Ringer is the television equivalent of a dysfunctional relationship: one week they’re taking you to the opera in your pretty red gown, the next they’re vandalizing your giant narcissistic glamour shot with the word ‘Bitch.’ Last week was a televisual crapfest that made me question everything I knew and loved; this week the show was back in top form. It’s just about enough whiplash to make you forget all the pseudonyms on the show, but I much prefer this Ringer.

Let’s break it down. Readers Beware: Redheads ahoy. [Read more…]