By Evany
Susan has fallen in love with Ian -- or, more specifically, with Ian's luxurious mansion and its six-headed shower, and now she wants to spend all their playdates over at his place. Unfortunately and uncomfortably, Ian's butler hates Susan out of both a fierce loyalty to Ian's coma-decommissioned wife and the fact that Susan is just innately irritating. He also thinks Susan's a tramp, perhaps because she Susadentally manages to flash the man both her taters and her tot. Susan asks Ian if she can keep a drawer of stuff at his house, but his drawers are too full of all his wife's things and also his baggage. The butler gleefully hints that Ian's reluctance to get rid of his wife's stuff indicates that he'll never love Susan. Susan confronts Ian and...whatever, they work it out, she gets her own drawer. Carlos convinces Memory-less Mike that they used to be best friends, and then gets Mike to let Carlos move in for the three months while his condo gets renovated. Bachelor City! Meanwhile the cops are still lurking around, waiting for Mike to make a wrong move so that they can nab him for dead, toothless Monique's murder. So Mike, who is an idiot, decides that now's the perfect time to bury his incriminating toolbox off in the woods somewhere, and of course gets totally busted. Orson's mother, Gloria, is now living at the Van de Hodge manse, but she's not enjoying herself at all; Bree won't let her drink booze or eat anything but bland, doctor-approved foods, and much strident dinner conversation ensues. Gloria bribes Andrew to get her some wine, and then she drunkenly spills the beans about Orson: he was cheating on Alma. With dead, toothless Monique! Bree finally, finally, finally decides that enough's enough and gives Orson the boot. Gabby is blue (her divorce just went through). Gabby is bored. Gabby decides to help her personal shopper, Vern, with his new business as a little miss beauty pageant consultant. Gabby teaches the girls how to fake confidence and self-love, and the girls all adore her. Later, she regales them with stories about the crazy things that other models (not Gabby, no) do to lose weight: bulimia, laxatives, unfiltered smoking. Of course, the kids all immediately start in with the puffing and the puking, which infuriates the kids' moms, and Gabby is forbidden to come help out with any more classes. But Gabby shows up anyway and sob-stories them with a heartwarming tale about how much she loved showing the kids how to pretend-love themselves, and how empty her own life is, and how she has a connection that can get all the (overweight) moms a supply of non-FDA-approved European diet pills. And the ladies -- did I mention that they were all overweight? -- totally forgive her! Just so you're getting this: these women are outraged that Gabby introduced their kids to unhealthy weight-loss vices, but Gabby gets back into their good graces by offering them...an unhealthy weight-loss vice of their very own, which they pounce on right in front of their kids. Total "black fly in the chardonnay" moment! Lynette tells the police about Art the Probably Pedophile, but they blow her off, especially when they hear that she only saw his wall of semi-nude boy pics because she essentially broke into his house. Later, when Lynette momentarily looses track of son Parker, she goes flying off the handle and straight over to Art's house, where she runs upstairs, downstairs, and also amok. Art and his sister both seem very confused by Lynette's insane behavior, especially the part about her screaming insinuations about Art being a big old pervert. Lynette scuttles down to the basement but...all the toys and photos are gone! Art has some excuse about how the toys were a collection he put together for some children's hospital, but Lynette doesn't buy it. Later, Tom tells her that she needs to cool it, or they're going to get sued for slander, and hey, maybe Lynette could do with some brain help? She agrees, but instead of seeking out a mental-health professional, she goes to Mrs. McCluskey for help. Some nice, neighborly vigilante help. And Mrs. McC, that old tuffy, she starts making some calls...to the So You Think You Can Dance voter line? 976-WRI-NKLE? It isn't entirely clear.
Previously: just the stuff we learned last week: Art is a maybe pedophile, the fuzz is searching high and low for Mike's toolbox, et cetera.
Susan and Ian are heading home after a nice dinner. Susan looks very now and wow in her little black dress paired with spiky silver heels. They're debating where to consummate this date: Susan's house, the wreck she neglected to clean, or Ian's mansion? As they muse, Susan accidentally steps out of her shoe, and Ian chivalrously crouches down to Cinderella it back onto her foot, Prince Charming-style. Ian, standing: "Well, we can't have you sleeping in squalor. My place it is." Animated bluebirds and hearts swirl around Susan's happy head.
Back at his place, Ian escorts Susan out of his car and she looks up at his obscenely gigantic mansion, which I swear I've seen used in one those "You can never be too rich or too thin" dorm wall posters. MAVO tells us that "Susan realized that her life had become a fairy tale. And since her prince had welcomed her into his castle, she felt the least she could do was thank him. Again. And again." Inside the door, Susan tackles Ian. They skip up the stairs, but halfway up, she tackles him again. And then they're rolling around on his huge canopied bed.
The morning. Susan is naked in Ian's bed, alone. You know...based on all the dust Susan kicked up last week about the very idea of Julie and Austin relating sexually, you'd think she'd be more concerned about leaving Julie alone in the house, what with all that bare-chest meat just a whistle away? But Susan has never been big on personal continuity, what with her mind sweeping clean every four seconds. Keep swimming, just keep swimming! Then again, maybe this is Julie's weekend at Karl's? Anyway: behind Susan, a man clears his throat. Susan smiles and stretches cattishly, and then turns over and gives the butler a full frontal, muttering something about how they'll have to "make it a quickie." The wry, unflappable butler introduces himself as Rupert, employee of "Mr. Hainsworth," and then he tacks on a bitchy "That would be the man you slept with, in case names weren't exchanged." (Rupert, incidentally, is played by Ian Abercrombie. As in Abercrombie and Felch? No, as in "Smithee" in Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties.) Susan draws the first cringe of the night by introducing herself as Rupert's "boss's girlfriend; surely he mentioned [her]?" But no. Ian hasn't said a word about Susan to his longtime employee.
Ian steps out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and the glistening remains of a shower. Rupert's presence comes as a surprise: wasn't he off to see his sister for the weekend? Ah, so that's why Ian allowed Susan to accompany him back to the castle: all potential witnesses were scheduled to be elsewhere. Rupert, with lots of sarcastic winks and puffs, indicates that "boss" (using Susan's word) Ian clearly has his weekends confused. Good thing, too: now Rupert's had the chance to meet the "girlfriend" (Susan's term, again, which he delivers dripping with acidic judgment). Ian distractedly explains that he and Susan met at the hospital, and then he flees to go get Susan a robe. While Ian's off searching the vast corridors of the bathroom, Rupert pointedly offers to get Susan breakfast: "Omelet? Strawberry tart? Brioche?" Susan giggles uncomfily. Oh, she's fine with whatever he chooses for her. Rupert: "You are aware there's a Mrs. Hainsworth?" Susan, confused: "Of course." Rupert: "Tart it is!" MAVO: "What's a fairy tale without a dragon to slay?" I'm not entirely sure why Susan is so confused by Rupert's take on the situation: surely it's occurred to her before now that her relationship with married Ian is morally murky? Not that I think it's wrong for a man to move on to a new woman after his wife's been in a coma for three long years, but I definitely think that neither Susan nor Ian put enough agonizing into the decision to move on; and no I don't think dousing the wife in a strawberry smoothie counts as agonizing.
Police station. Lynette is wearily trying to convince a policeman that Art is a pedophile; Tom sits to her, looking very alert and supportive. By the policeman's weary look, it's clear that they've been at this for a while. Exasperated Cop explains that Art isn't a registered sex offender, and that they "can't book a guy for possession of toys." Lynette screeches about the photo collage of half-naked boys. Cop, dismissively: "Didn't you say he was a swim coach?" So, apparently a job as a swim coach is an excuse for almost any suspicious behavior, at least in the eyes of Fairview's finest. (Note to pedophiles: sign up for that swim safety course today!) Cop: "If your neighbor had something to hide, why did he invite you in to see all this stuff?" Lynette and Tom exchange uncomfortable glances, and Lynette wrinkles up her nose in a way that's probably meant to be winning, and explains that, "technically," she entered Art's house without his permission. The cop gives them the hairy eyeball. Tom and Lynette do the Scavo bicker dance, which Lynette cuts short by yelling, "There is a monster living across the street, and Barney Fife here is making me sound like the bad guy!" Lynette stomps out, and Tom lingers behind to try to explain Lynette's behavior. Lynette, from out in the hallway: "You better not be apologizing for me!" Tom sits there, lizard-blinks for a few beats, and then says to the cop, "Gotta go!"
White-picket-fence blur over to Gabby, who is wearing a black velvet dress encrusted with eight million sparklies, looking very "Russian ice dancer." She's examining herself critically in the mirror while her personal shopper, Verne, announces that he's got "some fabulous news." Gabby: "I hope it's more fabulous than this dress. I look like something Ike Turner would hit." Spousal abuse is comedic gold. It turns out that Verne is leaving his job to start a new business. He hands her a card. Gabby, reading, "'Beauty by Verne'? You're opening a salon? God, could you get any gayer?" Verne: "It's a consulting firm for beauty pageant contestants." Gabby: "And the answer is 'yes.'" Verne, incidentally, is played by Alec Mapa, yet another Roseanne alum. And the "Roseanne As Desperate Gateway Drug" conspiracy theory thickens! Verne is actually coaching girls for the "Miss Snowflake pageant" -- maybe Gabby could come down and give the young ladies a few "pointers"? Gabby scoffs, citing her work "walking the catwalks of Milan" as evidence of her above-all-that-ness. Verne calls her a "bitch," and not just the PMS kind: she's been a big crab for months now, and no woman cycles that long. Gabby: "Stop tracking my cycle. I told you, it freaks me out." Overly menstrual-focused men are creepy: I once had a hippie tell me, with a serene smile, that he thought a woman's moon time was like a beautiful flower that blooms every month, and thus should be celebrated, not bemoaned. And then I punched him right in his hacky sack. Then there are those guys who chart your period just so they know what time of the month they get to dismiss your opinions and emotions, which just makes you want to smash their faces in. Especially if you're pre-menstrual. Of course, you don't want a guy to be squeamish, either. Men who faint at the sight of a tampon rolling out of your purse are just as unforgivable as moon-charting hippies. Dude, put the "men" in "menstruation" and go buy me a box of supers! Dating me sure is fun. Okay, so, Gabby: she admits that she has been a little off lately, probably due to the fact that her divorce from Carlos went through today. Vern clucks and sighs sympathetically and also gayly, and the chirpy "Love Kills, Love Stinks, Love Will Tear Us Apart" background music swells. Verne declares that Gabby needs a project. Like, for instance, helping out those Snowflake girls? Gabby finally caves, but only if Verne gives her the sparkly Tina Turner dress she hates. Done!
Back at the Butler Brow-beatdown, Susan comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but towels and asks Ian, "Is the coast clear?" Ian, who's fully dressed and pouring coffee, chuckles and informs her that Rupert is downstairs, making their breakfast. They chat about the Rupert situation: he's been working for Ian forever, and he's always been so devoted to Jane. Susan decides that she'll just have to "charm" Rupert -- you know, "warm him up a little." Susan leans over, way, way over, to pick up her dress off the floor. Just then, Rupert walks in through the doorway behind her, getting a full blast of her full moon, and crotch, and god (plus twelve men, including Ian) only knows what else. Without skipping a beat, Rupert makes a fluid little U-turn and walks right on out of there, his vision miraculously still intact. Susan never even notices that he's there. Ian (who saw the whole thing), with a private-joke archness: "Well, I'm sure you'll find a way [to warm Rupert]." Oblivia returns to the bathroom to change back into her morning-inappropriate, walk-of-shame cocktail dress. Speaking of which, Susan calls from the bathroom, maybe she could keep a drawer of her things at Ian's house, just like Ian has at her house? Ian, looking blindsided, stutters, "D-do you think we'll be here that often?" Susan -- misinterpreting his question as hopeful versus worried -- replies, "Your shower has six power nozzles. With or without you, I'll be back." You can tell it's supposed to be a light-hearted tease-joke, but it comes off as kind of forced and maybe even a little stalky? Ian tells Susan to go ahead and take a drawer. Susan heads over to open one of the drawers in Ian's bedroom, but Ian cautions her to check with Rupert first. Apparently, Rupert has everything organized just so. "You'll never win him over," Ian advises, "if you mess with his system."
At this moment, Rupert walks back in with the breakfast tray, and Susan (now dressed, finally) tells him that his "timing's perfect." Rupert, archly (his default mode): "Not always." Ian tells Rupert to find Susan a drawer for her things, and Rupert looks sullen and lemony. Susan, in a way she clearly thinks is endearing: "Yeah, Rupe. I hope we can be good friends, because you'll be seeing lots more of me." Cringe score: 2. Rupe: "Oh, madam. That hardly seems possible." Get it? It's because he's already seen her treasure tunnel. Oh, Rupe. Why so condescending? Did you talk to Garfield with that mouth?
Whose house? Bree's house. Gloria Vanderkill is now one of the gang, and she's already putting Danielle's patented snottiness to shame with her high-powered whining and complaining: Gloria doesn't like that there's a lock on the liquor cabinet. (Her meds don't mix well with alcohol. Bree: "A warning you've chosen to ignore, if the lipstick on the vodka is any indication.") Gloria also doesn't like the low-fat, low-sodium food Bree makes for her (also doctor-prescribed). , Gloria says grace: "Dear Lord, I thank you for this bland and indifferently prepared meal, and beseech you to ignite some spark of compassion in my cold-hearted daughter-in-law, that she might show some shred of mercy to me, her wretched captive, amen." They bicker back and forth, and it comes to a head when Gloria demands, "I want out of this perky little gulag and into a house I can call my own." But Orson can't afford to buy Gloria a house. I'm confused: don't dentists make bank? And isn't there still lots of Rex money lying around? Gloria, meaningfully: "You can't afford not to."
Kitchen. Bree expertly layers strawberries and whipped cream into parfait glasses as Orson tries to sell her on the idea of a house for Gloria: "I know a house won't be easy to swing, but how many more of these Edward Albee dinners do you want to sit through?" Apt call: I recently happened into a copy of Albee's Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?, and even just reading that drunken, strident, hammer-and-tong dialogue made me feel wrung out, hung over, and vaguely defeated, much as I do while recapping this entire storyline. Bree asks what it is that Gloria's holding over Orson, but he sidesteps the question, instead volunteering to ask Edie to come up with some cheap listings for them. Bree is concerned that a house of her own will give Gloria free rein to indulge her vices, and that she'll be "dead in a year." Orson: "You just stole my argument."
Mike's house. Edie is sitting at the table, going over Mike's bills. Mike is distractedly staring out the window at a car parked out front. Incidentally, James Denton -- who has lost a good deal of weight since last season (especially in his face, which looks both haggard and maybe two-thirds his normal width) -- is now beginning to look like an unplugged version of Dr. Gregory House. Edie drones on that he needs to give up either his phone or cable: he can't afford both. Mike doesn't really care. Edie: "Fine: cable it is. Nobody calls you anyway." (Mike is a loser.) He cane-hobbles outside. Turns out it's Officer Ghostbuster who's staking out Mike place. Mike asks him what's doing there, and Ghostbuster Ridley parries, "My toilet's clogged. I thought maybe you could fix it." Was that supposed to be biting tuff-cop banter? Lame. "Oh wait," he adds, "you can't, can you? You don't have any tools!" So lame. Mike yells at him to get out of there and leave him alone, and Ghostbuster makes another one of his cuts about Mike's temper: "You sure are hostile for someone working in the service industry." Which...doesn't make much sense: some of the most hostile people I know work in the service industry. Maybe it was sarcasm? Whatever: the line is so blah, it's not really worth dissecting. In short: a totally dumb and unnecessary scene that serves only to remind us that the police couldn't find Mike's tools when they searched his house. Here's a question: why aren't the cops investigating Mike's hit-and-run case? Maybe they consider the fact that someone tried to off him as more vague evidence of his guilt? In which case, their investigative powers are sorely lacking. Not that Fairview's police department has the best record in the "unsolved crimes" department, what with all the unexplained arson and dead bodies.
Back inside. Edie's still muttering about looming bills. Ignoring her (and they do a nice job here of fading out on Edie's monologue of financial suggestions, aurally underscoring Mike's inattentiveness), Mike opens up some closet and gazes down at The Toolbox. His face registers...happy? Sad? Excited? Mad? Chronically constipated?
COMMERCIALS! The Pursuit Of Happyness: most depressing episode of The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air ever.
Gabby arrives "fashionably late" at Verne's Snowflake class, which looks like it's being held in a sort of a converted hotel conference room. Gabby is decked out in an insanely cute pink dress with delicate little spaghetti straps, flouncy hem, and Kelly green bow at the waist. Verne himself has selected a strange silver satin collarless jacket for the occasion. "These mothers have refinanced their trailers for this," Verne whispers, "so for god's sake, when you make your entrance, sparkle."
Red-velvet curtains, catwalk, crazy pink collage propped up on an easel. (The collage is a Photoshop extravaganza of a little blonde girl wearing a sash and crown, a big headshot of an adult model, also blonde, and the words "Hair, makeup, fashion" and "Give your child the best!" and "Poise...Grace...Beauty by Vern." Oh, so no "e" at the end of "Vern," I guess.) Vern introduces Gabby which much fanfare, and somehow, somewhere, strains of "generic yet stirring Milan catwalk" tunes jam into life. Gabby struts out, totally owning the runway, but then she gets a peek at the pathetic straggle of moms and their normal-looking kids (i.e. there are a few chubby girls sprinkled in, and the overall look is not traditionally pageant-y at all...of course, they're all really cute, each her own individual Snowflake and so on). Gabby stops the show and calls Vern over for a whisperence: "What am I supposed to do with that petting zoo out there?" Nice. Vern reminds her that "not everyone wins the genetic lottery" like Gabby did. "These girls need help finding the promised land of beauty and style. Please, Gabby, be their Moses?" Gabby, sighing hugely: "Good comparison, because it's going to take a miracle to turn these mutts into show dogs." Gabby needs a good slapping. I'm ready for Ike Turner, now.
Mike Dullfino's. The doorbell rings: it's Carlos, looking resplendent in a salmon-hued top. He leans in and gives Mike a surprisingly huge hug, which confuses me, and also Mike. Mike stutter-robots, "I'm sorry, you are...?" And Carlos tosses up his hands, all hurt: "We were only best friends, dude." But I thought Mike's best friend was a dog named Bongo? Where are you, boy? Turns out Carlos needs a place to stay while his condo gets renovated, and thus the BF4EVER routine, which is a con to get Mike to let Carlos move in for a few months. Carlos does the hard sell: he'll totally help around the house, allowing Mike to fully recuperate: "Because you're tossing it to Edie now, right? That's a real relationship-killer, needing your lady to hoist you off the can?" Also, Carlos is willing to pay half of the rent. Mike and his cobweb-lined wallet light right on up. Sold!
Scavo house. Lynette is standing at the window, fretting at the sight of pedophile-tempting kids skateboarding around the neighborhood. Tom tries to draw her away from the window, putting a hand on her bad shoulder, and she winces convincingly -- it's a sad commentary on this show's continuity record that this nod to Lynette's injury from just two episodes back pleases me so. Just then, Lynette spots Art, crossing the street with her cake plate in hand. She runs out to greet him and totally overdoes it with the faux smiling and cheer. He thanks her for the cake, which he and his sister, "Rebecca" (he gestures over to his house, and a woman in a wheelchair waves), thoroughly enjoyed. Lynette stands there, plastic smile pasted in place; then she abruptly signs off and turns to leave. Art laughs a friendly laugh at her weird exit. You know, he really does seem so nice, I'm just not believing the pedophile thing...though I guess "he seems so nice" is the biggest red flag ever when it comes to perverts. Maybe he's a mass murderer; they also tend to seem nice. While Lynette beats a hasty retreat, Art asks if she likes how he and his sister decorated the place; what does she think about the color they painted the kitchen? But Lynette idiotically pretends that she didn't see anything but the living room. Art, friendly-teasing: "What? Come on! You're in a new house, curious about your new house. You look around. We all do it." But Lynette sticks to her story. On cue, Parker rolls up and asks if he can come play with Art's pinball machine. Which both sounds dirty, and may or may not actually be dirty, depending on whether or not Art actually is a pedophile. Which he isn't, right? Or is he? Art gives Lynette a weird look, which she totally deserves. Why can't she simply tell him what she saw and ask him what it means? He did save her life, after all, so she could at least give him the benefit of the doubt. But no. Instead, Lynette smiles and lies and avoids a straightforward confrontation at any cost. And the "Totally Busted" music takes us right into commercial.
And back to the Little Miss Snowflakes. Gabby, her skin an eerie George Hamil-tan, is showing the girls how it's done. Vern cranks up a beatbox on some frantic-funk model music, and Gabby hits the runway while providing a running self-narration about all the different components to her walk -- for instance, the turn involves a "look left, look right" and then "whip and walk." She's no Twirler Twin, but the girls are rapt. Gabby: "Yes, I'm unbelievable, close your mouths." Nice green satin heels; what are those, four inches tall? And yet...still you are too short for a supposed runway model.
Then the girls all give it a try. What follows is your standard "disaster montage": quick cuts of one girl after another, all of them walking like little girls and not at all like models. One girl loses her glasses on the "whip and walk." The girl takes a header off the end of the runway. The last little girl who comes a-walking is a scrawny little blonde thing with unusual face that's sort of part alien, part defeated car salesman -- basically, the kind of odd face that actually ends up being a model, versus only someone pedestrian-pretty like, say, Gabby. Gabby stops the music and asks the girl, "Where's your confidence? Where's your pride?" Girl: "Come on. What do I have to be proud of?" This obvious plea for an "aww" finally manages to melt Gabby's frozen tundra of a heart, and she launches into a big rah-rah about how, without the makeup and the clothes, models aren't really all " that special"; what sets them apart from the rest of us is their "attitude": "You have to believe in yourself, and, if not, pretend to believe in yourself!" Gabby gets up behind the blonde alien and whispers in her ear, telling her to imagine the flashbulbs and the jealous people "all thinking the same thing: Isobel Horowitz is smoking hot!" Throughout the speech, Isobel's face goes from child-actor despondent to child-actor thrilled (only on her it looks more like she's contemplating a killing spree). Gabby gives Vern the nod, and the music jams back into life. Isobel takes the runway, and Isobel is fierce. The girls all give her a standing O, and Gabby smiles and claps and experiences unselfish kindness for the first time ever. Isobel screams, "I was walking!" and gives Gabby a high-five. Gabby points at the kid: "Get on up there and make me hate your beauty."
Edie is taking Gloria, Bree, and Orson on a tour of a "diamond in the rough": a small house in a tough neighborhood. Edie's professional realtor outfit consists of tight white low-rider jeans and a tight white off the shoulder top. As they walk inside, the mournful song of a car alarm trills. Edie remarks that the seller is "highly motivated." Bree: "Oh look, a highly motivated cockroach." Bree is also not impressed by the view, which includes a bail bondsman and an adult bookstore. Edie: "What do you expect in your price range -- Tara?" ["Shout-out! ...Fine, not really." -- Wing Chun] But Gloria, much like the cockroach, is also highly motivated: "I'm not an impractical woman. I know that my son's resources, like his achievements, are rather limited." Orson nods the nod of someone who's received a lifetime of motherly snubs. Gloria asks for a tour of the rest of the house. Edie takes Gloria into the kitchen, where the lighting is, as she describes it, "harsh," due to the fact that the owners were involved in "some sort of home-based medical business." While they're gone, a scandalized Bree says to Orson, "You cannot let your mother move into this neighborhood. It's full of junkies and whores." Orson: "And we'll owe them all an apology." Bree frets that if Gloria moves in here, she'll avail herself of the "twenty-four-hour liquor store" that's just across the street. Orson thinks Bree should worry less about Gloria and more about their relationship: they've been arguing non-stop since Gloria arrived. Their bickering is cut short by the sound of Gloria taking a spill in the kitchen. Bree and Orson race in there, and Gloria's already up and claiming to be fine, but Bree takes this as proof of the kind of danger that Gloria will be in living there; she insists that Gloria stay with the family.
Project runway. Gabby has ordered everyone pizza, thus earning her even more plus points from the girls. They grill her on what it's like working as a runway model. Gabby, with that faraway look in her eye: "Honestly, it was just like any other job, except the pay was great, the clothes were couture, and the parties were just this side of Gomorrah." Ah, yet another age-inappropriate slip. Will she never learn? Talk turns to what other famous models are like -- you know, besides Gabby -- and then suddenly Gabby's talking about all the crazy things models do to lose weight: barfing after eating (or as Gabby says, "a finger for dessert"), cigarettes, laxatives. Isobel asks whether models have to be skinny, and clueless Gabby says, "Well yeah! When's the last time you saw a fat person on a magazine cover?" The girls instantly stop chewing their pizza. Gabby gets up to go talk to Vern, and all the girls return their slices to the box. Oh, Gabby.
Back to the butler showdown. Rupert is polishing the silver when Susan returns from a shopping trip wearing a terrible newsie cap that makes her look more than ever like a lollipop. A bad '70s lollipop. She has a present for Rupert: it's a black t-shirt with a Union Jack on the front. Of course, Susan -- oblivious in all other aspects of her life -- is also a terribly imperceptive gift-buyer. That British flag could have been on anything -- adult diapers, nipple clamps -- and she would have bought it for Rupert. Why? Because he's British! Not only that, but Rupert is clearly not a t-shirt kind of guy. Even if he were, he wouldn't be an XXL t-shirt kind of guy. Rupert: "It'll come in handy, should my nationality ever slip my mind." Susan laughs hugely and at great length, and then says, "You! I want to party with you." Is Susan drunk? She asks Rupert when they can go pick out that drawer for her things, but he's far to busy polishing silver. So she sits down and starts helping him, and I'm not sure, but the way she rubs the fork, it seems...suggestive? Because Rupert hastily grabs it away from her. He makes a pained face and agrees to take her to her drawer. Is this whole plotline seriously hinging on whether or not Susan gets a drawer of one's own?
Upstairs, Rupert walks and walks Susan further and further away from the master bedroom. Finally, they get to the room that houses the bureau Rupert's got all picked out for her. It smells of death: Rupert gleefully confesses that a "cat died" here. Susan does some more of her shruggy little "charming" act, but Rupert still doesn't melt, so she tells him that even if he doesn't like her, she deserves some respect as "Ian's girlfriend." Rupert clarifies that since Ian's married, that makes Susan Ian's "mistress." Susan, angry: "Okay, you're not allowed to call me that." Rupert: "Fine. What title would you prefer? 'Concubine'? 'Consort'? 'Gold-digging whore'?" And then Susan hauls off and slaps Rupert, and slaps him hard. The Foley guys have gone insane with the SFX here: the ghostly wind supposedly produced by the swing before the crack of the slap sounds like the whips in "Rawhide." And while Rupert may deserve it -- "gold-digging whore"? More like "six-headed-massaging-shower-digging whore," which...whatever -- but it's horrible and also yucky to see a strong woman hit an elderly man like that. It kind of makes me hate Susan! She does apologize, but instead of leaving, her heart full of shame, Susan starts right back in on that drawer. Drawer, drawer, drawer! Rupert screeches that this is Jane's house, and that Susan is a "guest" -- a "temporary one at best." Susan thinks that's up to Ian to decide. Rupert, looking like he's taking great pleasure in putting Susan in her place, points out that Ian's the one who still has all of Jane's clothes in his room; Ian's the one who never told Rupert about Susan; and Ian's the one who waited so long to bring Susan home. Susan looks semi-taken aback. Rupert smiles a Grinchy smile and takes his leave, saying that he'll "keep looking for that drawer." Ah yes, the drawer.
COMMERCIAL: wait, what was that? David Blaine is shackling himself to a Target logo and suspending himself up in outer space or whatever? I don't get it, is he making fun of himself? Like, is this ad a hilarious send-up of all his usual sad, complicated tricks? Oh. It looks like it's actually real. From the press release: "Last week Target presented Blaine with the following challenge: escape from shackles while dangling five stories above Times Square in time for the Target 2-Day Sale. If he succeeds he will escort 100 deserving children, as identified by The Salvation Army, on a magical shopping trip at Target." I'm concerned that David Blaine may actually now think he's Willy Wonka. "Deserving children"? "Magical shopping trip"? Except the kids only get $500 each. And how much did they spend on advertising this thing? Oh, David Blaine, why must this be so complicated? Can't you just write a check to the Salvation Army and call it a day? Please. Go back to the sidewalk card tricks. Just go.
And we're back! It's daytime, and Lynette has all four Ps gathered around her, watching television. Is this her pedophile-foiling plan? Just keeping the kids in doors at all times? Tom leaves to go help Mike install a "shower bar."
Mike's house of men. Carlos and Mike are riveted by the game, which is airing on Mike's gigantic flat-screen television. Carlos calls Tom "T Rex," and they slap hands and inquire into the status of each other's balls, specifically how they're hanging. Apparently, Tom's are hanging "low and lazy." Now, is he using balls as a metaphor for his entire state of mind here, which is "lazy"? Or is he literally calling his balls "lazy," as in a "lazy eye," as in sort of drifting? Balls are so freaky. Other body parts that freak me out: the roof of the mouth, and the belly button. Perhaps I should mention that it's actually 3:30 AM right now, and I'm typing at you in a sleep-deprived roar, desperately trying to get his recap done before I leave town. But...the belly button? It's like this huge puncture scar right in the middle of our smooth bellies! This terrible interruption! But I guess balls are worse. They're like sea anemones, expanding and contracting and sort of...roaming. Or so I've heard. From your mother!
Gabby comes home from another shopping trip to find Vern waiting on her doorstep. She's excited to talk to him about the class: she just bought each girl her own makeup kit, coordinated to her skin tone: "I also got Melina some wax. I know she's only eleven, but those Greek genes are going to kick in any day now." But Vern isn't there to talk about pre-teen waxing (if only!). No, he's there to report that all the girls' mothers now hate Gabby because their girls have developed terrible vices since the pizza party. One's smoking, one's bulimic, and one asked her mom if she could throw a "Gomorrah party." Gabby admits that there may be a need for "damage control," but Vern says that it's too late: Gabby is banned from class. Gabby is crushed. Gabby is also wearing an amazing sort of Grecian top, backless with a halter and gold trim. Vern takes his leave: "See you at spin class!"
TV Party. Lynette's fallen asleep babysitting her kids -- much like that alkie, Bree. Parker (who, contrary to what I've reported elsewhere in these hallowed pages, is apparently younger than the twins, at least according to the boards) decides to go outside. The twins try to stop him, but he's only going "out front."
Bachelor City. Carlos and Tom are yelling football things at the television. Mike asks them what he was like before the accident, clearly hoping for insight into whether he's capable of being Monique's killer. Tom and Carlos, still focused on the game, wave off his concerns: oh, he's fine. Mike turns off the television, and Tom and Carlos groan. ["He can't just pause it? He's got a giant TV and no DVR? Ghetto!" -- Wing Chun] Mike, to Carlos: "I really need to know. You can be honest. You're my best friend." Tom shoots Carlos a WTF. Carlos: "Honestly? You were sort of mysterious. Kept to yourself. Nobody really knew you all that well." Tom, with a straight face: "And this is coming from your best friend." I still find it hard to believe that no one's mentioned anything to Mike about his relationship with Susan. Even knowing as we now do that Mike wasn't really that close with any of the Wisteria men, you'd at least think one of them would wolf about how much spicier Edie is than that scrawn, Susan. Or something?
Back to Lynette for her colossal freak-out scene, ugh. Okay! So. Lynette wakes up, can't find Parker, and starts to panic. It goes without saying that she runs right over to Art's house and starts banging on the door. When he opens up, she demands that he hand over her son. Art insists that Parker isn't there, but she shoves past him into the house, and starts stalking through all the rooms. A nice "bona fide mom" touch: Lynette has a pink plastic baby's barrette in her hair; clearly she was playing hair salon or whatever with Penny earlier. Though it also makes her look extra-crazy. Lynette screams, "Parker, Parker!" Art, all sense of friendliness now gone, tells her that she can't just bust in like this, but she runs down to the basement, now completely stripped bare. Lynette asks where all the toys are. Art: "That was a collection I was taking up for the children's hospital. I delivered everything yesterday." Now, does he look guilty here? Or does his expression simply convey irritation? I can't quite tell. Lynette, clearly without a sense of self-preservation (she is, after all, alone with him in his basement): "Did you donate the photos, too?" Art stands there, saying nothing. Because he's guilty? Or just because he's confused? Lynette runs back upstairs, yelling for Parker, and Art follows her: "What exactly is it that you're accusing me of?" Lynette screams something at him about not "playing dumb," and that she's "calling the police." Art's sister, Rebecca, asks if anything's wrong, ha, and Lynette, her signature veins of rage sticking out all over her neck and face, screams again and again that she can't find her son. She starts heading upstairs. Rebecca, looking out the window: "Isn't that your son?" Lynette goes running outside, and there's Parker, standing with Tom; it turns out he just went over to Mike's to find his dad. Lynette runs over and hugs and kisses on Parker, and over his Richie Cunningham head, she stares down Rebecca and Art, who are out on their front porch, staring right back. The "Lynette Just Can't Seem To Solve Problems In A Straightforward Manner" music swells, kicking us straight into commercial.
When we come back, Tom is just getting off the phone with the people at the children's hospital, who confirm Art's story. Lynette insists that that "proves nothing." Tom is on her side, agreeing that there's something "fishy" about Art, but that doesn't mean she gets to go busting into his house: "And if you keep accusing this guy without proof, he can sue us." Too true. And yet, if Art is a pedophile, and Lynette saved even one child with her fearmongering, then maybe the lawsuit would be worth it? Sigh, this is a complicated one. Can we go back to the Mystery of Susan's Drawer now? Tom suggests that maybe the "Bang" episode affected Lynette more than she realizes, and maybe she needs to get professional help. Lynette: "You're right, I need to talk to someone."
Cut to Lynette, sitting on a bench with Mrs. McC. Lynette tells Mrs. McC everything she saw at Art's, and how unhelpful the police have been, and that she's promised Tom she'd lay off. Mrs. McC, who has made no such promise, whips out her phone and starts making some calls. Lynette sighs with relief. Ugh, but what if Art is innocent, and Mrs. McC ruins his life by telling the whole neighborhood he's a pedophile (for that's whom I assume she's calling, but I don't know, maybe she's just calling a psychic hotline)? There's basically no good that can come out of this: either there's a horrifying pedophile on Wisteria Lane, or I end up hating Lynette and Mrs. McCluskey for being reputation-ruining harpies.
Drawer, drawer, drawer. Fueled by ideas borne of Rupert's mean-talking, Susan sits Ian down for a serious chat: she's had a great time with him these past months, but now she wonders if he's capable of talking things to the level, of really going deeper. Ah yes, the three-month review. Ian's problem (aside from the "V-neck sweater sans shirt underneath" thing, a sweaty set-up that always makes me think of Michael Douglas in Basic Instinct, which of course is not good news) is that the more he lets Susan in, the more it feels like he's "pushing Jane out." Susan assures Ian that there's room in his heart for both of them. For some reason, he takes her word on this. To celebrate this "breakthrough," he gives Susan half of one of Jane's drawers. I'm not sure how I feel about this scene. On one hand, I'm very glad that the great drawer debate is now at a close -- so glad that I don't much care how we got here. On the other hand, I'm not convinced that this conversation solved anything. Certainly, the music in the background was telling us that the exchange was deep and meaningful. But Susan is still technically Ian's mistress, which I don't think is something she would want to be for any kind of long term. I guess it is too early to start talking about Ian divorcing his wife. Though they really should get on it, because I have a feeling Jane's going to be making a miraculous recovery any day now, Fairview being Fairview. But whatever. I actually don't really care. Susan is a nominal mistress with ongoing access to half a drawer and a very fancy shower. Everybody wins!
Hodge House, family dinner. The perfect time for me to take a momentary pause to get some leftover stuffing and pumpkin pie stuffed in me. Ah, a bowl full of cold stuffing and pie, consumed just as dawn makes its cool, quiet entrance. Turns out there's really nothing like it. Back in Fairview, Bree is concerned that Gloria is skipping yet another meal. Orson urges her to enjoy the Gloria-less silence, but Bree feels that Gloria "deserves some compassion: the woman watched her dream die yesterday." Danielle: "We all did." Bree -- whose Gloria concern is truly beginning to grate -- decides that she'll bring Gloria her dinner upstairs. Since Gloria's dinner appears to consist of nothing but baby carrots and a white blob of something -- fish, maybe? grits? -- I'm sure she's going to be just thrilled. But before Bree can leave the table, Andrew springs into action: he'll take the plate up to Gloria. Bree, suspicious, follows him up to find that Gloria is totally drunk: she paid Andrew to smuggle her a bottle of wine. Andrew tries to play it like he did it out of sympathy, but drunk Gloria, who's getting more Albee by the second, slurs that Andrew charged her $20 for the wine, and another $5 for the corkscrew. Andrew to Gloria: "You can kiss that codeine goodbye." Welcome back, edgy Andrew! We were wondering how long it would take for you to reappear.
Andrew leaves, and Orson comes in and starts blowharding that Gloria needs to live by the house "rules" if she wants to stay there. Versus what? Going back to the home, I guess, since she's not getting a house? Gloria: "I don't obey rules, I make them." Orson: "Not anymore." Gloria: "Just watch yourself, sonny-boy." Bree tries to step in, but that only drives Gloria crazier. She lights a cigarette and lets fly with this little tidbit: Orson cheated on his first wife with the stewardess, Monique! The same woman who slept with his friend, Harv(Gar)y, and possibly Mike. Orson desperately tries to get the situation back under control, but he only comes off looking like a panicked, petulant little boy. "See?" he pleads with Bree. "I told you she would do this!" Gloria -- who is a total shrew that I'm beginning to think can't get off this show fast enough -- gloats that Orson didn't even know that "his whore was cheating on him!" With that, Orson snaps: he grabs his mother by the shoulders and gets his contorted face all up in her chi, yelling, "YOU SHUT YOUR EVIL MOUTH." Gloria: "Or what? What are you going to do to me that hasn't already been done?" Well, he could kill her. That's clearly something that hasn't been done to her yet. Though many have been tempted, I'm sure. Bree, looking completely out of it with shock, wanders out of the room, down the stairs, and right on out the front door, totally leaving Danielle and Andrew alone with the crazy mother-son duo.
Snowflake showdown. Gabby ignores Vern's warning and shows up to class to apologize to the moms. Of the five moms, three are overweight. (This is actually pertinent.) All are angry. One mom accuses Gabby of thinking she's "better" than they are, what with her "size zero." To the contrary, Gabby envies them. The mommies don't believe her. Gabby: "It's true. You have husbands and families and a reason to wake up in the morning. What do I have?" Wow, first Gabby realizes she can no longer fill her emotional void with shopping, now this? Gabby goes on to say that this class has been the best thing that's ever happened to her in a super-long time, et cetera. The mommies are still all cross-armed and defensive. Gabby promises "no more talk about dodgy weight-loss methods." The women still don't budge. She continues, invitingly: "Like the highly effective non-FDA-approved diet pill I can get from my friends in Zurich. In bulk." And with that, the moms forgive her. Because all that concern over their daughters getting wrapped up in unhealthy weight-loss habits was totally made up: they were merely...holding out for a truly effective weight-loss tool that they could use themselves? These mothers -- the biggest influences in these kids' lives -- just jump on that magical weight-loss pill, with their impressionable kids looking on! The very same kids Gabby was supposedly bad-influencing! I hate to get all PC on your ass and grill and jock (especially since it's now 7 AM and I've been typing all night), and yet? This scene totally blows.
Orson comes home from scouring the streets for the missing Bree, only to find that she's home, brooding away on the stairs. Orson tries to explain the whole Monique miasma, but Bree is "done." Hi, he pretended not to recognize the dead body in the morgue, and of the two women in Orson's life before Bree, "one vanished and the other's dead." So now Bree wants him out of the house. Bree sadly goes upstairs, and Orson yells up to her that he loves her. Bree: "I know. And it scares the hell out of me."
And it's finally, finally MAVO wrap-up time. "Dangerous men walk among us," she says. Huh. Then why is this episode titled "Beautiful Girls"? "And we can't always be sure who they are or what secrets they hide." Orson leaves the house as Bree looks on from an upstairs window.
MAVO: "But once our worst suspicions are confirmed, we can take action." Art jogs past Mrs. McC's house, and she dials another number from her, I guess, address book.
MAVO: "Once their agendas are revealed, we can take steps to protect ourselves and those we love." Rupert pats down the sheets on Ian's bed, and Susan pointedly retrieves some article of her clothing from the drawer. So, basically, Susan hasn't gone home at all in this episode; Julie's probably had sex with Austin fifty times by now. But at least Susan has her half a drawer.
And more MAVO: "Yes, dangerous men can cause great harm. But sometimes the greatest danger they pose is to themselves." Mike drives out to some deserted somewhere and digs a hole. Just as he's dropping his toolbox into the hole, Ghostbuster pops out, all, "I'll take those."
Up : Mike, the biggest idiot that ever was, gets his wooden self arrested! And I am off for a nautical night in the craziest hotel ever. See you week!