By Evany
Bree keeps on insisting that she's not a boozehound, and yet...who passes out in the dressing room at McMacy's and gets locked in for the night? Granted, she had her reasons: Andrew (because he's bad, he's bad, you know it) had just threatened to spread lies that she'd molested him as a child if she didn't greenlight his emancipated-minor plan. So Bree gets stuck halfway out the store's spring-loaded gates, and is forced to call her new AA friend (who is cute in a hemp-ish sort of way) for help. Later, while sitting in AA Friend's car after he and a security guard extricate her from her predicament, Bree finally breaks down and semi-admits that she might have a problem with alcohol. Diagnosis? Aw! Elsewhere, it's Danielle's birthday, so Caleb celebrates by hiding in her room and scaring the pants off her (only metaphorically, much to his apparent chagrin). Danielle screams at him and calls him a "freak" until he leaves -- a move that is almost surely going to come back and bite her in the ass, perhaps even literally? Diagnosis? Duh. After last week's pre-surgery-drugs-induced confession that she still loves Mike, Susan tries to smooth things over with Dr. Ron by lying that she doesn't know any Mikes. She also invites Dr. Ron to dinner with Karl so that her young lover can see for himself how so not in love she is with her nominal husband. But Karl, for some strange reason (he's still in love with Susan), sabotages Susan's efforts by manufacturing a plumbing emergency and then sending Dr. Ron over to Mike's for help. Mike, falling right in with evil genius Karl's plan, promptly introduces himself to Ron and volunteers that he's, you know, Susan's ex? Susan is still recovering from her surgery and thus is confined to a wheelchair, so there's the inevitable ridiculous scene where she rolls out into the street to explain her little Mike lie to Ron, she falls out of her chair, Mike and Ron get into a shoving match, Ron drives off, and Susan blames all her romantic failure(s) on Mike. Diagnosis? Whatever. When the Solises' adoption lawyer presents them with an unbelievably ugly -- like "witch makeup" ugly -- expecting mother, Gabby puts her foot down: no ugly genes for her baby! So the lawyer presents them with a conniving yet hot stripper mommy. Hot Stripper Mommy plays hard-to-get by pretending she doesn't want to give her baby to "Mexicans," until Gabby promises her lots of jewelry and money. Diagnosis? Scam! Lynette hires a friend for a job at her ad agency, but is surprised in a bad way to discover that the woman breastfeeds her son at work. Oh yeah, and also, the son is five years old. Lynette, of course, interferes by sneaking the kid some chocolate milk, thereby turning him off breastmilk forever. This makes Lynette's friend sad because now, without the constant calorie drain of regular milkings, she now has to join a gym. Diagnosis? Ew!
Previously: remember last week? Then you're fine.
This week, the MAVO montage is all Gabby. "Gabrielle Solis," MAVO tells us, "had always been a demanding shopper. And whatever the purchase, she always expected the very best." Flashback on a delivery guy dropping off a box MAVO tells us is full of "exotic perfumes shipped over from Paris." Same delivery guy, different day, different box; this time it's a "high-fashion gown straight from a runway in Milan." And then again he's at the door with a whole stack of shoe boxes (and they're actual shoe boxes -- not cardboard shipping boxes -- which have been taped shut in a haphazard way that no postal organization would ever allow, but I nitpick). These, MAVO tells us, are "designer shoes flown in from Manhattan."
Back in the now, Gabby is waiting anxiously at her front door. Carlos comes down and they kiss and smile at each other with eager anticipation. Today is the day they meet the birth mother of their baby! Together Gabby and Carlos open the door with Christmas-morning thrill. And there, waiting for them, is That Guy Sleaze, the lawyer, with a pregnant woman. The woman is, how you say..."totally gnarly"? As in phenomenally over-the-top, "Have fun storming the castle!" gnarly: she's got the unibrow, the blotchy skin, the horrible moles, the Halloween-store teeth, and the greasy, home-bound hair with random chunk pulled back into a scrunchie. It's as if a seventh-grader were given free rein of a makeup kit and told to make this woman look like a dirty witch. A dirty pregnant witch. Who never, ever flosses. HILARIOUS! So Gabby gets a look at the dirty, mole-riddled, unibrowed witch, and her face freezes into a brittle, trapped-animal grimace of a smile. MAVO, with her patented insane glee, quips that, regarding this particular transaction, shop-savvy Gabby has a "problem the manufacturer."
Inside, the foursome sip lemonade as the dirty witch enthusiastically gushes that she's just hoping to give her baby to "people who have what it takes to be great parents." Carlos jumps to assure the woman of how great he and Gabby will be as parents, but Gabby's a little distracted, and totally misses her cue to back Carlos up in his rah-rah-ing. Carlos shoots her a look, and Gabby excuses them and drags Carlos out on to the front porch, where she informs him that under no circumstances will they adopt a baby with dirty-witch genes! Carlos, to his credit, doesn't immediately know what Gabby's talking about, but then it sinks in: "Oh my god, are you trying to say that you don't want Deanna's baby because she's plain?" And the way he says "plain" like that, such a polite and sensitive term for the heavy-handed fright-mask monster within, makes me love him just a little. Gabby, however, finds the term too anemic for the circumstances: "'Plain' I can handle! Carlos, since that woman has walked into our house, the clocks have stopped working." Carlos points out that there's no way of knowing what the baby's going to look like, and for all they know, the dirty witch's baby might grow up and win "beauty contests." But Gabby's not buying what he's selling: "With her DNA? The only thing that kid's going to be winning is Best In Show." I'm not sure if you know this yet, but Gabby kind of sucks? Carlos puts his foot down, telling her he's not going to let her "shallow obsession with looks" mess up this opportunity. Yeah! Gabby is all "fine," but adds that when Carlos has to "cuddle and snuggle" a baby outfitted with Deanna's face, he can't "come crying" to Gabby. In other words, if they wind up with an ugly baby, Gabby refuses to hug or hold it? Awesome.
Gabby and Carlos go back inside, and TG Sleaze chatters about how things are going to work the day of the actual birth. Meanwhile, the dirty witch goes in for some chips and guacamole. She pops a loaded chip it in her mouth, and then, with full mouth, she smiles wide at Carlos. In slow motion, we see her guacamole-smeared pie hole smack open and closed, and then her horrible tongue grinds out and licks more guac off the chip. It's somehow very much like porn, while at the same time, the very polar opposite of porn. Carlos, who's watching the display in horror (mentally Photoshopping the woman's face, with its green-paste worm-hole of a mouth, atop their adopted bouncing baby's body), starts to squirm in his seat. Gabby looks at him knowingly, and MAVO reminds us again of what a "demanding shopper" Gabby is.
Later and outside, Gabby puts the woman into the TG Sleaze's car, and then slaps the roof of the car twice, like a jaded cop. "Sorry," she says through the window, though clearly she isn't at all. MAVO commends Gabby for being so savvy, seeing as this is one item that "can't be returned." (Though so many grown men try!) And while I know that Gabby and Carlos probably think they're rejecting her, the dirty witch is probably is hugely relieved, since clearly the Solises don't have what it takes to be good, loving, "no matter what"-type parents, which was her one requirement. And...roll the FULL CREDIT SEQUENCE!
When we come back, we see dirty Deanna getting rolled into the hospital on a gurney. MAVO talks us through it: it's the very day, and Deanna has gone in to premature labor. In fact, she's gearing up to deliver a baby that is destined to be a "incredibly attractive baby boy."
Five hours later, we feast our eyes on Deanna's "newborn" baby in the very act of emerging from betwixt Deanna's pearly gates (and yet there's zero gore and that baby's six months if he's a day, yay television).
, we're treated to a super-gross shot of the obstetrician clipping the rubbery and disgusting umbilical cord, like it's the grand opening of some kind of macabre mall. MAVO uses this opportunity to segue into...
...the Dr. Ron and Susan story. Apparently, at this exact same moment, in the exact same hospital, Dr. Ron is strolling into Susan's room to sever some rubbery and disgusting ties of his own. Dr. Ron makes small talk for about two seconds, then he digs right in: "Who's Mike?" Susan tries to buy some time by hemming, hawing, and crashing her wheelchair into, first, her bed, and then into the wall. The wall! Ron spells it out for her: just before surgery -- you know when, he told her he loved her -- she told him she loved "Mike." And then, Susan? The woman who should know more than anyone the cost of lying to a man about something that will almost certainly come back to haunt her? She lies to Dr. Ron! She tells him that she doesn't know anyone named Mike, which is insane, seeing as everyone knows like four different Mikes. Note to Susan: if you're going to be idiotic enough to lie, then at least make up something that sort of sounds believable. Like, "Oh, Mike's the name of the boy I lost my virginity to! How fond that memory truly is!" Or "So, I'm in love with Michael J. Fox. Who isn't?" Or, I don't know, make a "Michael Hunt" joke. Anything would have been better than "I don't even know a Mike." Then again, Dr. Ron was the one who thought it was a good idea to broach the topic of love with someone who was clearly way out of it on drugs, plus seconds away from having her body sliced open, so maybe he's getting what he deserves here. Ron: "Everyone knows a Mike." That's what I said! Without making eye contact, Susan agrees that she may have known a Mike, back in college: "We did this play together. Pippin. It wasn't very good." Which is almost funny. Susan's story trails off with some weak comment about how she was probably "just hallucinating." Since Susan clearly isn't coming clean, Ron skips to the issue: "So, who's the guy you're married to?" Susan curses Nurse Negligence for spilling the beans, and then explains the whole insurance-fraud thing, how she was just trying to protect Ron from prosecution, et cetera. And then she pats little Ron on the knee and invites him to come over to her house for a meal with Karl, so that Ron can see that there's so nothing between her and her nominal husband. Ron looks thrown: exactly how did his dump-talk get so derailed? He asks her some final, clarifying Qs: she plans on getting a divorce just as soon as she's recovered? Susan swears "that's the plan." Then he grills her on the Mike point. Is she absitively, posolutely sure that she loves no one by the name of Mike? Susan does her patented lie-gulp and bobs her head, "Sure," like a rubber-lipped puppet. And Dr. Ron...totally buys it! They hug, and Ron tells Susan's neck that he believes her. And Susan gives a "wha-huh?!" sort of look, like even she can't believe Ron has forgiven her. Or maybe it's befuddled disappointment, like she was secretly hoping it was over? Hm.
At Bree's cross-town AA meeting, a hangdog-looking man is telling his story about hitting bottom (which turns out to have nothing to do with slapping ass, who knew?), and Bree is busying herself with some needlepoint. Wow, needlepoint. Old-school! The man finishes his lying-in-a-pool-of-his-own-vomit tale, and everyone claps. A semi-hot hemp-ish sort of man, who is tonight's group leader, volunteers Bree to go . Bree: "Oh, um. I couldn't possibly top that. Thank you, though." Ha! The circle of alcoholics exchange glances.
When the meeting's over, Bree busies herself cleaning up donut crumbs. Holy shit, I would give blood for a donut right about now. Hempy sidles up to her, and she makes a sassy little opener about how "messy substance abusers can be." He comes back with a joke about leaving the crumbs for the Overeaters Anonymous group. "You're awful," Bree flirts. Hempy asks Bree how long she's been sober, but she can't remember. Red flag! Everyone I know who's in AA remembers exactly how long they've been sober. Like, down to the day, hour, even minute. Hempy: "Oh...Is somebody still drinking?" Bree: "Now, why would you say that?" Hempy: "I've never an alcoholic yet who didn't know exactly how long it'd been since his last drink." Exactly! So Bree levels with him that she's not really an alcoholic. Hempy: "You don't say!" She explains that she's only coming to meetings to make it look like she's a willing and responsible parent, so that she can beat Andrew's emancipated-minor lawsuit. Hempy clearly doesn't believe Bree about the not-being-a-lush thing, but he's very nice about it: he gives her his card and invites her to contact him if she ever needs to talk or anything. Bree, still in flirt mode, says she knows what he thinks, but that, really, she's "nothing like" Hempy and the other alkies. Ugh. Bree, with MAVO-style brightness: "I just don't have a compulsive personality!" She turns and leaves, and Hempy looks down at the donut table, which is compulsively tidy, the napkins expertly arranged. And cue the lonely "delusional alcoholic" oboe.
And over to Lynette, who is in her office, and cutting the string off a pink box of...donuts. You see the way they did that? Lynette is trying to lure a friend/former coworker named Veronica (whose shirt is unbuttoned to reveal tightly compressed barmaid's cleavage to rival Bossy Boobs's) away from the Veronica's current place of employment. But Veronica and her breasts aren't all that impressed with the salary Lynette's offering. Lynette tries to sweeten the deal with mention of an expense account and a corner office. Hm, well, Veronica and her breasts need to think about it. But first: another donut! Lynette: "Okay, what is your secret? How can you eat like that and keep your figure?" Veronica and her breasts dish that it's all thanks to the breastfeeding, which she describes as "like having a treadmill strapped to your chest." Which is a somewhat problematic metaphor? Like, her breasts are exercise equipment? But then...how would she exercise on her own breasts? Are other people running on her breasts? Is that what keeps the weight off? Lynette coos that she didn't know Veronica and her breasts have a child, and Veronica and her breasts coo that indeed they do: his name is Donovan and he's the "love of [her] life." And this reminds Lynette of one more perk: the office daycare plan!
Lynette and Veronica tour the play space, and Veronica (I'm going to stop mentioning her breasts now, but only to save my typing fingers...because rest assured, those things remain shockingly prominent throughout the entire episode) is totally impressed. In fact, she seems almost ready to sign on, except: will the people in this office be cool about her breastfeeding Donovan? Lynette assures her that "Parcher and Murphy is completely mother-friendly. No one would say a word." And that seals the deal: Veronica's on board! Just then, the Scavo Ps up-end an entire table full of toys and art supplies, and a scandalized Veronica asks whose kids those are. Lynette: "I have absolutely no idea." Huh. I wonder if that lie will ever become apparent?
Down at TG Sleazy's, Gabby and Carlos are thumbing through profiles of different mothers, and they're all totally hideous! Gabby is sad. Gabby is frustrated. Didn't she make it clear, no fuggers? TG Sleazy: "Look, finding a gorgeous pregnant woman who's willing to give her baby to a couple with a criminal record isn't exactly a walk in the park." Well, sure. Gabby tuff-talks that she doesn't "care if it's a walk in the sewer." Either way, she "expect[s] results" regarding all the money they're forking over. TG Sleazy gives Gabs a word of advice about catching flies with honey v. vinegar, and she parries that if she really wanted flies, she'd call up one of the ugly pregnant women, because I guess flies love ugly? Or something? Whatever: Gabby is sassy mad. Carlos is defeated and disgusted. TG Sleazy's secretary intercoms that there's a woman here to see them. TG stands and tells the Solises that he "took the liberty" of inviting this woman down to meet them. She may not be a "quality human being," but she's at least good-looking. And if Carlos and Gabby don't like this one, TG is out of ideas. And with that, he throws his pencil into a cup on his desk, and the camera lingers there in a weirdly important way. Will this pencil feature prominently in some future murder investigation? Or is it some kind of sexual metaphor? Whatever it is, it's going to be BIG. In walks the pregnant "Libby," and she's blonde and cute (kind of like a poor-man's Bridget Fonda). Gabby, leaning in to Carlos: "Now this, I can work with."
After a commercial break to let that sink in, we return to the adoption office. Libby is explaining that she's in debt, she doesn't know who the father is, and she's a pole dancer at a strip club, but she "really wants to be a choreographer": in fact, she "made up this one move, called the Serpent's Tongue? And all the girls at the club are doing it now." Carlos rather pervily volunteers that he and Gabby will have to come down to the club and get an eyeful of Serpent's Tongue, and Gabby is all, yeah right. After some more small talk (Libby hopes they don't think she's a slut; Gabby scoffs), Carlos says they've heard enough: they'd be happy to adopt Libby's baby! But then Libby makes some noise about money, which freaks out Sleazy; buying babies is illegal, he hastens to clarify. Libby can, of course, make a list of her expenses, which the Solises will pick up. And yet, Libby wonders aloud, a friend of hers gave up her baby, and the couple gave that woman a Harley. Carlos chuckles that he might not be able to afford a Harley, but he's sure they "can find some way to express [their] gratitude." Libby nods, but her eyes zero in on Gabby's gigantic diamond ring and Carlos's watch (which I'm guessing is spendy). And the piquant plucking of "get ready to pay and pay (and pay)" violins swells! Libby gets up to leave, and they all exchange goodbyes. Gabby corrects Libby on her pronunciation of "Solis," and it comes out that Gabby and Carlos are of Mexican decent, and not Italian as Libby had thought (and clearly hoped). More with the ominous violin-ing!
Later, over at Susan's house, Gabby, Bree, and Susan are gathered around the coffee table, which is groaning under the weight of an immense muffin basket (oh Bree, you shouldn't have). Susan is in a post-op wheelchair, which seems a little over-the-top considering that my dad didn't get a wheelchair when he got out of the hospital, and he'd had open-heart surgery. But (once again I say) okaaaay. The three of them are oohing and ahhing over photos of Libby, who they all agree is "gorgeous." Gabby: "It's all natural, from her straight teeth to her C-cup. And I know she's athletic, because she's a pole dancer. So I really hope that my little girl inherits that as well!" Bree stares at her, and Gabby clarifies that she meant the "athletic gene, not the pole-dancing gene," and Susan laughs in relief. Then Karl comes in through the, I guess, back door and calls out, "Susie Baby!" As Karl wheels Susan off to another room for a little chat, Bree and Gabby gossip about how apparently Susan and Karl no longer hate each other.
Meanwhile, in the other room, Susan tells Karl that she needs him to come over for dinner with Ron tomorrow night. Karl: "Now, why would I do that?" Susan: "Well, for starters, because you banged your secretary and you owe me for the rest of your life." Wow how I hate the word "bang," and yet...giggles!
Back in Muffin Corner, Gabby is shocked by the news (about Karl and Susan being friendly), but Bree confesses that, before Mike came along at least, she'd always assumed Karl and Susan would get back together, based on how awesome they were as a couple. Oh, what "spark" and "passion" they shared, and how deliciously they would "make each other laugh"!
And back to Karl, who is...laughing! He is thoroughly titillated by the news that drugged Susan declared her love for Mike. Once he finally stops laughing, he asks what she told Ron afterward, and she tells him about her retarded "I don't know any Mikes" strategy. Karl: "Everyone knows a Mike." Exactly! Susan explains that she knows it was stupid (well, at least she knows; that's something), but Dr. Ron hadn't come to see her after the operation, and she was feeling insecure, and she "just didn't feel like the truth was a luxury [she] could afford." And yet...stupid! She tells him to "resume laughing." Still chuckling with her, Karl wheels Susan back into the living room. Karl bids his adieus, and then kisses Susan on her forehead and leaves. The ladies stare and stare, and Susan gives a little marionette "What?"
Veronica is presenting a pitch to Lynette, which Lynette loves. Apparently, Veronica really snapped to it, seeing as both she and Lynette are wearing the exact same outfits they were wearing during the donut interview, meaning this is supposed to be the same day? Are we to believe that Veronica skipped giving notice at her other job? Lynette gets a phone call from Tom just as Veronica's nanny appears in the lobby (another super-duper act of scheduling, rearranging things so the nanny would come down to Veronica's new office with zero warning, but...okaaaay). Veronica excuses herself to go feed her son, and Lynette watches through the glass walls of her office as a little boy wanders in after the nanny and Veronica goes and picks him up. Lynette keeps talking, but clearly she's distracted by what she's seeing, which is Veronica leading the little boy off to a conference room and then closing the blinds. Lynette stutters that she'll call Tom right back, and then she creeps over and peers through the partly cracked verticals and spies the boy with his head at Veronica's breast. The kid, I should mention, is about five years old. Lynette's face curdles, and then Ed happens along, and he takes a look. After a second, he figures out what he's seeing, and he chirps, "Oh my god!" And then he and Lynette spring off in two different directions.
Andrew and his lawyer are pow-wowing in Andrew's room. Bree walks in, looking fresh and very throw-back with her hair swept back in a bun, pearls around her neck, a short-sleeved sage-green cashmere sweater, slacks, and a cute apron. She's carrying a tray full of sandwiches and drinks. "I thought you and your friend might like some snacks," she says with a huge smile. Andrew reminds her that this is his lawyer, not his friend, and that "this is privileged information" they're talking over, so he commands her to leave. The lawyer scolds Andrew for being rude, and thanks Bree for her kindness. Bree matter-of-factly explains that while she's still "appalled" that the lawyer is helping Andrew with his emancipation scheme (and for free, too, since Andrew doesn't even have money for a car, let alone a lawyer?), the man is still a guest, and "guests get sandwiches." Andrew snarks that she wouldn't have to be nice to his lawyer if Bree would let Andrew leave the house. Bree: "There may be a judge out there stupid enough to emancipate you, but until you find him, I retain all my parental rights, one of which is to ground your sorry behind until kingdom come." Bree asks them not to "get crumbs on [her] carpet," and then she takes her leave. Andrew: "You have got to get me out of here. That bitch is driving me crazy." The lawyer advises Andrew that since his case is no longer a slam dunk, what with Bree in AA, Andrew needs to find a way to convince her to let him go. Because if they actually wind up going to court, Bree's going to win; in cases like these, it's all about appearances: "And if there's one thing your mom understands..." Andrew finishes the thought: "It's presentation." Lawyer takes a big bite of sandwich, and then he shakes his head approvingly.
Over to the Applewrongs. Ahhh, remember them? It's been so very long. What was it they're hiding, again? Oh right, they've got the accused axe murderer Caleb, and also the cover-up of PI Ironside's accidental death. Okay, I'm ready. So Betty is playing her magical piano when Matthew comes in to ask if he can borrow fifty dollars. This is a pretty boring scene, so I won't go into too much, other than to say that Danielle's birthday is coming up and Matthew needs the money for some jewelry. (I'm not sure what kind of jewelry he thinks he's going to get for that kind of change; maybe he has some super-cute, local-designer silver charm necklace in mind? I can live with that. I don't think high school's the time for big, expensive gifts anyway.) Betty doesn't want to give him the money because she still doesn't like the idea of Danielle. ("Write her a poem," she tells Matthew. "It's free.") But Matthew pressures Betty by saying that since he can't get a job because she makes him spend his time looking after Caleb, maybe it's time to put Caleb "away." Just then, Caleb walks in and asks what they're fighting about. Betty, picking up on Matthew's implied threat, tells Caleb that all is well, and then she hands Matthew a twenty. Twenty dollars? For jewelry? Okay, that's sad. Looks like this year, Danielle's getting the kind of jewelry that turns skin green. Happy birthday!
Down at the Got Milk (But Wish We Didn't) agency, everyone's hunkered down in a meeting when Donovan walks right in and tells Veronica that he's "thirsty." Why is he wandering around the office? I don't know. Maybe it's the afternoon, so he's out of school, and he somehow escaped from daycare? Veronica apologizes that "this'll just take a sec," and then she steers Donovan out of the conference room, and everyone at the table quietly barfs in their mouths. Ed: "Is it just me or is [Veronica's breastfeeding a five-year-old] bizarre?" One of the guys at the table agrees, and then everyone puts down their bagels in synchronized comedic revulsion. Ed says that they need to put a stop to it, but Lynette reminds him that they can't lose Veronica, and that if they put a stop to the freaky breastfeeding, the woman will walk. Ed argues that it's a "distraction," plus "god forbid if a client sees her." Okay then, who's going to tell her? Why, Lynette, of course! Ed: "You're a woman. It's easier for you to talk about milk and boobs and stuff." Lynnette tries to fight it, but then one of the other guys at the table (and they're all guys) announces, "I made a pass at her yesterday; it'd be weird." Ha! Ed: "Come on, Lynette, take one for the team!" Lynette finally agrees. "But for the record," she informs them, "the 'team' is made up of wimps." Ed: "Oh, well, the team's aware of that. And accepts your loathing." And ha again! Who would have guessed that the barely topical "inappropriate breastfeeding" storyline would be the funniest of the episode? Or maybe this is actually a hot issue. It's been a while since I've been trapped in a corporate job (like fifteen years?), so maybe they're throwing breast milk ice cream parties in the break room these days, what do I know.
Cut to Gabby pouring a tall, tall glass of milk. Ooh! I'm very supportive of the topical crossovers this week (even though I'm having trouble imagining Gabby chugging milk by the glassful). Carlos is on the phone. Apparently, Serpent Tongue Libby has passed on the Solises as parents because she's big racist and doesn't want her baby going to Mexicans. Gabby: "WHAT! That's discrimination! That's illegal! We can have her arrested!" Carlos, with a sigh: "It's her baby; she can do whatever the hell she wants to." But Gabby isn't going to take this lying down: "No! You don't just toss people aside because of the color of their skin." Carlos: "We tossed those birth mothers aside because of their appearance." Nice! But that's different. Gabby: "I've read the constitution, and it doesn't protect ugly people." Carlos thinks they should just move on, but Gabby's wind is UP: "I want that woman's baby, and I'm going to get it." Her strategy? She's going to show Libby their tax records: "I have a feeling that once she sees how much money we have, I have a hunch we're going to look a whole lot whiter." Aww! I think I remember a similar "Mommy v. Would-be Mommy" scene in March of the Penguins!
Speaking of Mommy v. Mommy, it's confrontation time down at the dairy. Lynette approaches the topic of Veronica's breastfeeding issue as delicately as possible, starting with some polite comments about what a big, big boy Donovan is. But things turn uncomfortable fast. Veronica asks Lynette what she's driving at, and Lynette is forced to confess that the people around the office are a little thrown by the fact that her son is still breastfeeding at the age of five. At which point Veronica steps up to an invisible podium and starts lecturing Lynette about how breast milk boosts a kid's immune system, and that some third-world cultures breastfeed their babies until the age of six. Lynette, going for jokey-friendly: "Yeah, well, in the third world they don't have juice boxes." But Veronica's not laughing. She tells Lynette that it's up to Donovan to decide. Lynette says that baby birds need to be nudged out of the nest. Veronica counters that the practice has been linked to promoting intelligence in children, adding, "Maybe if you'd weaned your kids a bit later, they'd be more civilized." Lynette, not at all smiling now: "Ouch." Veronica: "I will not be judged by you or anyone else, and if people don't like my breastfeeding, they can talk to my lawyer."
Ron, Susan, and Karl are having a yuk-fest of a dinner together. Karl is telling some hilarious story about their divorce. Ron is eating it up, and Susan is smiling indulgently. Ron and Karl get up to do the dishes, but Ron leans in for some nuzzle-time with Susan first; Karl glances back and clearly he does not at all like what he sees. In the kitchen, Karl notices Mike drive up at his house across the street. And a look of evil Grinch genius spreads across Karl's face. He opens the cupboard under the sink and loosens a pipe until water starts to spray. Then he closes the doors and busies himself with something in the refrigerator. Ron finally comes in with the plates and notices the pool of water. Karl yells at Ron that there's a plumber living across the street by the name of "Delfino," and Ron goes trotting off to fetch him. (For some reason, I would have thought a budding surgeon would be innately good enough with his hands to want to try to fix the thing himself, but maybe his hands are too precious a commodity?)
Susan comes rolling in (she's still in a wheelchair, FYI), and asks where Ron went. Karl indicates that Ron's gone over to Mike's house. As Susan's face twists in horror, Karl does an excellent impression of someone suddenly aware of making a terrible faux pas. Crazy Susan frantically rolls herself out the front door, and then she rolls herself awkwardly down her front stairs. I might have gotten out of the chair at that point? But not crazy, crazy Susan. Across the street, Mike is handily inviting Ron to forego the "Mr. Delfino" and call him simply "Mike." A suddenly suspicious Ron asks Mike how long he's known Susan, and Mike volunteers that, actually, they used to date. Wow, Karl, nicely played! Back across the street, Susan tries to ride her wheelchair off the curb, and the jolt knocks her clear out of her chair. Ah, the slapstick stylings of the medically infirm! Ron -- who is one angry little doctor at this point -- goes steaming on over to prone Susan, yelling, "Liar!" Susan, who's just managed to struggle to her feet, grabs Ron's shirt and tells him she can explain. But he brushes past her, heading for his car, and she falls down again. Mike, who saw the exchange (which, from his point of view, looked like a shove from Ron), races over and grabs Ron, who is leaning over to try to help Susan up. Ron tries to explain to Mike that Susan's fall was an accident, but Mike didn't see it that way. The two men yell back and forth, and there's even a slight fit of fisticuffs and some awkward fighting version of The Running Man. Meanwhile, sneaky Karl is watching the whole thing through Susan's window, while gleefully eating pie! Ah, Karl, you crazy puppet master. My hat is off to you. Ron gets in his car while yelling at Susan that she's clearly still in love with Mike. Susan faintly begs Ron not to leave, but he drives off anyway. Susan rolls a sad little roll in the direction of Ron's retreating car, and then wheels back around and yells at Mike for scaring away her boyfriend, who wasn't actually hurting her, by the way. Susan wheels off, and Mike sort of stands there looking dazed. And so it goes: another street dump for Susan!
Down at the strip club, Libby is sitting in front of the stage, yelling instructions at a new stripper: "The pole is your friend. Push your boobs up against it." But the nascent stripper can't, regarding the newness of her breasts. Libby: "Well, do something, Cecile. I'm losing my wood down here." Wow. So in walks Gabby, and before you go thinking, "Oh yeah, Gabby is totally going to get up there and school these ladies some moves," don't get your hopes up. I know I did, and I'm still a little sullen about it. The stripper with the newly inserted boobs tells Gabby that her outfit is "kicking." Gabby, archly directing her reply to Libby: "I clean up well for a wetback, don't I?" Libby gives her the once-over, and then together, they go over to a table. Libby sort of half-heartedly explains that she's "not some kind of racist"; she's just looking out for her baby, and why settle for "middle-class Mexicans" when she can just as easily get "rich white folks." Gabby asks what it's going to take, and Libby looks at Gabby's diamond necklace, and then looks away, back, away, back. Gabby gets the hint and takes it off, handing it over to Libby. They do some bargaining: Gabby tells Libby that she and Carlos can expose Libby to lots of nice things, and after about three seconds, Libby says, "Okay." Gabby: "Just like that?" Pretty much! Though, as Libby points out, they probably shouldn't tell TG Sleazy about the arrangement, because then they'll have to "deal with percentages." Gabby, warmly: "I've always hated math." They shake hands, and it's one of those terribly unsatisfying lady-style handshakes, a sort of over-under half-strength bird thing (personally, I always just call a do-over when I'm subjected to one of those). Gabby goes to leave, but then she turns back. At last, she's caught on to what's going on here: "You never gave a crap that we're Mexican, did you?" Libby admits that she didn't, and that she thought that the Solises would be a tad more motivated to spread the wealth if they had a taste of rejection. Gabby: "Well, you're a lot smarter than I thought." Libby: "I'm smarter than everybody thinks." Mark those words, everybody!
Lynette's working away at her desk when Donovan the past, present, and future breast man comes in and says those terrible, terrible words: "I'm thirsty." And for a second I, like many people on the boards, thought for sure that he was going to make a grab for Lynette's biscuits. But no, he just asks what it is that she's drinking. And Lynette is all, what...this? This carton of delicious chocolate milk? A light bulb flashes in Lynette's shifty little brain, and she leads Donovan down the hall and lets him finish up her carton of milk. (Yes, literally!)
Bree's at McMacy's (really!), and she's having a late lunch and, duh, a glass of wine at the little fancy lunch counter in the middle of the store. The waiter comes over and asks her if she'd like more wine, but she sadly overshares that she doesn't have time for more boozing because she still has to find a cocktail dress for a charity event before the store closes. But...what's this? Bree spies Andrew and Justin paying for something at the counter just over yonder, and marches over and asks what's going on here, seeing as Andrew (a) is supposed to be trapped at home per the parameters of his grounding, and (b) has no money to go shopping with in the first place. Andrew flashes Bree her credit card, which he apparently lifted from her purse earlier. Bree grabs him by the elbow and starts marching him away, telling him that she's going to tell the judge all about this, and that it isn't going to help his case for Project Emancipation, no not at all. But then Andrew drops this little bomb: if she doesn't set him free, he's going to tell the judge and everyone that she abused him sexually, and that, while they might not all believe him, they'll always wonder. Yikes, Andrew just doesn't give a DAMN. Bree is understandably crushed by this announcement. And really what's worse: the lie itself, or the fact that her son is capable of it? Either way you slice it, it's very, very bad. Justin doesn't look all too pleased about his boyfriend's monster-like traits, either. Andrew struts off, and Justin reluctantly follows, but turns back and gives Bree a searching sort of look. Is he just silently trying to apologize for Andrew's actions? Or does that look imply some kind of future sympathetic teaming of Bree and Justin? Hmm. Completely shattered, Bree heads back over to the little chi-chi wine bar and takes the waiter up on his drink offer, instructing him to go ahead and leave the whole bottle.
Cut to Bree, lying sprawled on the floor of a dressing room. She's got a pretty emerald green dress on, and there's an empty wine bottle beside her. It's night, and she's totally alone in the store. I'm having some trouble imagining how this scene came into being. Like, how did she even get from the little restaurant island to the dressing rooms? Did she walk through the store, grabbing dresses and slugging wine from the bottle? That would be...embarrassing. And, also, I'm pretty sure the staff checks the rooms before they lock up. But let's just say that Bree is a very crafty drunk, and maybe she hid somewhere ingenious while all the usual failsafes played out, and then she made her way over to the dressing room for a "nap." So okay, Bree wakes up, and she's on the floor of a dressing room. She gets up and staggers out onto the main floor, which is completely dark. And wow, they sure did a nice job with making her look subtly terrible here, especially with the never-before-seen bags under her eyes. (Which makes the crazy dirty witch scenario at the beginning of the episode all the more irritating.) Bree, panicked now, runs over and bangs on the security bars that have been stretched across the front doors. And commercial!
When we return, Bree has changed out of the dress and back into her street clothes. She eyes the accordion-style stretch bars, which are clasped closed with a strange spring-lock. If only she had a leverage-making device of some sort. She walks over to a mannequin and stares it down. And...
...Bree has the mannequin's plastic arm in her hands, and she's using it to wedge the bars open wide enough to let her squeeze through. I'm not sure what she's going to do when she gets past the gates and has to contend with the glass doors themselves, which are almost surely rigged up with some kind of alarm? We never find out, though, because just when she's halfway through the bars, the plastic arm breaks and the gate snaps closed. Bree's trapped! Huh, I wonder why she didn't just sleep it off in the dressing room and then sneak out in the morning? That might have been easier.
Cut to the phone ringing in some guy's bedroom. Who the hell...oh right! Hempy. God, was that this same episode? Though it seems like decades since we first met him, I'm happy to report that Hempy still appears to have all his teeth. Actually, he looks pretty good, or at least his naked, naked chest does. Oh, and of course, it's the caged bird Bree on the other end of the phone, calling for help.
Hempy arrives at McMacy's, a security guard in tow. The security guard is totally tickled by the situation, and he self-snaps a cell-pic of himself grinning to Bree, much to her chagrin.
Later, in Hempy's car, Bree spills the whole story about Andrew's threats. Hempy, totally amazed: "Your son threatened you with repressed memories. Oh my god. He is seriously twisted. I gotta meet this kid." Bree, disgusted: "You sound like you're impressed." Hempy admits that he is, and that it "sounds like [Bree's] definitely raising an alpha male." Despite herself, Bree laughs weakly, but then she snaps, "I'm raising a monster, is what I'm raising. It's no wonder I drink." Realizing what she just said, she tries to back out of it by insisting that it doesn't necessarily mean that she has a problem. Hempy very nicely points out that passing out and getting trapped in a store might be construed as problematic. Bree fiercely stands her ground, claiming that this night was an "unusual situation." Hempy wisely says nothing; he just kind of looks at her sympathetically instead. And it does the trick. Bree crumbles, and in a very sad monologue, she tells Hempy that she wishes he could have met her when Rex was still alive, back when she was a much better Bree. She thinks Hempy might have liked her then. He really nicely tells her that he likes her fine now. Bree, so, so sadly: "Really? Because I don't." Aw.
Back at home, Danielle gets dropped off by a carload of friends. She walks in and calls out, but it appears as though no one is home. No one except...CALEB! Danielle finds him waiting for her in her room, and she's clearly totally freaked out. He stands and holds out a sparkly (stolen?) brooch. "Happy birthday," he says. Creepy Danielle tells him that he has to go home because if her "mom knew [he was] here, she'd freak." Caleb immediately starts getting all yell-y about why Danielle doesn't want to wear the pin, and then he kind of lunges toward her to, I guess, help her put it on? Danielle, who is understandably totally scared now, slaps the pin out of Caleb's hand and yells, "No! Didn't you hear me, you freak? Leave!" Uh oh. I know you're scared, Danielle, and I realize you might not know all of Caleb's story. And yet? Calling him a freak just goes against all that movies and television have taught us about how not to speak to potentially obsessive murderers. Caleb glares at her, and then he walks out. Good night, Danielle!
Veronica's weeping in her office when Lynette comes in to see what's wrong. Veronica tells her that everyone in the office can stand down; Donovan doesn't want her milk anymore. Lynette: "Already?" Oops! But then she saves the almost-spilt beans by immediately cooing sympathetically. She sits down and gives Veronica a nice little speech about how kids just have to grow up. And yet...that's not what's saddening Veronica. Really it's the fact that, with the end of the breastfeeding, away goes her treadmill chest. It's true! The real reason she's blue is because she's going to get fat! She doesn't care about IQs and third-world traditions at all; she just doesn't want to have to join a gym! As a reluctant gym subscriber who's never quite found that addictive exercise endorphin rush that people rave about, I completely sympathize with the gym dread. And yet, when the alternate is having a five-year-old suckle your nipples publicly, the gym sounds positively fantastic. Plus, they have a steam room there. You know, a sick part of me also wonders if the woman can't just switch to a breast pump? That would still burn the calories, and it would be way more socially acceptable than what she was doing before (she could just tell people she has a newborn at home). Plus, if what I learned on C.S.I. is true, adult-baby fetish people will spend a pretty penny to get their hands (and mouths) on bottles of real human milk. Just a suggestion! (I feel sick.)
Susan's lying on her couch, reading, when Mike comes in. Here's there to apologize and, I (perhaps just wishfully) suspect, confess his true love-type feelings to Susan. But Susan is immediately cranky with him: "So did you run out of strangers to beat up on the street? You're going house to house now?" And yet...why would Mike come to her house if he were looking for strangers to beat up? That doesn't make much sense, Susan. Mike tells her how "awful" he feels, but Susan keeps sulking: "If you don't want to be my boyfriend, fine. But don't beat up the only guy who wants to volunteer for the job." Blah, blah, but he was yelling at you! Blah, blah but I deserved it! And now Ron's not returning any of Susan's phone calls, sigh. Mike very sincerely asks what it was that Susan did to Ron, and Susan says, oh, she just said something that hurt Ron's feelings just before surgery. Feelings that, and I repeat, Ron should have never subjected her to when she was in such a compromised state! Mike asks what it was that Susan said, and she very, very seriously tells him that she can't tell him. Mike, warmly, lovingly, forgivingly: "Yeah, you can. You can tell me anything, you know that." And Susan seems juuuuuust about to spill it when Julie walks in with the phone: it's Dr. Ron, finally calling Susan back. Susan tells Mike that she needs to take this call, and Mike sighs sadly and asks if maybe they can't talk about all this some other time. But Susan is all, "No, what's the point." Huh? While I kind of get her point of view here, it just doesn't feel a tack that the ever-optimistic Susan would ever take with Mike, especially now that she realizes she still loves him, at least according to her drug-freed subconscious. Mike sadly gets up and leaves, and Susan sits there, looking very sad for a moment (idiot), and then she clicks Ron off hold (which...thank god, because for a second I thought she was deliberately letting Ron hear that whole Mike convo, which would have been so yucky), and wows him with a hesitant little baby-bird "Hi." And there goes yet another missed opportunity with Mike. Also of note: Susan's wearing total tacos!
And it's MAVO TIME. We see another baby getting delivered, which means we get to see another hideous meaty sausage umbilical cord getting cut, eeeeek! MAVO: "At that precise moment, as Dr. Hansen Mills was cutting yet another umbilical cord," Why does MAVO always use everyone's full name? Have you noticed that? "Other ties," MAVO continues oh-so-warmly, "were being severed all over town. Like the one between a child and the mother who didn't want him to grow up so quickly." At work, Veronica tearfully hands Donovan a carton of chocolate milk (she must be thinking about that devilish elliptical trainer). "Or the one between the case of fine wine and the housewife who hadn't wanted to admit that she had a problem." We see Bree, sadly caressing an un-opened bottle of wine. to her is a box jam-packed with different kinds of wine, with "GOODWILL" is written on the side. Ha ha, that's awesome! Bring your good times, and your laughter too, down to the Goodwill drop-off van tonight, because there's going to be a celebration to last throughout the years! MAVO: "Or the one between a woman and a boyfriend, who couldn't forgive her betrayal." Dr. Ron's at the hospital, and he's sighing sadly into the phone (Susan at the other end, I assume). Wait, you mean to tell me that Susan burned this latest chance with Mike, just when Dr. Ron was just calling to end it with her? What a rip! MAVO: "The choice to separate from what we love is painful." Down at the strip club, Libby is sponging down a table and staring off into space, zombie-style, when a man comes up behind her and kisses her. "Hey, how's my girl today?" he says. And then, reaching down to rub her hugely pregnant stomach, he adds, "How are both my girls?" I thought Libby didn't know who the father was. Wait a second! Libby smiles at him and tells him that both of them are "doing good [sic]," and then she fingers her new diamond necklace. MAVO: "The only thing worse is when someone we've trusted makes the choice for us." Wait, does that mean Libby's going to betray Gabby and Carlos? Or maybe it means she's going to betray this guy here when she gives his baby away to the Solises. I wonder!