Episode Report Card Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Sex Is Like A Misdemeanor
By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 19 | Aired on 04.24.2004
Shockingly enough, there's no opening travelogue to waste precious moments of airtime this evening. Instead, we fade right up on the sun-drenched Manor façade the following morning. Up in the kitchen, Phoebe's wearing a tight, eye-scorching creation in deep red that features an enormous and fuzzy grey-and-black fleur-de-lis stretched across the Fun Bags, accessorized by opera-length arm warmers with matching fleurs-de-lis patterns at the wrists. A pyjama-clad Raige sleepily wanders into the room from the main hall to fetch herself some coffee and genially wonders how Phoebe's date went the previous evening. Phoebe, who's been mixing some sort of potion on the stove during all of this, admits she had a good time, but she realizes last night's chump is not the man of her dreams. And how does she know this? She forced another premonition, of course, and saw nothing in their future but sex. Not that she has anything against sex, mind you, but if you're not the father of the child she's anticipating as the result of her stupid vision quest a couple of months ago, Phoebe doesn't have time for you. To that end, she's concocting a potion that should make it easier for her to force yet another premonition on her lunch date that afternoon. "I want to make sure I get a hit off of him before the entrees come," she explains. "No sense wasting those calories." Oy. Not for nothing, hag, but that bony ass of yours could use a little extra padding. In fact, you might recall me mentioning this fact, oh, five or six hundred times over the last three years. Anorexic shrew. Raige, far more concerned about Phoebe's blatant disregard of the prohibition on personal gain, scratches her head and asks, "Does it even matter to you that you're breaking every Wiccan rule that exists?" And she shouldn't have mentioned the Wiccan Rede, because unless I'm misunderstanding it, Phoebe's not really contravening its central tenet. However. This show has its own Rede, which goes something like, "An it make no sense, do what ye will," so I suppose we can all join Raige in hating Phoebe for acting like a self-absorbed moron. Again.
As Phoebe reminds us all that Piper's chosen to confine herself to Not!warts for the remainder of her pregnancy, my pretty, pretty husband orbs in from upstairs in search of the Book of Shadows and dear God, what is that he's wearing? It looks like the top half of a peach-colored union suit with a red neckline and cuffs, and it's got this bizarre placket thing going on from the neck to the mid-chest. Chris, honey. Do not be following the fashion lead of my in-laws, okay? You look like a jackass. A very pretty jackass, but still. In any event, Big Gay Chris has been working his demonic connections as of late, as he has a new "theory" on who might be trying to turn his dead-eyed sociopath of an older brother to the dark side. "Oh!" Raige snarks. "A new theory! What's that, like, the third one this week?" "Are you keeping score now?" Chris pisses back without missing a beat. "You have to admit," Raige grumps, "you've had a lot of different theories lately, and none of them have panned out." "That's why they call them theories," Chris snits. No, Chris, that's why they call them conjecture, but I suppose that's not important, for Raige chooses to retort, "Do we even get along in the future?" and I'm forced to remind her once again that no, she does not get along with her nephew in the future, because SHE'S DEAD.