Episode Report Card Jacob Clifton: A+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT You're Not The One For Me, Fatty
By Jacob Clifton | Season 3 | Episode 8 | Aired on 11.13.2008
Wilhelmina's wearing a huge white fur and red dress, and spots Connor when the elevator doors open. She tries to close the doors on him, but she's too late, and they ride together with a wolf prowling the background on the video screen. He asks about the retreat and she tells him, again correctly, that this is an exercise for people too dumb to get out of it, and he orders her to come. When she reminds him that he's her employee, he drops to one improbable knee and kisses her hand, telling her that her brand of leadership is exactly what they need. Wili feels the pangs of emotion or whatever, and it causes her to walk kind of crooked.
Marc's looking adorable in a cute sweater vest, sweet Peter Pan collar, bizarre complicated necklace like something from a forgotten metalworking civilization, and straightened emo hair that makes him look older and younger at once. Amanda descends on him like a crazy Valkyrie ("So, Bridezilla...") and starts nattering about the big gay guilt wedding. He changes the subject to her hair, producing a tiny curling iron and telling her she's frizzy. She looks totally amazing with bright red lips and hair piled up to compliment the naughty librarian thing she's working, but she sits obediently. She realizes he's changing the subject, and catches us up on how he's all gay and stuff, and he changes the subject again to what games they'll play while the bosses are gone. His first choice? Making the temps kiss each other. God I love Marc and Amanda. Why didn't we ever think of that?
Amanda asks if Marc's punishing her for her stance on gay marriage, which she corrects saying she only disapproves in the case of unattractive gays, and besides, unattractive Cliff is growing on her. This makes Marc's stomach hurt, of course, due to his slut spiral and panic proposal last week, but luckily he's saved by a summons from Wili. Breezing into her office, he's shocked into a scream by the large gun pointed at his head, and hides behind a sheer curtain. She doesn't drop her weapon, awesomely, and keeps it pointed at Marc's pretty little head while she complains about the enraging Connor: "He's so self-confident! He won't listen! And he's not afraid of me!" Marc automatically says he's afraid of her, and she snorts that she doesn't need a gun for Marc. "Five little words and I could make you pee your pants." I want to know those words! She is magic!
Marc asks if Connor's still getting under her skin, and she whines and stretches out on a chaise, with Marc on the rug beside her like a setter, and starts talking about how Connor has that unknown fiancée: no doubt twentysomething, fabulous, European and thin. Marc immediately says Wili's all of those things, even though that doesn't make sense, and offers to get her a room on the opposite side of the lodge. "Thank God it's hunting season," Wili muses: "If I can't be with the man I want, at least I can kill something." Dude, that is exactly what my last week has been like, you have no idea.