By Evany
Edie is in heat re: not having sex in three whole weeks, and she decides to present her enflamed parts in Carlos's direction. Carlos tries to escape her vaginal tractor beam by claiming that he's looking for a nice lady to settle down with, not some flighty party girl like Edie. Edie convinces him that she's all woman by showing him her C-section scar and her sagging fortysomething breasts, and Carlos seems to like what he sees. (Yes, they totally do it.) Somewhere between setting her future mother-in-law on fire and dousing her in red wine, triple klutz Susan manages to let slip a joke about how she grabbed all of Karl's "assets" in their divorce. Singed and stained Mamma Hainsworth pushes Ian to protect himself from Karl's fate with a pre-nup, but Susan blackmails Father Hainsworth, whom she busts trying on her underwear, into tearing up said pre-nup. Lynette manufactures some fantastically lame battle with Tom over the slightly unattractive hue of the new Scavoria uniforms (huh?) and walks off the job, only to return later that night to discover Tom collapsed behind the bar. Lynette, sure Tom is dying, pulls one of her vein-swelling freakouts, but it turns out he's only ruptured a disc, an injury that's supposedly going to keep Tom out of the pizza business for the five months. Lynette, that plucky martyr, dons her orange Scavoria tee â the (pizza) dough must go on! Mike is plagued with melancholy flashbacks of a movie he once saw, and his memory therapist advises him to ask Susan to help him identify the film. Susan sadly informs him that his mental romcom starred none other than Susan and Mike, specifically the "morning after the first time together pancake scene" that they shared together back in happier, Season 1 days. This breakthrough leaves Mike feeling so forlorn that he quits therapy, determined not to let any more unrequite-able Susan memories surface. Gabby's water heater explodes, somehow ruining all her clothes, so she steals a fancy dress from the closet of the ex-wife of her new male interest (the salt-and-pepper politico from Sex And The City). Of course, S&P's ex shows up at the same event as Gabby and the dress. The fur flies and â surprise! â Gabby ends up stripped down to her bra and underwear. Later, S&P confesses that his wife got all those nice dresses in exchange for him treating her like a mistress and never being there for her or something. Gabby is so impressed with his honesty and incredible real-ness that she agrees to go out with him again, and he celebrates by buying her a new dress. Gold-digger Gabby is thrilled, even though he just got done telling her how expensive dresses are what he gives in lieu of actual love, yay?
How long has it been since last we spoke -- a whole month? (Oh my god, hi!) So long that maybe you forgot that Tom's back goes out whenever he's under the weight of any responsibility whatsoever? Or everything else that happened just in the last episode: Gabby is semi-reluctantly dating the Salt and Peppered politico from Sex And The City, and Edie's Snuffleupagus son finally made an appearance. Oh, and also Susan and Ian are still engaged, despite their complete lack of chemistry and the fact that Fate clearly still has plans for Susan and Mike.
After kinder-talking us through the Previouslies, Mary Alice gets the party started right by assuring us that the accident-afflicted Susan we know and love to hate is still alive and tripping. And Ian's got the bruises to show for it, HEY! Exhibit A: Susan manages to stab Ian with a thorny rose as they stand out in front of her house, waiting for his parents to arrive. Ian absently rubs his bleeding neck wound, and MAVO tells us, "If there was one thing Ian Hainsworth was sure of, it was that his love for Susan Mayer was indestructible. He knew this because it had been tested again, and again, and again." With each "again," we get a flashback: Susan jumping into Ian's arms with such violence that he collapses to the ground ass over high-teakettle, Susan rolling over in bed and slapping him in the face, Susan popping him right in the eye with the flying cork from a bottle of champagne.
Back in the now, a town car pulls up in front of Ian and Susan (the latter grinning and hopping up and down frenetically like a mentally deficient jack-in-the-box in need of urinary relief), and out step Ian's ultra-toffee-nosed parents (Mother Hainsworth being played by the one/only Lynn Redgrave, she of Weight Watchers and $100,000 Pyramid fame). Susan goes to hand the thorn-studded rose to Ian's mother, and Ian dives in like there's a grenade about to go off, shouting for his mother to be careful of the thorns. Lynn Redgrave rolls her eyes and dulcetly chastises Ian: she's heard the Poison anthem and knows all about the hazards of roses, thank you very much. After an awkward moment, Ian invites the 'rents inside for some lunch.
In the backyard, Susan shakes out some coals into the Hibachi. (And who here can see where this is headed? Who here who didn't see the eight million previews that aired for this week's show, that is?) Daddy Hainsworth marvels at the incredible novelty of grilling meats, noting how "primal" it all is. I find it hard to believe that the English, even the uppah-uppah ones, are so sheltered as to never have heard of BBQ, though maybe they really do boil every last thing? Lynn Redgrave comments that it all makes her feel like some "gloriously rough-hewn cowgirl" (yes, and also every cowboy sings a sad, sad song). Susan confirms that the word is indeed "victuals," and they all titter. As they chat, Susan -- wearing a tee layered under a strange purple sweater thing with a gigantic cowl neckline that dangles open to halfway down her belly, or where her belly would be if she had such a thing -- busies herself with squirting an absurd amount of lighter fluid onto the coals. (How about now? Now do you see where this is headed?)
Ian and Daddy Hainsworth head into the house to get Lynn Redgrave a "thimbleful of gin" -- though the fact that Ian, who moments before was afraid for his mother's life because of a lowly rose, suddenly trusts Susan with an impressive supply of combustibles makes exactly zero sense. Inside, Ian confesses to his father that he was nervous that the big Meet The Parents thing wasn't going to go well. Daddy commiserates by telling Ian "The Harrowing Tale of the Dropped Scone," which transpired during his own first meeting with Lynn Redgrave's parents. As Daddy's story unfolds, the inevitable In-Law Inferno scene plays out through the window behind them, in a move lifted directly from Harold & Maude. Though sadly, because the fire was so heavy-handedly telegraphed here: See Susan shake out the coals! STOP. See Susan squirt the lighter fluid! STOP -- the scene isn't nearly as surprising or funny as it was in the original movie.
Singed and bedraggled, Lynn Redgrave and Susan stagger inside. MA makes a lame, just-this-side-of-nonsensical joke about how the chiffon of Lynn Redgrave's Queen Mumsy blouse was sadly not quite as fire-retardant as Ian's love for Susan. Because nothing wards off flames like love? And... credits!
And we're back for the MAVO welcome montage. This week, it's all about the Ladies going through their closets and fawning over favorite articles of clothing, each choosing something that "symbolizes [her] youth": Susan pulls out an old cheerleader uniform for "CSC" (Correctional Service of Canada? Customer Service Center? The possibilities are endless); Lynette holds up a pre-pregnancies bikini; Edie selects a pair of shiny black leather pants, which MA tells us she "prays will come back in style." Then we pan over to Gabby's closet, and MA tells us that Gabby didn't have just one favorite item. For her, "every item was a treasure" and "utterly irreplaceable." So of course the ceiling collapses and a Perfect Storm wave of water cascades down on top of all her clothes. And the water looks suspiciously brown -- perhaps the Solis sewage problem of Season 1 is rearing its filthy-dirty head once more?
Outside, Gabby and Edie unload a bunch of shopping bags from Gabby's car as Gabby gives Edie heat for buying "another bustier." Edie: "I know, I should never shop for lingerie when I'm horny; it's like buying groceries when you're hungry." (Shopping with Edie and Gabby? Why were we wasting screen time on Susan and her weird cheerleading outfit when we could have been watching that wine-soaked soft-core credit-card-a-thon?) Edie confesses that it's been a whole "three weeks" since she's had any spelunkers in her love cave (by which of course I mean sexual intercourse). And I think I may know why the men have been keeping away: Edie is wearing possibly the world's most hideous outfit in this scene, a billowing white paramilitary three-button blazer thing with lonnnnng tails, paired with? White short shorts, with CARGO POCKETS. If she's been going out in public this way, it's no wonder she hasn't been getting any action. Edie tells Gabby that she's "this close" to going after her gardener. Shopworn Gabby: "Been there, done that."
Talk turns to Gabby's Salt and Pepper Sex And The City boyfriend, whom apparently Gabby is fixing to dump. Edie, puzzled: "Why? He's rich, he's gorgeous, he's probably going to be mayor..." But Gabby claims he's "too arrogant." And again I cry bullshit. Since when has Gabby had issues with arrogance? Especially when it comes attached to sacks of money? Edie offers to take the mayor-to-be off Gabby's hands (and into Edie's sex-deprived clutches...if three weeks can be considered "deprived"), but Gabby scoffs that Edie can't possibly be that "hard up." Again: huh? S&P isn't exactly the most well written character on the show, but he certainly isn't below Edie's standards. And Edie agrees: "Did I mention my gardener was sixty-two?" They walk into Gabby's house and spot the Niagara Shitstorm, which is now trickling down into the foyer. Gabby races upstairs to her closet and cuts loose with a keening howl when she spies all her precious outfits, which are all almost assuredly Dry Clean Only.
Scavoria. Lynette walks in, and Tom immediately pounces on her for not wearing her new uniform, which is just a basic orange t-shirt with an innocuous logo across the front. Lynette does a sad job of pretending she forgot it at home, but luckily Tom just happens to have an extra. Lynette tries to convince Tom that maybe the two of them should be exempt from the t-shirt-wearing, since they're the owners, but Tom holds firm, even though Lynette totally "hate[s] orange." Really? REALLY? This is what passes for plot on this show these days? Tom and Lynette can't agree on the color of the company t-shirts? That is rich, rich material. Maybe they could spin off their own show? And each week, it'd be like a completely different color, or maybe the shirts would have long sleeves!
Back to Edie of the sex-repellant white cargo shorts. As she walks home from Gabby's, we see that she's paired the outfit of insanity with four-inch white and brown heels and a leopard-print tote. Right! As she passes by Carlos (and Mike's!) place, she spies her son out front, shooting hoops with Carlos. At just this ripe moment, Sweaty Carlos Austins off his top to reveal his hairy, chocolate bar stomach and B-cup pecs. Edie's eyes pop out of her head and heart-shaped steam rings puff out of her ears and her tongue rolls out like a red carpet and her vagina goes "A-HOO-DAH!"
Fire House. Lynn Redgrave has changed outfits, and Susan's ordered Chinese food, and the four of them sit down to a do-over lunch. Susan makes a show of putting Ian's mother in the good chair and taking "The Wobbler" for herself, commenting as she does so that she's in the process of saving up to buy a new set of chairs. Talk turns to Julie, and then to Karl (whom Julie's staying with, thus her absence). Ian's parents are confused; Ian had implied that Karl was dead and that Susan was a widow? Susan and Ian clarify that the marriage ended, thanks to Karl's "womanizer" ways. Lynn Redgrave overshares that adultery isn't something to leave a man over -- not when his guilt can be alchemized into sparkly jewelry. Lynn Redgrave, with her eyes on a grimacing Daddy Hainsworth: "Punish the sin, but love the sinner." Susan, trying to make light of things, says, "With Karl I was more, 'divorce the ass and seize the assets'!" Ian laughs at her quip, but his parents remain thoughtfully silent.
Mayor-To-Be Mansion. Gabby and S&P are outside, having a romantic dinner in front of his gigantic house, and she's dazzling him with the tale of her broken water heater. For some reason, it was positioned directly over her closet, the one part of the house she most wants to protect from accident, although most water heaters I know of are stored in the basement, where they can burst without fear of harming a Prada or Manolo (though according to the boards, attic-mounted water heaters aren't completely unheard-of). Despite the fact that all of her clothes and shoes are now destroyed, Gabby seems to have scraped together some cute clothes to wear tonight, at least; the pink scalloped-neck tee she's wearing is very nice. S&P seems pleased by the news of Gabby's tragedy, since it means now Gabby clearly could "use a rich boyfriend." As in, he's willing to foot the bill to replace all her clothes? The Gabby I know would be on that offer like Edie on cargo shorts. Certainly Mother Hainsworth would recommend going for the big payoff. But weirdly, Gabby says she's not interested -- in fact, tonight is the last night that she'll be seeing S&P. I sure wish that, if they were going to make Gabby go completely against character, they'd at least given S&P a clearly detestable quality -- something more off-putting than "arrogance" for us to believe in. S&P tries to get Gabby to agree to at least one more date: he's getting an award at the Rotary Club lunch tomorrow and wants her candying up his arm. Gabby shushes him and orders him to go get her a sweater; hasn't he noticed how cold she is? S&P, looking down at Gabby's raisin-smuggling region: "Noticed? It's made my whole evening."
Inside. S&P tries to steer Gabby toward his sweater collection, but her nose for couture leads her straight into his ex-wife's closet, which is packed with spendy gems, all of which Gabby recognizes instantly: "Lacroix, Ungaro, vintage Gaultier...." And everything's exactly Gabby's size! S&P: "Well I guess I have a type." Gabby: "And normally, that would creep me out? But it means I can borrow this one-of-a-kind [some designer that sounds like "Andari," which I don't at all recognize (and which I couldn't find on the internet, and which not one fashion-forward friend recognized), so maybe the design is exclusive to the Eagle state...or maybe I'm hopelessly un-chic?] for our date!" But S&P refuses on the grounds that his ex (who is storing her clothes there until her house is ready) wouldn't appreciate his loaning out her clothes to his new girlfriend -- a sensibility I kind of think Gabby would appreciate if she weren't in such a swoon. Gabby tries to argue that the wife will never find out, and then tries wheedling, "A dress this gorgeous is meant to be seen! Every day it hangs in a closet, an angel loses its wings!" But S&P refuses to be moved. Gabby pouts and sighs.
Dream Academy. Mike is lying on the couch, describing a distant memory he has of a movie he once saw, a romantic comedy starring Julia Roberts, maybe? Pancakes are involved. (Ah, so it's a sexy pancake memory, is it? I have those all the time. IN MY PANTS.) The rememo-doctor wonders whom Mike went to the movie with, and Mike -- wearing his frustrated face, which for those unfamiliar with the rainbow of emotion that is Mike, looks much like his happy face, and excited face, and mad face -- thinks that, since it was obviously a "chick flick," he was probably with Susan when he saw it. But whatever it is, something about his memory of this movie leaves him feeling melancholy, so the doctor strongly recommends that he talk to Susan about it, if not for the sake of regaining his memories, then for the sake of "closure." Incidentally, the doctor plays this whole scene like a perky "you're soaking in it!"-style manicurist, which feels very off to me. Though maybe sharing a scene with Stoneman Mike is enough to make anyone overact?
Carlos, on the phone with Travers Britt, says he'd love to come over and help out with the construction of a model airplane. Travers hangs up the phone and turns to Edie, who's sitting right there, to tell her that Carlos has agreed to come over around 7 tomorrow night. Travers: "Can I go watch my show now?" (Ah, "My Show," I understand that's a very popular program with the children of Fairview.) Edie, handing him a cookie, tells him to watch the night away, because tomorrow he's "going to have an early night." Dear Diary: Nicollette Sheridan's arms sure are pretty.
The awkward future-in-law dinner at Susan's is finally over, and Ian and Susan are fixing coffee in the kitchen. They're talking about Daddy Hainsworth, who we learn is upstairs "lying down," as is his post-dinner habit. Ian remarks that things are going "very well," which of course sets the stage for Susan's disaster: carrying the coffee on a tray, she butt-firsts into the dining room, and the door slams into Ian's mother, who falls to the floor, spilling red wine all down her front in the process.
Susan races upstairs to get Lynn Redgrave a towel, only to discover Daddy Hainsworth wearing Susan's robe, bra, and underwear, and gazing at himself fondly in her bedroom mirror. Is that what "lying down" means in the UK? Because that could lead to a lot of uncomfortable misunderstandings, much like the internationally treacherous "fanny pack." Daddy tries to pretend he's just trying to "get a sense of the drape," you know, research for when he buys a robe for his wife. (Paxton Whitehead, the actor playing Daddy Hainsworth here, is really kind of fantabulous in this scene.) But as Susan points out, that doesn't really explain why he's wearing her underwear. Daddy gets her to promise not to tell his family about this, and she invites him to consider everything he has under the robe a gift. No, really. Take it.
Downstairs, Lynn Redgrave is already hard at work trying to convince Ian to ask Susan to sign a pre-nuptial agreement, based on Susan's financial woes (that comment about the wobbly chair, and the lack of funds needed to replace it, did not fall on deaf ears) and Susan's vindictive streak (the comment about Karl's assets wasn't missed, either). Ian balks, but his mother explains that if something dire should happen to Ian's marriage, she doesn't want to lose the "family estate" back in England, which they've owned for "generations." I actually don't think that's too terribly unreasonable a request, especially since the only thing Lynn Redgrave wants Susan to sign away is Ian's inheritance from his family, not his entire fortune... at least I think Ian's wealthy in his own right? Ian continues to protest, and Susan returns, overhearing some of the argument. At Susan's insistence, Lynn Redgrave explains what she's asking for, and Susan gets all wounded. Ian puts his foot down, and Lynn Redgrave snoots that she'll leave the family fortune to Ian's brother, then. Ian: "You think Nigel's going to give you a grandson? He's an alcoholic homosexual!" Lynn Redgrave: "With a castle at stake, he can learn a new skill." Zing! Daddy Hainsworth returns just as Lynn Redgrave is telling Susan not to be offended -- every woman goes into marriage thinking things are going to be perfection, but then she, say, stumbles across a bill for "expensive lingerie" in someone else's size, located in her husband's pocket. Susan and Daddy exchange a look.
Scavoria. Lynette comes across a bunch of the wait staff sitting around on break and takes the opportunity to incite some employee discord about the dumb tee issue. Seriously, could this plotline be any more inane? Didn't we already resolve the work-related power struggles between Lynette and Tom over the last couple of episodes? It just feels like we're starting all over again with this plotline, without any acknowledgement of the progress made so far, which is fantastically frustrating. Worse still, it isn't even entertaining -- this storyline feels like work to me. And of course Lynette's plan to get the employees on her side backfires: no one besides Lynette seems to have any issues with the tees, and talk quickly spirals on to other complaints (they want to stop pooling their tips, they want health care, they want a pitcher not a belly itcher, etc.). Then, when one of the curvier employees even goes so far as to say she likes the uniform, Lynette tells her that she overheard a customer saying that Curvy looks like a Halloween pumpkin. Aaaand I'm back to hating Lynette. I realize that Lynette has just as much riding on the success of this restaurant as Tom does (i.e., their pooled life savings), and she certainly has the right to co-run things with him. But she has acknowledged on numerous occasions that he is the boss and that she is willing and happy to report and defer to him. If she wants to renegotiate those terms, she should talk to Tom directly like a grown adult woman, versus sidewinding the employees into a divisive, idiotic tee-party revolution. Oh, and speaking as someone who at different times has been forced to wear a brown and orange polyester pantsuit (as a movie theater usher) and a red bowtie and flair buttons (as a waitress at Red Robin's), I happen to think the "Scavo's" tee is totally fine as is. Just fine!
So Tom walks in and catches the tail end of Lynette's mutinous speech to the employees. This, of course, prompts a big hissing fit of a fight. (Here's a sample: "It's just a uniform. Why can't you wear it?" Oh my god, exactly. Lynette: "Because I need to win one, Tom!" Oh god. Lynette is an infant. Aren't there child-brain labor laws in place to protect us from this?) In conclusion: Lynette walks off the job in a huff. Don't let the door hit you where the lord split you, Lynette!
And speaking of idiocy: here comes Gabby! Wearing a strange housecoat confusingly accented with a wide shiny red belt, she knocks on S&P's door (clearly foreknowing that he's not going to be home), and the maid answers. Gabby babbles something about how she had too many iced teas at lunch and needs to use the bathroom, then pushes past the maid and runs upstairs to the Magic Closet. After pausing momentarily to take in the wonder of it all, she starts putting on dresses, putting on dresses, putting on dresses, just one on top of the other. Looking like the Michelin Man with her coat belted over all the layers (ah, so that's why), she waddles out to her car, telling the maid she feels "ten pounds lighter." And the spicy "Oh Gabby, you wit" music trills.
Mike walks up to Susan as she's unloading groceries from her car, and straight-up asks her about his movie memory. But, big surprise (I'm serious, I really didn't see this coming), it turns out the movie he's been half-remembering is actually a scene from their life together! His and Susan's! Apparently, the morning after their first Night Together (by which I mean the first time he sunk his Sea Wee into her lily pad sponge), she celebrated by making him pancakes in the shapes of letters that spelled out M-I-K-E. Awww, that is romantic. Boyfriend Marco, are you reading this? I want E-V-A-N-Y pancakes for my birthday! Only I want each letter to have a different flavor: like, and this is just a suggestion, pumpkin, blueberry, chocolate chip, banana walnut, and raspberry. And I want them in that order. Hello? Why are you packing? Mike and Susan laugh over the hilarious pancake memories until Susan catches herself and scuttles inside the house. The camera pans to reveal a sour-looking Ian, who's clearly been watching the whole scene.
Rotary rotisserie. S&P compliments Gabby on the dress she's wearing, which is, of course, one of her haul from the Ex's closet. The dress itself is mildly cute -- it's a lime green strapless sheath with turquoise piping -- but it doesn't exactly look couture to me... more like a really great find at Ross. S&P offers to reimburse Gabby for the cost of the dress, but she quips HILARIOUSLY that it was actually a total "steal." She heads off to the bathroom to "powder her nose" (FBI, those are actual quote quotes, and not sarcastic "by which I mean snort cocaine" quotes), and just guess who she runs into. GUESS! That's right: S&P's Ex, who of course immediately recognizes the one-of-a-kind dress. Apparently it, too, is made by the elusive "Andari." Same-Size Ex threatens Gabby with a pepper-spray-down (aw, no sexy bathroom cat brawl?), and Gabby is forced to strip down to her baby-blue bra and lacy boy-brief panties. What, again? It's so weird how that keeps happening to Gabby on this show.
Outside, Same-Size Ex goes out and shows S&P the dress, and then fells him with one mighty bitch punch.
S&P Victor arrives to rescue Gabby in the bathroom. Through the door, she yells that she has a "funny story" about meeting his Ex. "Yeah," he yells, "she brought me up to speed!" The line is timed perfectly with Gabby opening the door to find S&P, standing there holding an ice pack to his eye, earning a half-ha from yours truly. S&P hands Gabby his coat, and the Desperate "What the Hell Else Did You Think Would Happen, Gabby?" music swells.
Travers and Carlos are sitting on Edie's living room floor, gluing the model plane together as Edie -- sipping wine and wearing a very hott dress, her hair tucked back into a loose fuck-me twist -- hovers overhead, sucking up all those glue fumes but good. Edie tick-tocks that it's time for Travers to hit the hay, and Carlos volunteers to take the kid upstairs. While he's busy tucking Travers in upstairs (literally!), Edie busts a wing flap off the plane. When Carlos returns, Edie damsels about the broken plane, and Carlos gamely offers to fix it. But as soon as he gets started, Edie starts rubbing herself all up him. Weirdly enough, he pushes her away, saying that he's actually looking for a woman he can have a future with, not someone whose house is a revolving man door, and not someone who'd use her own son as "sex bait." Oh really, Carlos? Is that why you were trolling the worldwides for quality women like crzydncr206? And if that really is what you're looking for, didn't Edie's long haul with Karl adequately demonstrate her ability to settle down? Or maybe Edie's really, really been slutting it up as of late, but the camera's been too busy with Bree's storyline for us to see it? Is possible. Edie, offended by the "sex bait" comment, shows Carlos the serious hand, and then the serious door.
Lynette is on the phone, leaving a message for Tom, who's apparently a half-hour late coming home. Susan and Gabby are there, sipping beers and doing some lady-supporting about the Battle of the Tee. Gabby: "What kind of orange is this shirt, like a salmon or a coral?" Ha. Lynette whips out her shirt, and Gabby scowls: "Oh. Cheese Doodle." Ha again. Susan consoles that it's still not as bad as the "eye patch" and "stuffed parrot" she had to wear at the fish and chip place where she used to work. She lecher-winks one eye and growls, "Would you like to hear ARRRRRRR specials?" Which would be funny, if pirates weren't so totally 2004. (Actually, why do pirates even say "ARRRR" like that? Is it the rum? The salt? The missing limbs? Seriously, I want to know.) Lynette mercy-laughs at Susan's pirate impersonation, and then gives an emotional little speech about how the fight isn't about t-shirts anymore, it's about her entire working relationship with Tom. And their marriage. Lynette gets so worked up, she decides to go down to the restaurant this very second and tell Tom that she needs to "step back," and to maybe "hire a manager" to replace her. Lynette leaves, and Susan and Gabby sit there for a few beats, sipping their beers. Susan: "So I guess this means we're babysitting the kids, huh?"
So Lynette arrives down at the restaurant, raring for some heart-to-hearting, only Tom's in no condition to be upbraided: he's lying unconscious behind the bar. Lynette falls to her knees, checks to make sure he's breathing, and then calls 911. After stuttering the address and weepingly asking the operator to "please hurry," she directs at Tom one of her heartfelt, vein-glorious meltdowns: "If you leave me with a mortgage and a restaurant and five kids, I swear I will track you into the deepest pit of hell and make you pay." Not the most tempting message when it comes to luring someone back from the light? Felicity Huffman does the same great job that she always does with these high-emotion scenes, making us see the fear and the love through the bullying. And I tell you what, I totally wept up the first time I watched it, AND the second, and every time after that. (That said, my friend Sophia, a Season 1 fan who stopped watching in the dark days of Season 2 and only tuned in because I was staying at her house, turned to me, as I sniffled away, and said, "Nothing but dry eyes over here! This show pretty much sucks now, huh?")
Down at the hospital. Lynette confers with Tom's doctor and is fantastically relieved to discover that it's only a "ruptured disc"; though it was so painful that it actually caused him to pass out. It's a serious injury, and it's going to require surgery, which means it'll be about three months before Tom can walk again, and five months before he can work at the restaurant. So I guess now Lynette has six kids to look after?
Sexy Susan climbs into bed wearing a very black negligee, clearly well ready to have her rabbit rogered. Unfortunately, Ian's too busy fondling his pre-nup to appreciate her mood. It turns out Ian kind of wants her to sign it now, which hurts Susan's feelings (lack of trust, pessimism, blah, blah). Ian tries to pretend that he's just trying to put his parents' minds at ease, but Susan thinks that maybe this is about some lingering Mike issues, which Ian denies (and I sort of believe him on that front, for once). Susan, her voice dripping with disappointment, tells him she'll sign it. He tells her to "at least read it first." But she says, "I don't need to, I trust you." Zow! Except she doesn't really sign it, she just turns off the light and goes to sleep, wearing seven pounds of eye makeup. The tunnel of love, it appears, is closed for the night.
Mike informs his memory therapist that he's done with the brain work; the stuff he's digging up is just too, too painful. The background music takes a very mournful turn at this, so I guess we're supposed to be very sad that the Stoneman is walking away from love, etc.
Gabby hands over all the stolen dresses to Victor, who shakes his head scoldingly. Gabby: "Stop judging me; I was hopped up on couture." Victor hang-doggedly tells her that the Ex called in a lawyer over the whole affair, and Gabby, outraged, calls the Ex a "bitch," which Victor does not like, no he doesn't! His Ex was a good woman, and he drove her into the arms of couture by callously treating her like a beck-and-call girl! "I didn't marry an angry woman," he greeting-cards, "I just divorced one." Gabby up and decides that she likes this repentant "clueless, emotionally stunted workaholic" version of Victor tons more than the cocky asshole version. Wow, this is like a fairy tale. A fairy tale between two not-really-all-that-likable characters with shape-shifting motivations that revert or shift to meet the ever-fluctuating whims of the of their ogre script-writing masters. I sure hope it has a happy ending!
Susan, Ian, and his parents sit down for some pre-nupping. Susan makes one last attempt to talk them out of it, but when Lynn Redgrave urges her to sign "all three copies," Susan starts dropping some blackmail-ish double entendres in Daddy's direction, about how, once she's married to Ian, she'll be telling him everything, there'll be nothing that she'll need to "skirt," nothing that she won't "ad...dresss," etc. Eventually Daddy cracks and goes to town ripping up the pre-nup. Lynn Redgrave does some British tutting and sputtering, but Daddy hushes her by saying that, clearly, Susan's willingness to sign indicates that "she can be trusted." Though clearly not; that was actually pretty underhanded on Susan's part, and kind of pointless. The damage -- Ian actually asking her to sign the thing -- was already done, so she really didn't gain anything by not signing. Unless he really is planning to take Ian for half a castle? Does anyone remember why these two are together anymore, like at all?
Edie comes home and discovers a huge bouquet of apology flowers from Carlos sitting on her doorstep. Smiling, she heads on over to his place (and Mike's!) to thank him in person. After some friendly joking about Travers, who is currently safe and sound at a friend's house -- no, Edie did not leave him at home alone "with a six-pack and some matches" -- Carlos tries to apologize again for what he said, but she stops him, saying he totally "nailed" her: "Maybe not the way that I wanted you to, but..." Edie confesses that she's tired of being a "forty-year-old party girl," and to prove how serious she is about being serious, she...strips off all her clothes! It's actually kind of an emotional scene -- with each piece of clothing she takes off, she points out what, exactly, it was hiding and how real a woman it makes her: her drawers hide her C-section scar, her bra "holds [her] breasts a little higher than they are on their own these days" (ha, I'm so sure; whatever Nicollette's hoisting around these days is still riding higher than the junk of half the twenty-year-olds out there). Once she's stark raving naked, she says, "This is it! Hi Carlos, I'm Edie. I might not be the woman you thought I was under all of that, but I'm real, and I'm here, and I'm asking for a chance." Does that sound cringy to you? Especially that "Hi Carlos, I'm Edie" part? Well, rest assured it's about four times cringier in the flesh. That said, Nicollette does do a pretty good job with it, though it feels very much like a Scene From An Acting Class (so good for the reel!). Nonetheless, Carlos envelops her in a big man hug and starts stroking her hair. (They're totally going to do it! And by "do it," I mean "play hide the penis in the vagina") Hmm. Edie sure sounded sincere, and what I saw of her nakedness sure looked sincere, but I can't quite shake the idea that, for a woman who was eyeing her sixty-something gardener within the past Earth week, Edie's downshifted into Relationship-Getting Mode awfully fast. Edie is a man-getting machine, right? So maybe this soul-baring, and crazy cooter-baring, scene was just another feature of her ensnaring software. Also, what about Edie swooping in on Gabby's ex-husband (usually a no-no among friends)? I guess I wouldn't put that past Edie, either. But going for a guy who's also the roommate of the man she supposedly loved (Mike) but then dropped like a hot tomato the second he ran into legal troubles? That's a lot of uncomfortable for one hookup. Just imagine Mike's surprise if he strolled into his living room at just this moment. Actually, never mind: his expression probably wouldn't even shift from its default fave: Rocky Constipation (also a new flavor from Ben and Jerry's!).
Brokeback Hospital. Lynette, looking frazzled around the gills, fields a call from Andrew, and she earnestly informs him that the Scavoria will be open tonight, same as always -- you bet your sweet, tight anchovies it will. "It's my job now," she says, her voice filled to the rim with woe and courage. The "Now I Get to Wear Whatever Color Tee I Please" music swells!
And it's MAVO wrap-up time! Scavo HQ. Lynette, wearing nothing but a bra -- hey, is this a record? Four out of five housewives shown in their skivvies, all in one episode? And the fifth (Bree) wasn't even in the episode (you'll notice she wasn't even mentioned, let alone seen) -- roots around in her closet. MAVO: "In every housewife's closet, there's an article of clothing that tells you more about its owner than she would want you to know. It might be a shirt that she despises," Lynette pulls down the dreaded orange tee, "but wears without complaint." So I guess Petty Officer Lynette is now Captain Hero, because she's opting to wear the despised tee? Whatever.
MAVO: "Perhaps it's some lingerie that she knows isn't hers, but refuses to discuss." Ian's mother discovers a huge lacy thong in her husband's pocket, her face an ice-mask of shame and hurt, and then crumples it up and returns it to the pocket from whence it came.
MAVO: "Or a dress she once loved that she can no longer bear to look at." S&P's ex-wife picks up the dress Gabby wore to the luncheon, now the last one hanging in the closet, and then returns it -- she's leaving it behind, it's just too tainted with regrets and Gabby vibes.
Over at Gabby's, S&P Victor hands gifts her a fancifloaty grey dress with sparkly trim. An Andari, perhaps? I get it, we're supposed to feel all gooey that these star-crossed lovers are finally giving it a go, and maybe I would if I hadn't spent the last 60+ episodes with a Gabby who clearly would have had no problem whatsoever dating the cocky asshole version of this man. Pffft.
MAVO: "Yes, you can learn about women from what they choose to wear. You can learn even more by what they choose to take off," Edie lies in bed, naked and dozing, "and WHO [sic] they take it off for." Carlos wiggles into frame and clamps into Classic Spoons behind her. Aw yes, it is ON! Except...
...coming up week: Carlos and/or Edie is/are bad in bed!