her actions, and no real rationale for her hatred. How I Met Your Mother isn’t a shining beacon of reality, but they’ve never stooped so low before to cast a real-life, female Snidely Whiplash.

Tonight’s episode was all about the villains in our lives, be they be adversaries to overcome, forces to conquer, or just our own personal demons.  During a black-tie gala honoring Goliath National Bank at the Natural History Museum, who should we find but Zoey. For reasons of plot convenience, Zoey has set aside her political beliefs to hobnob with the upper crust of GNB. But Zoey isn’t the only recurring villain to appear tonight. In addition, there’s Arthur, Marshall’s no-nonsense boss and occasionally psychotic tormentor.

It’s an interesting comparison; Zoey’s completely laughable antagonistic endeavors compared to the powerful in-your-face techniques of Arthur. Arthur is a believable enemy. He has reasons for his actions, and he’s an intimidating presence, even when he’s not “on.” Zoey is less subtle than an elephant eating Pop Rocks. Even more interesting is the third “villain” introduced to the mix, a former college friend of Arthur’s and husband to Zoey, his sole purpose in tonight’s episode is to caricaturize the concept of aristocratic villainy: Captain George Van Smoot.

Pause for a minute. Let that name sink in. Captain George Van Smoot. Channeling Judge Smails from Caddyshack along with every other pompous, aristocratic villain in film history, Captain George puts both Arthur and Zoey to shame. Whereas Zoey is a comical overstatement of villainy on accident, Captain George is the quintessential hyperbolic villain by design. With his constant bragging about his Ivy League upbringing, his constant belittling of everybody within earshot, his insistence on being called “Captain” paired with his out-of-place nautically-themed wardrobe, The Captain is immediately disliked, feared,               and oddly respected by everyone.

But villains aren’t solely people. Sometimes villains are ideas, or restrictions. Barney, king of the self-purported urban legend (and self-purported urban legend himself) recants a museum-themed tale from his child. Apparently, at age seven, Barney visited the museum with his Uncle Jerry and destroyed a blue whale. Although, Barney admits, it wasn’t his fault. The fault lies with his Uncle Jerry, who warned him not to touch anything. Telling a seven year-old not to touch something is only slightly less inviting than dousing it in sugar, strapping it to a puppy, and forcing it into the child’s hands. Old habits die hard; after being surrounded by signs warning him not to touch, Barney and Robin snap and set out to touch everything in the museum.

Sometimes a person can be their own villain. While it’s been long-established Marshall dreams of working as an environmental lawyer, this personality trait has been seemingly abandoned until Lily’s unprovoked mention of it tonight. As it turns out, Marshall has long since abandoned this dream. Working in a steady job, raising capitol, and preparing for a family trump any pie-in-the-sky aspirations he once had. Never mind he has epitomized everything he hates. Never mind he has sold out his principles. Never mind his college-aged self would never look his current self in the eyes.

In a previous episode (Okay Awesome), Lily had an equal crisis of conscience. She believed because she was an adult, it was time to pursue more adult interests and beliefs. But, after a night of clubbing, she realized her rationale was folly. Being a grown-up is a tautology; when you’re an adult, you decide what being an adult means. Lily can’t convince Marshall to abandon his new corporate ethos, but she reluctantly accepts his decision, however destructive it is.

Ted, meanwhile, continues to spar with his concrete villains. Zoey’s ever-present tape recorder captures Ted confessing his hatred for GNB, calling them all “Wieners and Gonads.” Feeling sorry for the forlorn Ted, The Captain opens up. In a surprising show of solidarity, The Captain offers to erase the tapes, but Ted declines. He admits he doesn’t actually hate Zoey, but actually considers her a strong woman and respects her.

Despite the major character advancements of Marshall and Ted, the biggest bombshell comes from the most unlikely source. Robin and Barney’s subplot seemed inconsequential; the most lighthearted night at a museum since Ben Stiller’s. After their incarceration, Barney’s whale-demolishing urban legend is confirmed by the museum guard. In 1981, little Barney Stinson destroyed the blue whale exhibit, and was released from the museum in the custody of his father, Jerome Whittaker.

As it happens, Barney’s Uncle Jerry claimed to be his father that day. To Barney’s recollection, Uncle Jerry spent a lot of time with him as a child. Then he had an argument with Barney’s mother, and wasn’t seen again. Barney sits in shock as he takes the information in. Uncle Jerry is Barney’s elusive, undiscovered father.

They say the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. On the contrary; you can never truly know a villain. Barney’s villain was the anonymous face of museum authority, but it proved to be a hero in ways he could never imagine. Marshall’s villain in college was exactly who he wants to be now. As for Ted, his villains turned out to be nonexistent. Despite his appearance and attitude, The Captain turned out to be a very amiable person. In addition, due to an architectural quirk in the museum, Zoey heard every kind word Ted said about her. Zoey erases her tapes and promises to stop fighting dirty. But if the lingering eye contact and lilting music are any indication, their romantic tension could prove to be the greatest villain yet.