By Evany
So it turns out that the big Edie and Carlos sex session from last week was more awkward fizzle than sizzle. After Travers overhears Carlos on the phone describing Edie as "bad in bed," Edie sets out to prove Carlos wrong. The ensuing melee (pepper mills fly, tables collapse) lands them both in the hospital (stitches for Carlos, a thrown-out back for Edie), and they mutually agree to return to "just friends" status. But after a fun-filled day at the zoo with Travers, Carlos and Edie's nuclear family day ignites another round of sexual fusion, and this time both parties agree it's a "wow." As Ian and Susan drive home from a cheesy visit to the farmer's market, she swerves to miss a deer, and the car winds up in a lake, at which point it's revealed that Ian can't swim. Luckily, Mike and his naked, naked torso arrive just in time to save the day, which leaves Ian feeling emasculated, jealous, and also flaccid. Susan and Ian argue, she stomps off to go give Mike a "thanks for saving our life" juicer, and Mike unexpectedly sweeps her into a toe-curling surprise French connection, which leaves Susan thoroughly dazzled and maybe not so sure of her feelings for Ian. Gabby finally has sex with the Salt and Peppered Politico, but when he neglects to place the required "thanks for servicing me in the back of my limo" call within the traditional twenty-four-hour timeframe, Gabby revenges herself upon him by bringing a date to S&P's big mayoral debate. The sight of Gabby groping some guy right there in the front row (Gabby is all class) causes S&P to flub the debate. S&P inexplicably rewards Gabby's gutter-style behavior by confessing that he's fallen in love with her, and Gabby accepts his apology. Tom is home from the hospital, and now he's an even bigger fatter baby than usual. Babysitter Mrs. McCluskey has to weather the bulk of Tom's whining because Lynette is so crazy-busy keeping things afloat down at the restaurant. But when Tom pushes Mrs. McC too far, she up and quits, dropping all five of the Scavo Satan spawn off at the restaurant. Lynette, at the end of her already-frayed rope, is forced to hire a very handsome and overqualified manager with a cocaine-dusted past. Ultimately, Tom apologizes to Mrs. McC, and she agrees to come back to sit for the kids -- all six of them. Oh, and also? It turns out that Mrs. McC has been storing her dead husband in her freezer this entire time. Completely unwrapped, and snuggling riiiiight up to the fudgesicles.Previously: did you read last week's recap? Then you're golden, girl.
So we pick up right where the Edie-and-Carlos sexual cliffhanger of last week dumped us: Edie has finished taking Carlos for a spin, and now she's lying in the post-coital bed, still naked, her not-so-private parts swaddled in sweat-wrinkled sheets. And she does not look happy. My first instinct is to interpret the look on her face as "first hateful stirrings of urinary tract infection," but as we soon discover, the problem goes way beyond Edie's over-trafficked genitals.
Mary Alice -- who apparently still feels the need to nose in on the doings of Wisteria Lane long after the mystery of her suicide has been explained and her family has been more or less written out of the storyline -- sing-songs, "Edie Britt had always thought of herself as passionate." We flash back on Edie throwing man after different man down onto beds and up against walls, dirty Road House-style. Back in the now, we see Carlos, lying with his back to Edie in a classic Cliffhanger Pose. The look on his face is identical to Edie's: pained and disturbed, and perhaps just a little bit itchy. MAVO tells us that Carlos also thinks of himself as "passionate." But unlike the potpourri of sexual conquests in Edie's flashbacks, Carlos's flashbacks all feature one woman: Gabby. Could it be that Carlos is a Virgin Plus One, just like Ian? MAVO twinkles on that both Edie and Carlos had always secretly assumed that if their two passionate paths ever crisscrossed in bed, it would be "amazing": "And in fact, it was. Amazingly...BAD!" The patented tart Desperate "arched eyebrow" xylophone chingles knowingly. Carlos and Edie exchange some highly uncomfortable morning-after talk as they scramble back into last night's fetid clothing. Carlos offers up a half-hearted invite to "do this again," and then he and Edie both scramble to lie about all their many scheduling conflicts. MAVO: "It was at that moment Edie and Carlos had the exact same thought: they would definitely be having sex again. Just not? With each other." Oh Mary Alice, you scamp! And roll those tired old credits!
And now for this week's MAVO theme: Aw, Look at All The Lonely People. Sadly, we are not treated to Edie's walk of shame home -- and it's a shame, because that wrinkled black satin top and two-inch lime green mini would have looked so good limping up the Lane, black lacy bra in hand! Instead we get old Ida gossiping passionately with a plant. Drunk again, I see. We push-transition to Kayla, talking to the Scavo dog, which, in an unexpected nod to continuity -- so unusual for this show! -- is actually the same puppy of Lynette's infamous vagina bait-and-switch. Semi-disturbingly, Kayla can be clearly heard confessing, "I kind of like it!" directly into the floppy ear of McMuff the Vagin' Dog (that's right: like McGruff the Crime Dog, only with a lady-part spin). Push-trans to some random Fairview man yelling at his television, then push trans to Mrs. McCluskey, who sitting in her basement, talking to her dead husband. MAVO: "And the loneliest of all are the ones who talk to people...who are no longer there." Propped up to a cornucopia of detergents -- five different bottles at least -- is a photo of Mrs. McC and "Gilbert" in younger days. Mrs. McC awkwardly plot-summarizes to the dead-and-gone Gilbert that Tom had his back surgery "last week" (which makes no sense, given Edie leaving Carlos's house just this morning -- clearly, the sex wasn't good enough to warrant a whole week in bed), and that, any second now, Lynette is for sure going to call begging Mrs. McC to start her babysitting shift early. As she talks, she fishes a fudgesicle out of the freezer. Hm, that freezer sure is on the large size for one woman living on her own, even for a lover of frozen novelties such as Mrs. McC. Why, it's about the length and width of, say, a COFFIN! A COFFIN, I say!
The phone rings: it's Lynette, as predicted. Lynette, wearing the dreaded orange Scavoria tee, lies that the kids are all totally ready for school (they're still partially pajama-clad), and Mrs. McC agrees to come over early to get the kids off to school. Lynette hangs up and says her goodbyes to Tom, who's set up on a hospital bed in the living room. Lynette has scheduled a bunch of interviews today for potential managers down at the Scavoria, and Tom annoyingly insists that she conference him into the meetings so that he can grill the candidates over the phone. He also harps about adding "goat cheese and mushroom" to the specials for today, which actually sounds not half bad, though maybe a little too depressingly bland to the eye. It's clear that Tom's annoying and ill-informed meddling has been going non-stop for days now, and Lynette is clearly at the end of her rope -- not that she had a whole lot of slack in that rope to begin with. Mrs. McC arrives, and Lynette quietly hands her the house phone, whispering instructions to hide it if and when Tom asks for it.
Edie, looking showered and mostly recovered from her brush with bad sex, sits on her couch, barefoot and breezy in a cute French blue babydoll dress. Travers arrives with a cold beer for her, and Edie clucks approvingly: "No foam this time!" Travers: "I tipped the glass, just like you told me to." Edie, encouragingly: "I think somebody's ready to salt his first margarita glass." In spite of myself, I'm amused by his underage drink wrangling skills -- even though I went to school with kids who grew up with party moms, and it turns ugly pretty fast. (If you've ever had to wrangle a keg nozzle out of the wrinkled hand of a friend's past-prime mother at a high school rager, then you know what I mean.) Also, the child actor (the unfortunately porno-named Jake Cherry) who plays Travers is surprisingly not awful, considering that he does kind of have the look of one of those shit-eating Welch's Grape Juice kids. Travers plunks himself down on the couch and wonderingly asks what Carlos meant when he described Edie as "bad in bed." (Travs overheard him on the phone.) Edie nearly chokes on her beer, but improves that "bad in bed" refers to a lack of skill in the bed-making department. Travers very nicely offers to tell everyone that she's actually really great in bed, and Edie gives a funny little terrified laugh. "No, no. If you really want to help Mommy, just top off her breakfast," she says, handing him her beer. I give Edie's sassy Mae West routine maybe five more years before it rots into something more along the lines of Florence Henderson's harrowing Unknown Woman in Shakes The Clown. Actually, make that two years.
Fairview Farmers' Market (who knew?). Ian is indulging in some kind of sick and elaborate fetish that involves fondling an orange at the Citrus City tent while chatting to Susan -- who is over at the cheese tent -- on his celly. Susan, it seems, is having some difficulty tearing herself away from the free samples. Mike walks up to Ian and starts fondling oranges, too (the fetish thickens!). Ian petulantly accuses him of following him and Susan, and Mike laughingly dismisses the accusation, even going so far as to cock an eyebrow -- a fairly huge display of emotion for the Stoneman. "Fairview's a small town," Mike scoffs. "You want distance? Move to The City." Ian's face thinks that's actually not such a bad idea.
Done with their cheese sampling and orange squeezing, Susan and Ian hit the road for home. Huh, you'd think he'd be driving, what with Susan's klutziness (explored at length in last week's episode) and Ian's fragile manhood. Ian "casually" (sarcastiquotes) mentions that there's been some troublesome "corporate restructuring" at work, and that he's going to be spending a lot more time in London; maybe he and Susan should relocate? Susan is not thrilled -- what about Julie, who's got a year left of high school? Yeah! Five minus points to Ian for not even considering Julie in his crazy jealousy-motivated move half way around the globe. Susan, understandably distracted, looks away from the road for a second, and out pops a deer. Ian screams; Susan swerves off the road, and the car flips into a pond. Wow...that was unexpected. Though not exactly atypical: Susan has a history of getting distracted and running her car off the road. She's actually done it more than once. Not only that, but it runs in the family. (And again I ask, why isn't Ian the one doing the driving?) To give the dramatic turn of events time to truly sink in, ABC cuts to commercial.
When we return, Ian and Susan are clinging to the upside-down car like it's a life-or-death situation, even though the pond looks all of four feet deep, and they're maybe twenty feet from shore. It soon becomes apparent that Ian can't swim. Not to knock people who can't swim, but is there anything less sexy than not being able to swim? Other than insatiable jealousy. And last week's whole pre-nup thing. You know, I have officially lost all sight of what it is that Susan sees in Ian. I bet he can't even drive stick. No offense to men who can't drive stick...though really, a guy might as well have a Ken doll nub for a penis if he can't handle a manual transmission. While Susan and Ian are otherwise busy bickering (Susan: "You said you played water polo!" Ian: "I said polo! With horses!"), stalker Mike pulls up, whips off his t-shirt (though not his shoes, which as every card-carrying lifeguard knows, are the first things that someone in rescue mode should take off...I guess Mike just really likes his chiseled pectorals to run free when he embarks on a death-defying damsel- and damsel's-fiancé-saving mission. If rescuing someone from a wee little pond can be considered death-defying). When they're safely on shore, Susan, wet in a bedraggled (not sexy) way, breathlessly thanks Mike: "You saved our lives. And our cheese!" It's true; topless Mike hands Susan her bag of cheese. And another fetish is born! (Though I suspect pond-brining doesn't do much to improve the cheese, though what do I know...Keckler? Can we get a ruling on this?) Thoroughly emasculated by Mike's cheese fetish-tainted bravery, Ian scowls, his jealousy alert level now officially at Severe.
Scavoria. Lynette is having no luck with the candidates for the manager position: the last one "kept asking what [they] do with the food people don't eat." Andrew: "What do you expect for $8.50 an hour?" Wow. That is pretty bad, especially considering that slinging potatoes at In-N-Out pays $9.50? Though maybe a dollar goes further in the Eagle State. Even so, working for conniving Lynette merits some serious hazard pay. Lynette points out that Andrew is making $8.50, and that he doesn't seem to have an issue with it. Andrew: "That's because I'm doing the beer delivery guy." Nice to hear Andrew's still keeping his oar wet; I was worried that since turning Good, Andrew had been stripped of his gayness. (Though I'll admit for one dark moment, I thought "beer delivery guy" referred to Travers.) And yet, once again I wonder what the hell happened to Justin? After recovering from Andrew's TMI, Lynette calls out the name of the interviewee, "Rick Coletti" (played by TV-handsome Jason Gedrick of LAX lame), and it turns out he's sitting three inches away. Um, Lynette? Here's an HR tip: maybe avoid complaining about the person you just interviewed right in front of the other candidates? Nick, it turns out, is wildly overqualified: for one thing, he knows how to spell "calzone," and he also knows how to deep french-kiss some serious ass (he judiciously lowballs when Lynette asks him to guess her age). He was also a "sous chef at Cucina," which just happens to be the fancy restaurant where Maybe Mayor took Gabby on their first date (and six more points for Team Continuity!). Okay, but if this guy has such great credentials, what's the catch? Cut to...
...Tom, back at home, screaming at Mrs. McCluskey to bring him more pain pills. $8.50 says he develops a Vicodin problem within the two episodes. Lynette bursts in, thrilled with the news that she's found their new manager. But when Lynette confesses that the wildly overqualified candidate is recovering from the smallest of cocaine problems, Tom puts his foot down. Or, more precisely (seeing as he's incapable of putting any feet down, for the five months at least), he whines like a bratty little girl. No junkies at the Scavoria! Crushed, Lynette sighs and wanders off, vaguely saying something about how she guesses she'll "keep looking." Mrs. McC, there with Tom's pain pills, cuffs him brusquely on the head. Ha!
Oh right, Gabby. So the Salt and Peppered Politico (my absolute favorite flavor or Kettle Chip, by the by) is still in the picture, and they're just finishing up another date. S&P wants to come inside Gabby's house, but since he treats it like sex is par for the intercourse, Gabby is suddenly reluctant to give her milk away for free. S&P graciously agrees to "be patient," allowing that "the chase is half the fun." Gabby: "Half the fun? Oh honey, if I ever do say 'yes,' you're going to adjust that percentage waaay down." Gabby kisses S&P long and hard, and then disappears inside. S&P swoons. Gabby, not having sex? Is this the same Gabby who was so hot to get Zana's lawyer, Luke, into bed 3.14 seconds after meeting him just four episodes back?
Susan is in bed, wearing a sexy getup consisting pink lacy nightie-thing over an impossible to ignore black-bra-and-panty set. She is sexily posed on her side, knees up, head propped up on one hand, and she's busy stroking...a plate of cheese. A plate of cheese! So awesome. Ian teases her for the relentless cheese eating, and Susan counters that it's a perfectly acceptable midnight snack. "Unless you can think of something else I can nibble on," she coquettes. And the award for "Shortest Distance from Awesome to Ew" now officially goes to Ian and Susan, in "The Cheesy Romance" scene. Oh, and also Ian calls her a "cheddar-breathed tease," which is so repulsively evocative a term that I think the FCC should add to its list of seven dirty words. But all the flirtatious cheese talk (who knew there could even be such an animal?) derails when Ian notices the wrapped and ready "thanks for saving us from drowning in the two-foot pond" gift that Susan has prepared for Mike, which is somewhat oddly sitting right to her bed (though I guess I've been known to use my bed for wrapping presents, too, so I'll allow it). Ian spiels inanely that he's really the one to thank for the life-saving, seeing as his scream was what alerted Susan to the presence of the deer, without which Susan "would have ended up with an antler through [her] brain." Susan humors Ian, and they reconvene with the cheese-fueled make-out session, except that the specter of Mike's gift causes Ian's equipment to go from Parmesan to Camembert. Hard cheese to soft cheese, you follow? Oh fine: Ian loses his erection. Susan tries to get him to talk about it, but he all he wants to do is sit there and pout, leaving Susan with nothing else to do but sit on her tuffet, eating her curds and whey. You know what's even less attractive than an inability to swim? Erectile dysfunction petulance.
Nighttime. Edie, wearing a very cute '50s-inspired dress that I actually kind of covet (a first as far as Edie's cinched and plunged wardrobe is concerned), walks up to Carlos, standing in his driveway. He politely asks how she's doing. Edie: "I'm good...you might not think so, but I. Am. Good." And then she just lights into him, screaming about what Travers overheard about her sexual shortcomings. By way of an apology, Carlos says it's just a tradition he has with his cousin; they "always trade bad date stories," which only serves to lividify Edie even more. Edie: "You think you were bored? I've had more thrills leaning up against my drier!" And also: "You hunkered down on top of me like you were hiding from the Border Patrol!" (My boyfriend Marco: "Wow. That's borderline racist." Evany: "Oh. I get it. 'Borderline.'") Carlos: "You just lay there while I did all the work. After we were done I felt like I should deflate you." Which is...actually an amazingly apt description of Nicollette Sheridan; something about proportion of her eyes to nose to mouth really does seem synthetic (though I'd say she was more in the $10,000 RealDoll leagues).
So, of course, all this yelling leads to another round of sexing. (Carlos: "Are you challenging me to a rematch?" Edie: "Yeah, I'll fall on that grenade." Carlos: "Oh there's gonna be an explosion.") Much to my delighted surprise, though, they didn't go the "anger as sexual lubricant" route; I was so, so sure we were going to have to spend the rest of the season watching Carlos and Edie invent arguments because they couldn't have sex any other way, "let me stand to your ire" and all that. But this time around, the sex is even worse that before: Edie throws Carlos against his fridge, and a pepper grinder falls on his head; Carlos throws Edie down on the table and she lands on a fork; Carlos jumps on top of Edie and the table collapses. Cut to...
...Carlos and Edie sitting in a doctor's examination room. (Such a funny cut!) Edie's thrown out her back, and Carlos has had his hand stitched up. Doctor: "So, how'd you folks get so banged up? Car accident?" Edie: "Bad sex." Carlos: "Really bad." Funny, funny! The doctor raises his eyebrows in surprise, hands Edie a prescription for painkillers, and leaves. Edie and Carlos, the wind totally out of their sails, have a nice conversation about how it's "for the best" -- now that they've "gotten it out of [their] system[s]," they can go back to the safety of Just Friends.
Down at the S&P political pep rally, MAVO tells us all about how bored Gabby was sure she'd be -- she brought a magazine and everything -- but then she notices how much female interest the handsome (I guess? Though I don't see it at all...more for you to share, ladies!) maybe-mayor, and how good-looking some of the competition is, and suddenly the Old Gabby is back in the saddle again. The second that Maybe Mayor has finished up his stump, Gabby drags him off to his limo -- leaving many crestfallen women in her wake -- where she delivers a hump speech of her very own: "You laid out all your positions. Don't you want to get acquainted with mine?" And on "mine," Gabby peels off her bra. Classy! Yes, the old gutter Gabby is back! Maybe Mayor, shocked by his good luck, distractedly tells the driver to "put up the partition," and Gabby requests some "loud music." And in kicks the world's the worst cover of "Good Lovin'" that ever was. I couldn't figure out who it's by, but I'll admit I didn't look all that hard, much like I don't go looking too hard for the source of a terrible smell along the highway. Wow. Seriously, this song is BAD. If S&P can maintain his erection in the face of that song, then he's won my vote (in the imaginary mayoral race of an imaginary town...yes, I still know the difference between my world and theirs...just barely).
Tyrant Tom's House Of Pain. Tom is screaming at Mrs. McC to bring him his pie, in a monstrous rage that would put Jack Nicholson in The Shining to shame. What, one of the five million Scavo squirts can't bring Tom a fucking piece of pie? It turns out that the pie delay is due to Mrs. McC being otherwise occupied emptying out the Scavos' dishwasher. So they're having her do chores, too? Tom, in a low, crazy-sinister voice: "I want my pie. Now. Oh yeah, you heard me." Mrs. McC shoots him a dangerous glare -- the menacing glare of a woman who, as we'll discover soon enough, is not to be trifled with. But Tom ignores the plumes of this dangerous creature and continues down his ass-a-holic path: "Your being here isn't charity. We're paying you good money to help us. So when I ask you to do something, I WANT IT DONE!" Wow, so Tom is now a total monster. This all feels rather sudden. Did I maybe miss an episode or something -- one in which Tom demonstrated his slow descent into incorrigibly demanding neediness? Sadly, no. Cut to...
...Mrs. McC, dropping off all five little Scavos down at the Scavoria, which is packed with customers. Lynette rushes over, and Mrs. McC informs her that she quits! Lynette begs her not to go. Mrs. McC: "I wish I could help you, Lynette. I can see that you're going down. I'm just too old to go down with you." Right on cue, the P twins start shooting soda from the drink gun behind the bar into each other's mouths. Oh yeah, that's just what these kids need -- some high fructose corn syrup.
Later. Lynette -- looking like death warmed, and rewarmed, and rewarmed over -- arrives at home to find a very repentant-looking Tom. He sputters manically that he's "gonna fix this," that he plans to "apologize" to Mrs. McC first thing in the morn. Lynette just stares at him, too tired to put thoughts into words. Lynette collapses down beside Tom on the hospital bed, whimpering with defeat.
And Tom? Chooses this moment -- this dark, bone-tired moment -- to invite Lynette to give him a blowjob. No words. I have no words. Lynette: "Ew. Is that why you apologized? Just so I'd...service you?" Tom, whining: "Honey! I've been trapped in this bed all day long. I'm bored, Iâm miserable. Can't you do this one little thing for me?" No words. (Except...maybe if Lynette worked really, really hard, she could suck the whine out of him? No, no: it's best, I sense, if we stuck with no words.)
Post-limo ride. Gabby walks into her house, adjusting her coitally mussed clothing with a practised air, and checks her answering machine. MAVO: "For Gabrielle, the best part of having sex with a new man was seeing how quickly his affection would turn to obsession." Ugh. Ew. Sad. That's the best part of sex, the inevitable obsession that follows? Oh Gabby, how you disappoint me.
And wouldn't you know it? Now that Gabby's back to true form, I kind of miss the independent and circumspect Gabby of the last two episodes. Anyway, so, no messages tonight, or the morning. And when S&P still hadn't called by the afternoon, MAVO gloats, "it was Gabby who was doing the obsessing."
Susan and Edie arrive at Gabby's for margaritas and fun boy talk. (Edie: "I love limo sex! Town car or stretch?" Gabby: "Well, stretch, of course; I'm not a complete slut.") Susan tells Gabby to relax about the lack of a call from Maybe Mayor; he's probably just very busy getting ready for the big debate with the current mayor tonight. Gabby pooh-poohs that excuse: a man can carve a minute out of even the busiest of schedules to call and tell her how obsessed he now is with her! Just then, a buff workman in a wife-beater strolls in. He's been fixing Gabby's closet after last week's burst water heater incident, yay continuity. The ladies all watch him admiringly as he leans deep into Gabby's fridge to grab some water. Edie, whispering: "Who? Is that?" Susan: "And why don't you put your water on a lower shelf?" Whee!
The workman returns upstairs, and Susan steers the conversation back to Maybe Mayor. Just how good was he, limo-sex-wise? Gabby: "Fantastic. As good as with Carlos." Edie, with secret private arch delight: "That good, huh?" They banter awhile about how smart and powerful the ladies of yesteryear were, what with making their men wait and beg for sex and never letting on they the themselves had sexy needs of their own. Edie claims that she makes all her men wait, which...hello? What about Carlos? Maybe in Fairview aiming your cross(short)hairs directly at a man is called "waiting," but not in my America. Susan: "It's true. She has a little room with magazines and an aquarium." It's a funny line, but weirdly, it feels almost too witty, like...oh, it's hard to explain, but the line sounds like something a wry, funny scriptwriter for a show called Desperate Housewives would say, and not something you'd hear coming out of dopey Susan from Wisteria Lane. You know? Oh fine, I'll shut my criticism hole. Back to Gabby: Edie advises her to put Maybe Mayor back in his place by playing the old jealousy card. Gabby, for some reason, puzzles over how something like that might be accomplished, ha, like she didn't write the book on making men jealous. But her puzzlement provides a nice springboard for the Closet Man's timely return to the kitchen. "I got all the shelves up," he says. "Anything else?" The ladies exchange a knowing look, and the "birth of a hare-brained scheme" music swells!
Chaos at the Scavoria. Lynette is running and running like a chicken sans head when Tootin' Ricky shows up, wondering what the word is on the manager job. Lynette is aghast: she never got back to him! She super-uncomfortably stutters on about how she'd love to hire him, only her blowjob of a husband isn't delighted with TR's druggie past. TR, earnestly, handsomely: "Look, you can drug-test me every week. Anything you want. I just...I really need this job." At this ripe moment, Shitty Customer™ starts screaming about his calzone. Lynette races off to try to deal with the guy, only he is basically incapable of happiness, and ultimately Lynette sits down at the man's table and quietly starts to cry. And knight in shining armor Tootin' Ricky comes to Lynette's emotional rescue, offering to redo the man's calzone with some tasty new elements (basil, garlic, and etc.). Shell-shocked Lynette is all, "You're hired, beautiful man from doomed Heather Locklear vehicle LAX."
Erectile Dysfunction Junction. Susan is all done up in a crazy, crazy black lacy babydoll thing that prominently features two little pink satin bows on top of each nipple. It is, in a word, hilarious. It is not, however, especially arousing, even though it clearly was purchased specially to conquer Ian's problems with keeping his flag at full mast. She sweetly tiptoes into bed, and Ian -- who's very busy looking over a "report" for work -- distractedly notices the outfit. Ian: "Is that new?" Susan: "I just bought it. But if you don't like it, feel free to rip it off me." Funny! But, again, funnier than I feel Susan is normally, so much so that it rings untrue? Though hey, I don't know, maybe engagement suits her. (And really, I'm all for the characters being funnier.) Ian tries to return to his report, but Susan has news: she's thinking maybe it might be a good idea for Julie to have a year abroad on her college applications. In other words, Susan is ready to relocate to England! Ian is so thrilled with the announcement that he tosses the report aside and starts to frolic her up and down. Unfortunately -- can't Ian leave good enough alone and just ravage the poor woman already? -- between kisses, Ian mutters something about selling their houses, and Susan offhandedly says she wants to hold on to her place because "everybody [she] loves is on this street." And ka-blam! At the word "love," the thoughts of Ian's hard penis turn to Mike, and abruptly it loses interest in the ridiculously babydolled-up Susan. Susan, finally, finally fed up with the sensation of dating an infant, calls Ian on it, and a big fight breaks out. Ian spats that he just doesn't trust Mike, and Susan responds, oh-so-rightly, "You don't have to trust Mike, you have to trust me, and you don't!" Suddenly it dawns on Susan that Ian's fixation on Mike is what's behind the sudden need to move to England. Susan: "You know what? Screw it. I'm not going. And if you ever bring up his name again, we're over."
Susan storms off downstairs, spots Mike's "thank you" gift, and marches it right on over to his place. (Oh and I guess I should point out that somewhere in all that tirading back and forth she put on her robe.) Mike answers the door, and immediately notices that something's wrong. She stutters that things with Ian are...but Mike doesn't let her finish. He just sweeps her into his arms in a big, Stoneman kiss. And I feel compulsed to describe for you how, in the frame-by-frame view of the scene, you can see that Mike comes at her with his mouth already open, all gaping and shining bright with wetness. And Susan doesn't do a whole lot to stop the man. Oh and also: it was a juicer. The gift Susan got for Mike, to thank him for saving Ian from drowning? It was a juicer. Susan breaks away from the gaping maw of Mike and, looking like the Stoneman sure got her nethers good and rattled, races back home. Ian is downstairs, waiting for her, and he immediately launches into a nice, apologetic speech about he's an "insecure idiot." (And yet...clearly he has much to be insecure about, oops.) He also promises never to express another jealous sentiment again. Well, that ought to free up some time...maybe enough time to actually learn to swim? They kiss, but you can tell by the look on her face that the kiss didn't reach all the way down to her hee-haw like Mike's just did. Uh oh.
Barbie's Dream House. Irritatingly enough, Operation Jealousy seems to have worked its magic, because now Gabby's answering machine is crammed with messages from the Maybe Mayor. We see a montage of her listening to the messages -- which go from anger to begging all too quickly -- as more and more roses show up in the foyer. Finally, Gabby decides that she's ready to let him grovel in person, and the time he rings her doorbell, she lets him in. He apologizes for being "thoughtless and inconsiderate," but also scolds her for what she did in retaliation, which he describes as "flat-out vicious." True. And yet? And I can hardly believe this, but he says, "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm in love with you!" Wha....t? Two weeks into dating Gabby and this man is in love with her? After her childish and manipulative maneuvering, which almost lost him his election? Oh Mylanta. You just know that if Gabby's spurning and jealousy mongering causes this man's heart to go pitty-pat, then clearly he is one emotionally broken and faulty-wired politician. Gabby melts, and they kiss, and it is possibly one of the most chemistry-lacking kisses in the history of this show. It must be love, love, love!
Edie and Carlos are bushed after a full day at the zoo with Travers. And I'm weirdly pleased to announce that after that briefest of brief detours into dressing sanely, Edie is now back to dressing like an undersexed mental patient: a plunging white Grecian babydoll dress? To the zoo? Travers is in bed, and Edie and Carlos are looking at photos on the digital cameral, warmly rehashing the fun of the day, right down to the zany pretzel guy, who took a photo of all three of them and commented on what a cute family they make. Edie and Carlos exchange nice, sincere smiles over the image of the three of them together, and then suddenly -- struck by the wholesomeness of it all -- Round 3 of the Battle of The Sex is totally ON. Only this time, no one gets hurt...except for the "so good" kind.
Monster Tom calls Mrs. McC to apologize for being a nasty, nasty man. She reluctantly forgives him, and when she hangs up the phone, she gleefully, and rather sweetly, reports the good news of Tom's apology to dead husband Gilbert. Mrs. McC also wistfully admits that maybe Tom and Lynette have a "good marriage after all," but then she sighs a lonely sigh and says that they'll still "never have what [she and Gilbert] had." Aw. Sad! So sad.
And IT'S MAVO DOODY TIME! "Passion," she says in her special earnest-schoolmarm way. "It's a force so potent, we still remember it long after it's faded away." Cross-fade to Carlos and Edie, rolling around naked in front of the fire. MAVO sums up this thing between Edie and Carlos as the product of "a drive so alluring it can push us into the arms of unexpected lovers." Cross-fade to Gabby and Maybe Mayor, who are also doing the Sexlectric Slide. MAVO explains Gabby and MM as experiencing "a sensation so overwhelming, it can knock down walls we've built to protect our hearts." Cross-fade to Susan and Ian, who are also doing it (something sure is in the air on Wisteria Lane tonight!), only Susan is looking a little wistful (i.e. mooning over that kiss from Mike), and MAVO explains that she's experiencing a sort of "feeling so intense, it resurfaces even though we tried so hard to keep it buried." Cross-fade back to Mrs. McC, who reaches into her freezer for another fudgesicle. You know, to fill the void? Of loneliness? In her heart? Except this time, the camera is positioned so we get a view of the freezer over her shoulder, and we can see that inside the COFFIN-DIMENSIONED freezer, lies? Dead Gilbert, completely frozen without benefit of plastic wrap, cheek-to-check with her vast supply of fudgesicles. MAVO: "Yes: of all emotions, passion is the one that gives us a reason to live, and an excuse to commit all sorts of crimes." What? Who? Huh?