Beth and Felicia have a truly nasty conversation about sex, but Beth finally realizes that Paul Young is awesome and her mother is nutso ("She cut off her own fingers to frame me for murder! Who does that?" Crazy moms do that) so she decides to throw in her lot with Paul instead of her crazy mother, which causes her crazy mother to go crazy. Sad, but on the other hand you're having tons of sex with the fabulous Paul Young, so Happy Thanksgiving!
Lynette and Susan have this war about Paige being on a schedule, and how Susan wants to breastfeed the baby and stuff it inside her clothes and pretend that it is her baby and make it as horrible as she is, while Lynette's point is: It's her fucking baby.
Susan will not cede this point, and calls Lynette a lazy mother who enjoys the sound of her baby crying. Instead of slapping the shit out of her, Lynette realizes that Susan is broken from having driven her own husband out of town with her terrible choices and personality, and from being the mother of MJ, which would kill anybody, so Lynette decides it's more Pilgrimmy to just go ahead and let Susan ruin Paige. Happy Thanksgiving!
Gabby gets Grace's parents deported after serving them racist dinner. Happy Thanksgiving!
At dinner with McCluskey and her random husband, Bree drives Keith's unstable parents to divorce. Happy Thanksgiving! This discourages him from asking her old ass to marry him, despite their agreement that their relationship is going nowhere. Happy Thanksgiving! The upshot is that his radically hotter dad now has the sneak for Bree, so this just got awesome. Happy Thanksgiving!
Tom and Renee start out real creepy, but end up having a sort of lovefest about how great Lynette is. Well, mostly about how great Tom is (which...), but also how his greatness reflects on Lynette. Through his tiny, beady, old-man eyes, Tom sees trouble forming, but whatever. They already slept together, and Renee will get bored soon or else, because Lynette is the only person who might actually kill you. Happy Thanksgiving! Plus he's three beers away, anyhow. Happy Thanksgiving!
Watch the episode below, discuss it in our forums, then see last season's most outlandish moments.
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Felicia Tillman summons her daughter Beth so they can have a truly stomach-wrenching frank talk about sex. Specifically the sex that Beth is having with Paul Young, that may cause her to fall in love with him and earn her Momma's wrath, but might also be a weapon to find out more about that time Paul killed Martha Huber. At this point I'm unsure what facts they're missing -- both Felicia and Beth seem pretty clear on how it went down -- but whatever, it's wicked creepy. Multiple euphemisms.
Felicia talks herself into whoring out her daughter to the murderer some more, but notices that Beth is starting to realize that Paul Young is just kind of great and there's no real reason for them to be doing any of this. Mary Alice is like, "And that's why Felicia would eventually have to kill Beth, too, and then find another relative to avenge that death, and so on until eventually everyone in Fairview would either be in prison or in the ground, and she will still be missing fingers, because she is one crazy bitch."
Or really, she's babbling about Thanksgiving and how women spend them slaving over a hot stove with their shoes off because they don't need shoes, only to provide for their families. Unless they are Gabby, in which case they just bring home the entire international aisle from the grocery store and tell her husband that because he is the Mexican of their family, he gets to cook Mexican Thanksgiving for those super-Mexican parents Grace has the misfortune of having. For now.
Mexican Thanksgiving is just like Real Thanksgiving. Except instead of beans we eat frijoles and instead of turkey it's tamales and instead of rolls it's bollitos (which are rolls) and instead of stuffing it's chorizo stuffing and instead of cornbread it's jalapeño cornbread. Mexican-Americans: They're just like us, but with a little racist touch.
Well, except that they don't celebrate Thanksgiving, because as it turns out, the day Europeans landed in the Americas was not really that great a day for their ancestors. Or pretty much anybody besides white Europeans such as... Gabrielle. Or, well, for Hector and Carmen, because they're just ticking off the time until they can get deported and go back to Mexico and leave their anchor-baby in Fairview. Luckily, Hector and Carmen don't have long to wait, because Gabrielle can fuck your entire life for you faster than a black cat breaking a mirror when she feels like it.
Carlos points out that Gaby is making fun of their culture, and she's all, "No! I'm celebrating it! There's two bags of your culture right there!" and runs off to pinch Juanita's fat between her fake nails and wait for Grace in the window seat and write her name in the steam on the window over and over and over.
Renee comes to ask Lynette what she's doing for Thanksgiving, and Lynette does her usual Cathy routine about cooking and cleaning and it's so hard when you keep shooting out kids every week and ack, and finally Renee invites her over for Thanksgiving, because she is lonely. Lynette invites Susan and MJ to dinner at Renee's house also, which is very polite of her, and Renee says that Susan's not getting paid overtime. "As a guest!" Lynette thunders, being even more polite, and finally Renee has to explain the problem with Susan.
"See, I like to hang out with people? Human adults? And Susan is more like a cartoon character of a poor person with saggy boobs showing and a general inability to do anything but suck. Ever." J/K, she's all, "She's always so perky and poor!" Which is hilarious, but not really accurate. Partly because she's not actually poor and mostly she's not actually perky, she is a total fucking downer and a never-ending hurricane of mental dysfunction, constant whining and babbling about her stupid problems, interfering with everybody way past any sensible boundaries, and generally a causer of trouble at every turn.
"She's my friend, and it is Thanksgiving," says Lynette, yet another polite thing to say, and Renee admits she's thankful she's not Susan, and that she and her awful kid can come to dinner after all. Then Lynette tells Renee who else she can and can't invite, what time dinner will be, what they will be doing, and words and phrases Renee is and is not allowed to say at her own house during the dinner she's feeding Lynette and her fucking fifty children.
Lynette, who has just been wandering the yard while Susan is inside raising her baby, goes inside to tell Susan the great news and how she browbeat Renee into serving her and her awful son some resentful peas and carrots. "You know how she loves children," Lynette lies, and Susan murmurs, "Yeah: Medium rare." And what's Susan doing, while this conversation is going on? Oh, taking the baby for a walk in the stroller. Around the couch.
Now, before you assume that she's just confused about the difference between indoors and outdoors again, let me tell you that she has a plan: Put Paige to sleep. And instead of taking her on an actual walk, Susan has decided to put her to sleep through an imaginary walk. Maybe because she didn't want to talk to Lynette about the baby, because that would imply that she is a nanny, and she could once again have a self-esteem flip-out about how far the webcam whores have fallen.
Lynette's like, "Actually, it's time to sleep-train her." Susan has no idea what she's talking about, because still Julie sleeps wherever she finds herself -- public transport, dinner with clients, the mall -- and she still breastfeeds MJ. So Lynette explains the basics of people and how they fall asleep and how that's something you need to teach a child to do on her own, so that she will be able to sleep on her own for the rest of her life.
But of course Susan's way too selfish for that. "How can I possibly endure the crying of your child for the under-a-week that your plan will take? My heart, my heart! I'm such a good person that I can't endure the crying of one single child in this world. It's certainly got nothing to do with my ADD and inability to tune it out for a few minutes." Lynette tries to explain about self-sufficiency, gets about three words in and remembers who she's talking to, and lets it go. But Susan, she will not be letting it go: What about, she asks, the "lonely little person who was crying, and now thinks she was abandoned"? (...Wait, who were we talking about? Susan, we were talking about the baby. Not your worthless ass. Of course, by the end of the episode you'll have worn Lynette down so well with your lack of backbone and officiously terrible parenting that we will actually be talking about you. So good job, there.)
Lynette describes the ability to put oneself to sleep a "gift," although actually it's more like "a necessary life skill," but Susan's way too up her own ass to understand doing things for your children that require self-control. Why even have kids if you have to be the grownup, even just once in a while? The only gift Paige is getting, by Susan's lights, is "the gift of a tear-stained pillow," as she moans to herself while Lynette is upstairs doing her fucking job for her. "What a lucky little girl." (We are still not talking about you, freak!)
Paul calls fucking Beth "making love," and though I'm not sure how I feel about that, it's nice to see him happy and naked. Beth decides to start talking about the time he bludgeoned Martha Huber to death with a blender, because that's the kind of afterglow they like to do. Paul doesn't say it's a fake story, but he doesn't exactly disavow it either. For some reason Beth brings up Felicia and her feelings on the subject, and Paul makes an excellent point about Martha's sister Felicia: "Her opinion doesn't matter. Everybody knows Felicia Tillman is crazy. Martha said to my wife that she couldn't trust a thing that her sister said due to her severe mental problems. The woman cut off her own fingers to frame me for murder. Who does that?" You can see Beth's eyes whirling around in her head as she finally considers how her mom might be even crazier than her husband.
Keith's beautiful, naturally aging mother shows up at Bree's house of plastic horrors with flowers, to apologize for outing Bree's shriveled ovaries and lifeless womb. Bree serves her some tea and agrees that mom's an ugly drunk, and asks why she's such a bitch all the time. Turns out Keith's beautiful, naturally aging mother is having long-term relationship trouble with John Schneider -- proof that she's nuts, IMO -- and that they miss Keith. Bree invites them to Thanksgiving and tells Keith's beautiful, naturally aging mother to give her crazy-hot husband some Real Talk every now and then. And then she threatens to shoot Keith's mother with her guns, because all of these people are awful people.
Lynette's waiting for Paige to cry it out -- on the porch, with some iced tea -- when Susan shows up whining about some bullshit about Mike and how she's unable to properly use a telephone or something. Distracted by the baby monitor and crying, Susan gets all nervous, so Lynette -- awesomely -- shuts it off. Susan immediately and transparently goes inside for some lemons for the iced tea and starts bothering the baby.
Cunning as the lemon ruse was, Lynette figures out that Susan is fucking with her baby almost immediately, and enters the house with executive realness: "Susan. We stopped keeping lemons under the baby a while ago." Susan mealymouths some bullshit Bad Mommy stuff about how her entire identity is sucking the life out of children by substituting their needs for common sense and proving what a saint she is, and when Lynette reminds her that Paige is not even her fucking baby and this is a job for which she is paid in cash money, Susan responds by calling Lynette a mean cold unfeeling parent, in a way she thinks is adorable but actually should get her slapped and fired.
Tom brings a chocolate cream pie over to Renee's so the Scavo Horde won't eat it before Thursday, and of course Renee answers the door in a towel -- "Thought you were the cable guy, I'm trying to get free premium" -- and then has to go inside and stammer and accidentally say "chocolate cream thigh" and shrug his shoulders and generally act about as sexually appealing as Cojo. Maybe it's a defensive mechanism against Renee's hotness, I don't know, but his virtue's never been so safe.
So we remember that they have fucked in the past and that Lynette will flip if she finds out and then Renee treads somewhat close to the line demanding his (married, to her BFF) impressions of her admittedly rockin' bod, so he compliments her and then jams his hands in his pockets and, shoulders at ear level, scoots over to his house so he can masturbate to orgasm, wait an hour because he is old and sad, and then do it again.
Not actually the worst sex thing that happens in this episode. is Bree, who has been fucking Keith while thinking about what to serve at Thanksgiving, actually giving a thrilled little moan when she decided to put pancetta in the chestnut stuffing. Which is unlikely, but Bree is generally unlikely. Even worse, this is how she starts the conversation, immediately post-coital: "Oh, that reminds me. I invited your parents to Thanksgiving dinner." Gross? TMI? How about this little peek into the boudoir: "What about the last ten minutes reminded you of my parents?"
So how the hell was it that Bree was exhausted to the point of desperation by sleeping with Keith, when apparently that involves ten-minute bouts with a 34-year-old man? Is he like Benjamin Button? Or one of those kids that ages faster than the other kids, because they are imperfect clones? Ten whole minutes with Brian Austin Green, well I do declare that is simply giving me the vapors. I better tell him what I'm serving his parents for Thanksgiving, so that he'll know I'm being satisfied sexually by those... Ten minutes in heaven. Anyway, Keith was apparently going to pop the question over Thanksgiving dinner but now he has to wait, which is serious because you never know how long she's got. Because she's so old, you see.
Gaby talks a big game about how hard it was getting Mexican Thanksgiving ready for the Mexicans, and Carlos -- who is a worthless piece in this episode, just total asshole furniture -- whines that she "did her hair for two hours" and told him "where the can opener was." And who set the table? Juanita, although under Gaby's supervision.
Eventually the Mexicans are like, "You guys are being really inappropriate hashing this out in front of us, like, you're verging on looking like you might have some abuse issues going on? So let's change the subject." What does Gaby want to talk about? Grace Grace Grace. What is she wearing, what is she thinking, what does she smell like, what does she taste like, what luggage will she fit in. Grace acts unctuous as usual and goes upstairs to annoy Juanita, while downstairs the Solises continue with the Bickersons act.
Why do people do this? Why on earth would you think that whining about your spouse to me, in front of your spouse, is going to make you look better and not worse? I mean, the victim thing maybe seems attractive to you -- although to the rest of us you still just appear fucked up and whiny -- but you're not even a victim in this scenario: You're both just assholes, acting like assholes, trying to get us to pick which asshole. It's so mystifying.
Gaby produces a jug full of about two margaritas and offers them around, and they act like trash for awhile, and Hector tries to join in with some misogyny chuckles of his own, and then Carlos gets Gaby to admit she forgot to pick up the Thanksgiving pies. (Glad you asked: Cherry-Nopalitos which is cherry pie with cactuses in it, Pumpkin-Tripas which is pumpkin pie with brains in it, and Organ Meat Empanadas.) She tells him they're good having pudding and Halloween candy, and he threatens to hit her, so she says she's had a glass of wine, but he threatens to hit her again, and it's so uncomfortable that finally Hector threatens to take her to the pie store to get the goddamned pies. Everybody agrees that all women are unreasonable bitches and that marriage is akin to sitting on a knife, and they leave.
Susan screams Happy Thanksgiving! at Renee, all kinds of retardy for the party, and Renee's like, "You live in an apartment, take it down a notch." MJ says something truly rude and unlikely, so Renee does something even more cartoonish and points out the chalk line past which children are not allowed to proceed. The kids' table is in the driveway, although it was in the street before the cops made her move it. If the show would just commit to being this over the top all the time, it would be really good. But the smarmy need to manipulate emotions, and imply really mean things about women -- the two things that qualify it as "camp," which is why camp sucks -- throw off the whole mix.
Susan barely acknowledges Lynette and Tom, looking around immediately for Paige and hoping she can fuck up Lynette's parenting some more. Turns out she can. The twins are watching her and football at the same time, and have been authorized to pick her up if she cries for more than 20 minutes. Susan's laziness and selfishness cause her eyes to mist over as she stares down the street at the baby she just knows she could raise better than its own mother.
McCluskey and her random husband show up at Bree's, because apparently last year they ate at the "Pancake Castle" and that she thought this was so sad -- which it is, and pointlessly so -- that she invited them to her house this year. And promptly forgot, due to having her brains fucked out, ten minutes at a time, every few days, by a middle-aged housepainter. Roy doesn't care one way or the other, and assumed that she would forget, but you know that's not how McCluskey rolls. Just then, Keith and his messed-up parents arrive, and Roy goes, "Oh look, invited guests. We'll get out of the way." See Susan, there's a way to be cutely ungrateful: Just be a dotty old person with no accountability and you can say whatever you want. Richard and Mary, meanwhile, are also bickering horribly at each other.
Gaby can't handle the sudden gridlock you sometimes get in a suburban town like Fairview, and acts insane and irritating to the point that Hector is once again uncomfortable: "They better be dead!" she says of those involved in the accident up ahead. "The bakery closes in ten minutes!" Hector wants to forget the pies, but Gaby explains, like he wasn't paying attention, that all Latin men beat their wives and that Carlos will beat her if she comes home without these pies. Right after he finishes moisturizing each hand for about an hour like he did last week.
"I am sweating in a pickup and my buzz is wearing off! You do not want to tangle with me!" Gaby browbeats Hector -- plainly afraid of breaking the law for reasons that his stereotypical broken English should have already made apparent -- into taking the shoulder to get around the mess, and some cops immediately pull them over. There's some fairly standard comedy -- from "We could really use a police escort to the bakery, it closes in ten minutes" to the classic "Ma'am? Ouch, talk about police brutality!" -- before heading into the accusation of extranational origin and the return accusation of profiling -- with a bunch of racist rhetoric thrown in to make us laugh guilt-free, since it's a Latin woman saying it -- the logic loop-around whereby the cop is himself Latin but not immediately apparently so, with the white privilege clencher that all of this is happening under Gaby's watch with a minority cop, so therefore even a Mexican-American judges Mexicans so how can it be racist, just like how black people owned slaves too so how come they get to say the N word and we don't, & c. & c.
Okay, I love Gabrielle the most of all these bitches and I think she has the best storyline generally. But this thing with Grace's parents makes me really uncomfortable, and it's because of this right here: You get diversity awards and recognition for having minority faces in your cast, sure. And I guess Vanessa Williams qualifies as black, but nobody would argue she's as black as the poor folks in that horrible Alfre Woodard storyline, or as black as that ex-con that nearly raped the pretty white girl last week. Renee is as black as Gabrielle is Latina, which is to the same degree as Tom Scavo and his red-headed children are Italian. All of which is fine, fake diversity is better than none, but bringing in these broken-English tortilla-eating illegal immigrants just makes the whole thing seem like a giant lie, where we can stereotype and laugh at them but it's okay because technically the Solises are a Mexican-American family that proves we're over it and post-race and whatever.
Anyway, when Gaby returns, pieless, stripping the gears of Hector's truck, she is unrepentent. "Please don't yell at me. That was my first time driving stick shift, and my nerves are shattered." She explains heartlessly that Hector got arrested because he -- "and I begged him not to!" -- drove onto the shoulder, which is where the police caught them. Carmen, who is apparently not too quick on the uptake, is like, "Wait, he got arrested by the police? Oh shit, that's totally different from what I thought you meant when you said he got arrested. Grace, go get your shit, we are leaving town." They disappear to the truck and Carlos needs Gaby to explain their deal: "I think they're illegals," she whispers, and runs over to beg Carmen not to go to Texas. Or, if she does, to at least leave Grace behind.
"Mrs. Perry slapped the caterer, so dinner's gonna be a little late," Susan explains to the hungry kids' table, out in the driveway. You know, because she cares about kids so much she can't stand to be away from them for more than a second or two, but leaving them in the driveway to starve while the adults are inside drinking -- that's just good parenting. They say something about Paige on the monitor and how she's been crying for awhile, so Susan steals their football and throws it at the Scavo's house so she can go be an asshole some more.
I think McCluskey is getting sort of China Pearl Hand Cream, if you know what I mean. At one point -- during the awkwardness of Bree trying to be a hostess and Richard trying to be a person and Keith trying to be invisible and Mary once again getting drunker and drunker and ruder and ruder -- she asks if the secret of the cranberry sauce was cinnamon: "If it isn't, can we talk about cinnamon?" and Roy's all, "I knew a stripper in Baltimore named Cinnamon! Nice broad." I mean, the point is that the conversation is getting more and more awkward, and they want to change the subject, but that usually requires you to change the subject to something that's actually a conversation you can have.
Anyway, Mary's drunken rage -- which is accompanied by a mysterious Brooklyn accent she's never had before; formerly directed at Bree's Fallopian shame -- is now pointed squarely at her husband, who is back from service in the Middle East and I guess preferred it there. So apparently it's okay now to compare that experience to your marriage, I guess we've turned that corner. "Take my wife, please! I'll stick with Fallujah." Randomly, Mary starts quizzing Richard about her likes and dislikes ("No, the stripper's name was Ginger, Cinnamon was her sister. Killed by a cab.") but the only activity he can think of that she enjoys is bitching. So that's fun.
Finally Lynette corners her and sends the boys upstairs so she can beat the shit out of Susan for circumventing her parenting and being a terrible friend and employee. Susan responds that it doesn't matter how weak and gross she is, because Lynette is a "lazy mom." The fuck you say? Lynette says that whether or not that's true, Susan doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about, anyway, and besides, still not her kid, so how about Susan cuts it out with the self-centered guilt trips and just does her fucking job?
Nope. Susan quits. She is too high-and-mighty and convinced that she is a better mother than Lynette, and shecan't stop talking about it for even one second. Lynette points out that this is extreme, although she doesn't seem willing to acknowledge how friendship-endingly impolite Susan is being.
Susan opens up her mouth and out rainbows a barrage of bullshit so unbelievably intense it actually makes the earth shake a little bit. "I cannot stand by and listen to that baby cry. Even for one minute. It's more than I can handle. I listen to MJ crying himself to sleep every night because he misses his dad. I cry myself to sleep because my kid is crying. There's just too much crying in my life. I can't take it." So Lynette pulls out a baseball bat and finally gives her stupidest friend something to cry about.
Nope. Instead, probably realizing it's her own fault for assuming Susan's bony meddling incompetence wouldn't present itself somehow, Lynnette's all, "I had no idea. Do you want to call Mike using my telephone? Even though it is so expensive, I don't mind. I know now how absolutely fragile your mental state has become." Because in 2010 the real issue is those darn long-distance fees you're forced to pay. Is this show written by a time machine? Wasn't Susan a camwhore like a week ago? So you've heard of the internet, yes? And cellphones? Is it possible Susan wasn't able to reach Mike earlier because she was dialing a lightswitch or soup tureen?
"The phone's so expensive, I'd better use this overripe banana to call my husband. Alaska, if you please. Hello? Helllloooo? Alaska? Have I been connected with Alaska? Darn it. Mike, is that you? Alaska, is that you? Oh, for... These overseas connections are always so staticky. Hello?"
Bob is the only attorney in Fairview, but it's okay, because he also practices all the kinds of law that there are. So now he's got his immigration lawyer hat on for Carmen. Hector's a lost cause, and even Carmen's being realistic about how she's breaking the law, but Gaby doesn't want to hear it because she is obsessed with Grace. "We always knew this day might come," Carmen explains: "This was the plan. I'm sticking to it." Grace packs up all her crap and tells Gaby she's going on a trip, and Gabrielle continues hammering at Carmen, but it's only by dangling the promise of more Juanita in her life that makes a dent. So the new plan is to keep Carmen and Grace in the basement at the Solis house so nobody can find them. That's the new plan.
Renee and Tom drink some nice huge glasses of wine, all alone now that Susan and Lynette are grab-assing around across the street and all the kids are dead or dying in a ditch somewhere for all they know. Renee plays a sad sad song about how she's old and lonely and sad and sexy and how she wishes she'd settled for somebody like Tom instead of only dating successful men who've made something of themselves. Instead of being offended, Tom stares at her boobs until Lynette comes back over and grabs Renee's wine and they say they were talking about her, only the most complimentary things, like how Lynette's got the kind of husband you'd risk your business and friendships to steal. Again.
Bree goes over to Keith's bachelor pad to check on him and apologize for destroying his parents' marriage, but as usual Keith wouldn't blame Bree if she had actually done anything wrong. Finally the dad appears and explains that, since Keith's been out of the house for a good 20 years, he has no idea how long this has been coming. Keith responds by throwing a fit about how he doesn't want his parents to get divorced and how he doesn't believe in marriage anymore, and Bree's like, "I will never give up on marriage because when it works, it's great. And I still believe it could happen again for me!"
Everybody notices that she just said that to her boyfriend, in front of his father, which is a Rules no-no if ever there was one, so they decide to take a walk and forget all about it. But before they go, the dad hits on Bree and she stares at him with the surprise and shock of somebody who is about to leave her pointless boyfriend for his marginally older, vastly hotter father who hates women almost as much as Bree does.
Beth visits her mom in jail to talk more about the marital arts and whatever it is that they want her to do, which used to make sense but is now really getting kind of muddy, and Felicia, this is her big new plan: "Join some Wine of the Month club, start getting him drunk on a regular basis." I don't really understand how Felicia's mind works at all. "Have some wine and talk about your murders. Not interested? Well, there's always month."
Beth wonders if maybe Paul didn't kill Aunt Martha, which is also wrong but marginally less crazy than Felicia's bizarre obsession with him, and Felicia tells her to shut the operation down and leave the house immediately. Beth protests, finally admitting she doesn't want to move out on her husband, and Felicia loses her shit all over the place to the point where the guards have to drag her away. Way to make your case, Mom.
Gaby makes breakfasts for her pet fugitives and tries to talk Bob into changing the way immigration laws work, but he can't do anything. Carlos wants to throw money at the problem, Gaby wants to stamp her feet, Carmen just wants to know what she can do get away from Gabrielle's crazy eyes. Bob tells them Carmen's choices are to turn herself in or disappear -- they'll never think to look for her in Texas! -- and Gaby, having just lost the plot entirely, worries about Grace getting deported. Carmen manages not to roll her eyes. "She was born here? Switched at birth? American hospital? You were there? She's an American citizen." Gaby's eyes go dark and she runs to tell Grace that she can have waffles all day long, if she wants: As long as Carmen dies or is otherwise eliminated.
In three weeks/the penultimate winter episode: Some Cynthia Watros, a bit more John Schneider and Mitzi Kinsky (who's hopefully learned to recycle); Gaby continues to think up ways to kidnap Grace and/or get Juanita deported; Keith probably fails once again to pop the question; Tom throws a fit about his dick and Renee stupidly tells Susan about her history with that same dick; and Paul's plan for Wisteria Lane is revealed: His army of ex-convicts is building a rocket to the moon!
Watch the episode below, discuss it in our forums, then see last season's most outlandish moments.
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