This episode opens with some guy handing Ally a cappuccino. She takes it and walks away from the counter, showing us the back of her black leather jacket. The guy stares at her moonily for a moment before removing his apron, hopping over the counter, and telling her that he's desperate for her to know his name. It's Hammond Dearing. Okay, great. Then he asks her if they've ever met or seen each other before. She doesn't think so. Hammond Dearing tells us that he's been serving her coffee every day for three months and he was hoping maybe she'd pause to look at his face once. Ally tries to give him the brush-off, but he's really persistent. He asks her to dinner. She tells him he's annoying her. He suddenly kisses her. She's not pleased. Hammond! Only in the car wash, buddy! He says his ex told him he was a good kisser, so he figured he's use his strengths. What a dude. Ally tells him it's a good thing he makes a cold cappuccino. Then she pours hers on his head. "And, um, your ex?" says Ally. "She lied." D'oh! And, um, Ally? That would have been a funny scene if we didn't already know what a desperate skag you are. Like maybe Hammond should have screamed obscenities at you. Then you'd be buying him cappuccino, right?
Vonda's been down this road. So have I. I always carry a motion-sickness bag. Good thing, too. The Victoria's Secret commercial is followed by one for a movie that looks utterly imbecilic. What Planet Are You From? Even the title sucks.
In the Unisex, Nelle expresses wonder at the "little foamy" asking Ally out. The two of them are having a contest to see who can be the thinnest but still wear a shirt that's tight across the bust. Nelle supposes that Hammond Cappuccino Server thought Ally was "a waitress or something." Nelle adds, "Nothing worse than getting hit on by one of the little people." Okay, so guess who was overhearing this while experiencing a bowel movement. You're right. It was John. He gives Nelle a penetrating look. "John. Sweetie. Fly," she tells him. Heh. He zips up and asks if she dislikes little people. She clarifies -- not little as in short...little as in janitor, cappuccino maker. John asks if she'd date him if he himself was a janitor. Nelle saves herself trouble for the moment by reassuring him that she would. Richard bursts in and asks Ally whether the lesbians are there yet. Ally points out that only one lesbian is "due in." Ally asks The Question: Why are men so interested in lesbians? I lean forward to hear David E. Kelley's explanation. Richard counters with a question of his own. You know what lesbians do when they're alone together? They have sex! (Oh!) Ally points out that heterosexual women have sex, too. Richard says there's nothing special about a woman interacting with a penis unless it's "your own." Elaine steps in to tell Richard and Ally that their ten o-clock has arrived. The three of them exit, Richard's suit contrasting strangely with Ally's stretchy aqua top. John takes the opportunity to delve deeper into Nelle's attitude toward janitors. Nelle asks him if he's date a "janitette." He says he would. Nelle accuses him of chauvinism, saying that he'd date any woman who was beautiful.
Ally and Richard are meeting with a divorced or divorcing couple. The man is suing the woman for fraud because she's a lesbian. Richard keeps interrupting their arguing so that he can try to satisfy his lewd curiosity. Georgia's representing the lesbian. Ally and Richard have offered to settle for forty thousand, but Georgia's won't hear of it. So they're going to appeals. I half-expected Ally to send Georgia on a guilt trip about their "friendship," but it didn't happen.
Now it's night. Ally's back at the cappuccino place, and the same guy's still working there. They snipe at each other and then Hammond tries to reason with her. Ally threatens to call the manager. Hammond suggests she call the owner, or better yet, let him buy her dinner. He owns that store and three others. Ally is surprised. Hammond is smug and assumes that she'll reconsider now that she knows he's not "the majordomo." Ally says it was wrong of her to dump a cappuccino on his head...he should get chocolate. She dumps on him the mocha-whatever he just served her. So that's how she keeps her girlish figure!
Billy's in his office, pretending to work. Sandy brings him some divorce papers, then turns to go. Billy calls her back. She babbles about the tragedy that is divorce and offers to be there for him if he needs to talk. "You don't want to talk about what I'm dying to talk about, Sandy," says Bill. Well, good, because I don't, either. But dense Sandy asks, "What?" all wide-mouthed innocence. "Nothing," says Billy. Maybe he'll meet her down at the bar. Sandy makes her Face of Great Seriousness, closes his office door, and asks, "What?" again. Billy tells her that his attraction to her is no secret and it would be stupid and unprofessional to...he goes home and doesn't miss Georgia -- he misses Sandy! He's even put up Ally's picture and tried to miss her, but to no avail. Dude -- strap it to your leg, would you? He jokes that with a good lawyer, Sandy could sue him. It would have been funny if she'd said, "Why? Do you know one?" Sandy walks up to him with her do-me-but-please-be-gentle doe eyes and touches his cheek. "It wouldn't be a good idea," she says. "No, it wouldn't," Billy agrees. They start sucking face. The piano and oboe play as if this is a couple I should care about. I'm not fooled, though.
Good lord. I've got to stop eating burgers before recapping, especially if my tapes are going to include commercials for Michael Douglas movies, followed by the car commercial that bastardizes Stereolab. I'm getting an ulcer. From now on I only eat antacids.
It's the day and we're forced to see Billy and Sandy again. She's handing him papers to sign and running off. He asks with a smirk if they're gonna talk about it. She'd rather not, because she thinks it was a mistake. Billy starts to demur. She stamps her (undoubtedly little) foot and says that she thinks it was a mistake. He asks why and she points out all the reasons she'd be the biggest idiot in the world to get involved with him. She asks if they can forget last night ever happened. Billy trades his smirk for a sad clown face and says he will. Sandy peels out. Billy continues to look sad.
In the courtroom, Richard confides in Ally and John that he has a fetish for lesbians, that the pioneer in him is attracted to uncharted territory. Ally tells him to quit his nonsense because she's nervous enough as it is. She's gasping and trembling as they discuss their strategy. Georgia's all smiles on the other side of the room. Everyone rises for the judges. The first one is very elderly. The second is a middle-aged woman. The third is -- guess who. Can you guess? It's the Honorable Hammond Dearing. Wow. What a surprise. These shocking entrances never get old, do they? Ally freaks, mouth agape. Judge Dearing immediately states for the record that he asked Ally out twice and she "twice dumped espresso roast" on his head. Well, was it cappuccino or espresso? I never drink the stuff, but I think there's a difference, isn't there? I'm just calling it coffee from now on.
Judge Dearing asks Georgia if she's okay with his sitting in this case. She's okay. Then he asks John & Co. Ally asks if he, Hammond, can be unbiased. He says that he can. John whispers to Ally that he's the most progressive judge on the case, so Ally says she's fine with his being there. Whatever. Ally, in her three- or four-inch heels, begins to argue that the lesbian defrauded her husband by not telling him that she was gay. Of course Judge Hammond starts shooting her down on every point like he's getting Georgia's salary. I guess it's revenge time. There's a lot of arguing about heterosexuality vs homosexuality as they concern lack of sex in a marriage. Ally starts choking and making herself look bad. She ends up sarcastically suggesting that they go out for coffee. She snaps at John. John's nose whistles. Judge Hammond sums up Ally's point for her: She believes a person has a legal obligation to disclose homosexual tendencies before getting married. Ally agrees with his paraphrase. He denies the motion to annul the marriage.
Judge Hammond retires to his office. Ally follows him. He asks her to leave. She wants to know "what is the deal" with his working at the coffee shop. He righteously points out that he can work in one if he wants without telling people he's a judge. He sarcastically asks if she considers that fraud. She says he's biased. He says her motion was a waste of the court's time. Ally argues, calling him "Your Anus." He argues. Ally calls him a pig. He puts her in contempt of court. She says that'll keep her up nights. He calls Security to have her jailed. He tells her that she can dump coffee on him when he's a civilian, but she has to respect him as a judge. She says he's a horrible judge. He slams the door and looks disconcerted, but we know that he secretly loves Ally McBeal, just like every other man on earth does. We know because the oboe tells us so.
Sandy's washing her hands in the Unisex. John's remote flusher precedes him. He asks her if she's okay. She says she is and walks out as Nelle walks in. Nelle brushes past her without a word, telling John that she's ready to go to the bar. John asks Nelle who was just in the Unisex with them. Nelle doesn't know Sandy's name, only that she's Billy's secretary. Nelle's wearing a NASTY red, pink, and purple striped turtleneck body-suit thing. She leaves to meet him at the bar. John muses.
Down at the bar, Richard's lamenting that he didn't get to touch his client's ex. Ling assures him that another lesbian will come along. Elaine informs them that Ally's in jail. The geeky twins ask Ling to dance. Ling says that's sweet, but she's busy this lifetime. Elaine goes with them to the floor. Ling remarks on the cruel joke that God played by making two of them. Billy joins Sandy at a table for two. What, she hangs at that same bar but doesn't sit with her co-workers? I guess Nelle's not the only snob working there. Billy can't pretend the kissage with Sandy didn't happen. Sandy asks if he's just looking for a pretty smile with no complications. He admits he might just be looking for a dance. I guess that's another metaphor for "quick sex." He's looking to be "adored a little." If he was her brother or her friend, he'd give her a million reasons not to dance with the guy sitting across from her. As the guy sitting across with her, he asks her to dance. What a piece of cheese. Meanwhile Sandy's looking like this tripe melts her core. Pathetic, I tell you. She takes his hand and kisses his cheek. Then she tells him goodnight. Ha! Okay, I can still almost like her for a while.
I prefer Milla Jovovich as a blonde and Sarah Michelle Gellar as a brunette. I just thought y'all would appreciate knowing that.
Ally's in her jail cell, dabbing her nose firmly with a tissue. Judge Hammond shows up with the guard and tells her that an apology will get her out. Ally apologizes thusly: "I'm deeply sorry you're such an ass." Ha. The guard lets Hammond into the cell and walks away. I guess that's not illegal or anything. Hammond and Ally snipe at each other. Ally asks about his coffee shop employment again. He says something ridiculous about connecting with the "people on the street." Ally asks why he sexually assaulted her with his kiss. Hammond says that she seemed vile and he still had a trace of the flu, so he thought he'd try to infect her. Ha, ha. More sniping. Then Hammond sentences Ally to community service -- at his coffee shop. His staff is out sick. Oh, sure. There's no way that's illegal, right? Ally refuses at first, but you can tell she's intrigued and interested in hooking up with this guy, now that he's abused her a little.
John sulks in his office. Nelle walks in because she thought he was going to meet her at the bar. She wants him to hurry because she's being "hit on left and right." John says, "Not by any janitors, I hope." Nelle asks what his problem is. "You're an elitist, Nelle," he tells her, all blunt-like. "And?" says Nelle. Oh, man. Her nasty striped turtleneck is a whole dress. John is bothered by her drawing of class distinctions. Nelle is unfazed. She prefers men with ambition. She doesn't see John "chasing after shoe-shine girls"...unless they're cute. She points out that John immediately gave her his respect because she was beautiful. She calls him a hypocrite, saying that men make class distinctions all the time, but with body parts. I can't really argue with her. She says judging by job titles makes more sense. John struggles on, saying that Nelle doesn't even know Sandy's name. Nelle says he wouldn't either, if she weren't so pretty. Word. I don't like snobs, but she ain't lying. Then she reminds him that they fell for each other's packaging -- why should they apologize for it? John has his angry face on. Without responding to any of her slams against him, he prissily states, "You should apologize for it." Nelle looks right into his goofy face and says, "Well, I don't." He stalks out. She repeats to herself that she doesn't. Way to stick to it, Nelle. Now break up with whiny John and do your hair like the cosmetician in Stigmata!
Hammond and Ally work at the coffee shop. They obviously enjoy each other's company. Sandy comes in for a small decaf and, unwittingly, for advice from Ally. Ally guesses that she's having problems with a guy. Sandy explains that it's a guy just coming through a divorce. She likes him, but doesn't want to be his rebound. Ally asks what the guy says. Sandy claims that he says, "All the right things." Yeah, for a '50s teen novel, maybe. Sandy admits that it's Billy. Ally is surprised. She points out that she's Georgia's friend (Whatever! Dang. Get off it!) and then gives Sandy Secretary a pep talk anyway. She says Billy's special and if there's a chance that he's the one, Sandy should go for it. At least she qualifies it by saying first that she's the last person to give advice about love or anything. Hammond eavesdrops and seems moved by Ally's little speech.
Vonda sings and John does an "angry dance" with a feather duster. Gosh, these quirks are hilarious. Richard watches him for a while, prompting the warped-record sound. John yells that he's angry. It's supposed to be funny, but it isn't at all. Then he tells Richard that Nelle is a "rich bitch elitist snob." Wow. DEK has managed to call another woman a bitch. How saucy. How does he shoehorn them in? Of course I don't even have the right to be angry, because he let Nelle get in so many put-downs on John earlier. I guess I should just smile, learn that we're all bitches, and buy the pretty things I see on the commercials. Richard points out that it'd be worse to go home and find Nelle with a janitor. "Oh, balls!" says John. Oh, shut up, John. They plop down on the couch so that Richard can deliver his sermon of the week on women. The gist is that John is a non-handsome, short, funny, little man whose equalizer is money. ("Let's say it again. Money. Let's go for the trilogy. Money.") He says John should be grateful instead of condemning Nelle for her values, because without them, he never would have stood a chance of "getting her." John thanks him dryly for the fresh perspective. Greg Germann is cute.
We're "treated" to Vonda singing that java-jav song while Ally and Hammond continue to work at the coffee shop. Afterwards they walk home, I guess, and Ally says that "it's better than practicing law -- you just give your client a cup of coffee and he walks away!" "Satisfied!" adds Hammond. I'll excuse Ally because it's only her first day, but I must assume that Hammond doesn't do this sort of work as often as he'd like us to believe. I want to hear from them after they've been (a) yelled at by clients having a bad day, (b) vehemently accused of purposely short-changing the client by five cents, (c) reported to their supervisors for not unlocking the drink machine and serving the client after hours, (d) reprimanded by their supervisors for not doing whatever it takes to make the customer happy, (e) called bitches, or (f) forced to stay an hour or two after closing to clean up overflowing machinery. Until they deal with these realities on a regular basis, I'll thank them not to romanticize food-service work while I'm watching the show. Ally and Hammond stop at her door, and he asks her out again. She agrees to go out the night. She shakes his hand instead of letting him kiss her. He kisses her, anyway. They say goodnight and she hops up the steps. He calls out to her. He asks her if she really believed what she was saying about her case. She did. In the spirit of honesty, then, he says, "I'm bisexual." Cut to Ally's frozen face. Cut to Hammond's observing one. One more shot of Ally, still, frozen, and then we're good to go to commercial.
Haven't there been more commercials than usual? I wasn't planning on buying a Volkswagen anytime soon -- especially since that Stereolab commercial -- but now that I'm seeing one spin around and hop all over the screen, I think I'm ready to cough up the cash!
In Ally's office, she and Elaine discuss Hammond. Elaine frets on her friend's behalf, saying, "This is worse than the last one -- he just turned out to be homeless." Whatever. Ally asks her if Elaine would date a bisexual guy. "Yes," purrs Elaine, rolling her hips and caressing herself. "So why are you seeing this as such a crisis?" asks Ally, except she pronounces it "crises." Elaine says she's trying to look at it through Ally's eyes. She asks when Ally's seeing him again. Ally says tonight. Elaine asked because he's there, at the door. D'oh. "Hammond! Bi!" says Ally, and then corrects herself: "Hi! Hello." Hardy har. Hammond couldn't sleep. He wants to talk. Elaine has to be shooed. Hammond says that Ally looked a little thrown. Ally jokes that she's so sick and tired of guys telling her at the end of the date that they're bi. He says she's covering. She admits she was thrown. He asks what the deal is. She says that she doesn't date so much as audition potential husbands. Pathetic, much? He very astutely asks her why she sees no potential in a bisexual man. Ally says that she associates bisexuality with a life of promiscuity. She would worry that a bisexual man would have needs she couldn't fulfill. She doesn't want to imagine her husbands checking out the "glutes" at her son's ball game. She's nervous about her kids being teased because of their father's sexual orientation. She's "worried about diseases." She supposes she's far more homophobic than she ever imagined. Whatever. Whatever, whatever. She should just say, "David E. Kelly is turned on by lesbians but not by gay men." Flee, Hammond. Escape! You deserve better, buddy. He instead asks for permission to respond to her inanities, however. He refutes each of her points. I don't have to tell you everything said, because I assume that our readers are intelligent non-homophobes who've already thought of the responses, themselves. He uses the words "bias," "ignorance," and "cowardice," but he's not angry. He's trying to be persuasive, for God knows what reason. Ally says merely that he makes a great judge and that the only relevant point is that she doesn't want to go out with him. He leaves, slamming the door. Dude...you can do much better.
The sad piano carries over to a shot of Billy's sad face. Sandy bursts in, asking him whether he really wants to "do this." He does. She's all giddy, laying down ground rules. No making out in the office. No unprofessional behavior. No lying. No asking her to do his laundry. "No Palmer girls." No physical contact in this office! She has to keep repeating that last one as Sir Smirk-A-Lot slithers up to her. He starts saying he'd do nothing to jeopardize her career and that he respects her. Then he dips her as they kiss. Naturally, Richard and John open the door at that moment. John stutters. Richard says, "Oh, excellent. She'll sue. Excellent." Ha! They withdraw. Sandy says to Billy, "Great. It's already out in the open." Billy gives her his shit-eating grin, says, "Yeah," and they go back to making out. Big whatever.
Ally pines in the Unisex. Nelle smiles at her and washes her own hands. Richard walks in and asks Nelle if she's met any cute custodians lately. He gets icy silence. Nelle leaves. Richard asks Ally if she's okay. Ally says, "Why wouldn't I be okay? I'm saving up tons of money, here. I get paid a lawyer's salary to hang out in the restroom. I entertain personal acquaintances in my office. I sing and dance. And I don't even have to spend my paycheck on nice clothes! I can wear stuff I bought by the pound from the thrift store! I've got my retirement on my own tropical island all planned out, baby. You know I'm doin' all right!" Oh, wait. Sorry. She doesn't say that. She says, "Fine." Richard helps himself to a slice of her business. Ally tells him that her fear came from ignorance. Richard tells her that men have urges and cheat. He asks her to imagine if Clinton were bi: "It could have been Linda Tripp under that desk." Oh, ha, ha. He should have thrown in Janet Reno's name, too, because those jokes will never, ever, EVER get stale. Ally realizes that she was guilty of the same bigotry characteristic of Richard and because of that, she "let a good man get away." Cough-loser-cough! Cough-Rules-Girl-cough! Richard asks if it's too late. Ally brightens, saying it isn't. She sets out to rope in a diamond. Richard gives me a sweet smile. Then he turns to the mirror and digs in his teeth. Oh, well.
John is cleaning his office. He tells Nelle, who came in to talk, that his cleaning would probably be a turn-off to her. No, John, but your constant bitching would be one to me. Nelle gratuitously activates the remotes John invented for her heels and her hair, telling him he's weird. She points out that she puts up with a lot of his quirks, and that he rewards her by calling her intolerant. He asks if she'd date him if he didn't have money. "Of course!" she says, but she never would have been attracted to him if he weren't successful. He says that's what bothers him. "Well, then, you're a dweeb," Nelle says. D'oh! She reminds him that he was a dweeb in high school and became successful in order to show up the popular kids. She says that he can't handle the success or its accompanying popularity now that he has them. If he wants to be embraced for who he used to be, he should "go back to being the dweeb he was in high school." She tries to make an emphatic exit after that, but he works the high-heel remote, causing her to stumble. Whatever.
Ally is McBealing down the sidewalk as Vonda ruins "Love On A Two-Way Street," singing "bi-way" instead of "highway." Ally shakes her head, causing the record-scratch sound. She walks on and Vonda sings, "I looked at love from both sides now." More head-shaking and record-scratching. Vonda sings "I Get Around." Ally shakes her head and jumps up and down like a freak. She notices people watching her from across the street. "I can jump up and down if I want!" she petulantly yells, glaring at them in a truly frightening way. Why doesn't anyone call the police? She continues on her way to the coffee shop as her fave "Tell Him" song is sung. She power-walks it, her red-gloved hands balled into fists. Hammond sees her enter and asks if she came to dump coffee on him again. No. She's been thinking, and...She imagines him kissing her. She says she agrees that she's been guilty of bigotry. "And?" he asks. She's now imagining him kissing another man. She falters. "I just can't get by it," she says. Hammond reminds her of her advice to Sandy. Ally treats us to a visual of shirtless Hammond asleep right to the other man. This shot is complete with horror-movie music. Ally does her sad letdown routine and Hammond somehow refrains from dousing her with cappuccino that's scalding hot. He sighs as she slowly heads toward a bench on the sidewalk. Vonda sings "Tell Him" again, this time in minor key. Ally drops her head into her hands in her usual way which was never cute to begin with. Another man slips away. If only he wasn't bi! If only he'd been married to her friend, or simply engaged! Then he would have been The One! Poor, poor Ally McBeal. Will her search for fulfillment never end?
week Tina Turner guest-stars. There's some stupid contest involving Elaine and then Ally grinding their hips (I use the term "hips" loosely in Ally's case) onstage. Richard will pretend to think Ally's hot, and I will try to mentally erase this promo before retiring this evening, so as not to have nightmares.