Previously on Jack and Jill: Jack and Matt have end-of-date awkwardness, discussing when, if ever, she will invite him in; Elisa's fire-engine red office casuals draw stares from a handsome stranger and she thinks it's love; Barto offers Audrey "something better than safe" and, judging from his mild manner and cozy sweater, we suspect that he doesn't mean "danger"; Jill learns that the woman he just bunked with is married, "but that doesn't mean we can't have fun, eh?" she says, speaking for married women everywhere -- or at least adulterous Canadian wives on The WB.
Mikey's fern bar. Jill swills a refreshing Dos Equis. Ogling two women dressed for winter IN LOS ANGELES, where this New York-set show is blatantly filmed, Mikey announces his desire to seek out "a pseudo-girlfriend," a phenomenon he defines as "more than a one-night stand but less than someone you've got to go out with every Saturday night." I believe the correct term would be "quasi-" or even "semi-girlfriend," but who's asking. Certainly not Randi Mayem Singer, who wrote this episode. Apparently "the beauty of" this arrangement is that the hapless pseudo-girlfriend never knows about her rookie status, and is therefore deprived of the contingent glee when, if ever, she gets "bumped up." Let the record show that Simon Rex learned a few things about getting bumped up in his career trajectory from Young Hard and Solo to prime time. The man-child knows of what he speaks. And Mikey, that troglodytic comment just earned you the nickname "Missing Link."
Jack walks into the bar, wearing a wrongly-placed barrette that makes her head resemble the body of a squid. Jill grills Jack on Matt's whereabouts while Link smirks knowingly. Despite the fact that he's the sole bartender in an ostensibly crowded bar, he has ample time to stand around coining synonyms for the phrase "fuck buddy." "Maybe you're a pseudo," he suggests to Jack, flaunting his agrammatical joie de vivre by using an adjectival prefix as a noun. Jack protests feebly that she's seen Matt "every Saturday night for the lastweek." Link and Jill debate the likelihood of Matt juggling other pseudos, and Jill decides he wants to procure a pseudo-girlfriend of his own. Right on cue, a busty brunette with a poodle perm swivels around on the barstool behind him and asks if he's David Jillefsky. When he says yes -- with the unctuous leer of the about-to-get-lucky -- she hands him a summons and says, in the saucy, suggestive manner of subpoena-deliverers everywhere (oh, never mind), "Congratulations. You've been sued." Hoisting her chest off the bar, she hobbles into the night. Trusty Link assures Jill that she was not pseudo material.
Roll credits. Boys walking together, girls walking together, cops walking together, district attorneys walking together -- oh wait, I was dreaming of Law and Order. And now it's time to wake up and smell the bitter brew . . . but I can't, because I'm too preoccupied with your Wind Song. Which haunts me so that I must quit my job at the foundry and mow you down on a trestle bridge.
Jill faces his lawyer in Cloudia's Caf, the kind of brightly-lit, muffins-n'-cocoa bakery you find on every street corner in Manhattan. Or at least on the Warner Brothers lot in Studio City. The lawyer, a dissipated character actor destined for "Hey, It's That Guy!" status on Fametracker, explains the case to Jill with his mouth full, the soundtrack drenched in gratuitous chewing sounds. Jill is apparently being sued for alienating the affections of Laurie Tindell from her husband, Michael Preston. "I didn't steal anyone's hhhwife!" Jill protests adenoidally, causing everyone in the caf to drop their forks and stare at him, shocked as they are by the slightest thing, like New Yorkers everywhere . . . in Utah.
The lawyer sprays, not says, more dialogue while continuing to chew audibly. He dismisses the case as harassment and promises to "make it go away" before cutting to the chase: "So . . . you had some hot sex with her, huh?" He then bares a set of nicotine-stained teeth and chortles at his own witticism while Jill stares slack-jawed into space. I could be wrong, but in this scene they might be broaching the revolutionary concept that lawyers have questionable morals! What will they think of ? Maybe something about how bartenders are salacious knuckle-scrapers, maybe? Oh, wait -- they already did that. Let's move on.
News office. Jack, festooned in Polarfleece, runs into Matt at the elevator. Naturally, she is wearing a tasseled yak-fur hat with earflaps. And he has on a Shriner's fez and two oven mitts. Oh wait, that was actually an acid flashback. He's dressed like an on-air news personality. Let's call him Anchormatt. They trade amorous chit-chat until Anchormatt breaks from an incipient clinch to board the elevator with another colleague. He makes a big point of thanking her for the nonexistent "work she's been doing." Perplexed, Jack bobbles her hatted head in a gesture I assume is meant to suggest humorous consternation. She heads straight to Elisa's desk, where Elisa is staring dreamily at a video monitor. Jack whips off the hat and says, "Should it bother me that Matt doesn't want anyone in the office to know that we're dating?" Bare-headed, she's got the critical case of hat-head she bought and paid for when she donned that silly rag in the first place. "Doth it bother you?" asks the lip-glossed Elisa, or should I say lisp-glossed, as she mangles every sibilant. I hereby dub her Elispa. Today Elispa has borrowed her wardrobe from Holly Hobbie. You know what they say -- when climbing the corporate ladder, be sure to wear lots of pastel rompers. Jack blathers on about whether it's good to publicize an office romance, especially since she and Anchormatt "are not necessarily exclusive." Elispa suggests that perhaps this is the bothersome factor, then turns back to the video screen. Jack sees that Elispa is scanning Office Fight Night footage for "that mystery guy." Elispa succinctly says, "Scho?" Just as Jack is lecturing her on the dangers of wanting candy from strangers, Elispa freeze-frames on the boy in question, filmed in @Bar carrying a video. More simpering from Elispa, more safety-first from Jack.