Let's get this party started. And I mean that literally. At the Ranch, the children Gray are planning what a newly-made banner tells us is Maxine's 60th birthday party. Amy, of course, is bossing everyone around, giving assignments and checking things off on a little list. I am relieved to note that she has given DJ detail to Vincent and not to Mr. Funky Fresh, Peter. Amy is going down her list like a maniac, telling Peter to get the cake and wondering who is going to get the "mint chip" ice cream that Maxine loves. Vincent, my darling, oh, light of my life, lolls on the sofa and corrects Amy, telling her that Maxine just likes vanilla with her cake. Amy hollers at Peter to get both. Vincent chuckles and tells Amy that "this Judge thing" is the worst thing that could have happened to her (and them), because she was bossy enough to begin with. Amy says that she wants everything to be perfect, because "it's Mom." Oh, yeah, because Amy's all selfless like that. Vincent points out that "that's why we shouldn't be doing it," as Maxine comes in the house. Peter awkwardly holds his little banner behind his back as Amy shoves her checklist under Vincent's butt. Oh, to be a leaf of paper on -- um, never mind. Anyway, Maxine, no fool she, wonders why all her children have congregated and takes the opportunity to give them her living will. She needs them to "read it thoroughly! No skimming!" and then to sign it. Peter and Amy squeal. Vincent just crinkles his forehead. Maxine tells them that their signing the will can be their present to her and that's "the last" she wants to hear about her birthday. Vincent shoots Amy an "I told you so!" look. She glares at him, as the wonk-y wonktastic Drum Machine of Familial Tension kicks it up a notch.
Credits! They're creditastic!
Outside, Amy attempts to teach Lauren to ride her bike, with little success. Every single consecutive moment I spend watching Lauren gargle her own special blend of baby-talk and brat-speak is another moment wasted, in this long walk towards death, and so I will merely summarize this mother-daughter moment by telling you that Amy can't teach Lauren how to ride a bike, and Lauren is a giant spoiled little monster. You know, I think Amy would have more success with her daughter if she started using the phrases "young lady" and "serious trouble." Worked for my mom.
Amy stomps into the kitchen of the Ranch, where she announces that she is a "terrible mother." Vincent barely looks up and agrees, pointing out that at least she "looks good." It concerns me that Vincent's definition of looking good includes a puffy vest. Amy bitches that teaching Lauren to ride a bike is "Michael's job." Vincent tells Amy that it's "kind of sexist" of her to assume that it's the father's responsibility to teach sporty stuff, like biking riding. Amy explains that, actually, Michael promised to teach Lauren, he just keeps forgetting to actually do it. She bitterly comments that maybe he'll "teach her how to hail a cab." Vincent mildly offers to teach Lauren himself. Amy wipes her mouth and snippily tells him to "go with God." Vincent tells Amy that before their mother left the house that morning, she had him sign the living will. He waves it in the air. Amy, stunned, asks if he actually did so. Vincent, taken aback that she even had to ask, says that of course he did, because "that's what she wants." See, Amy doesn't know from what other people want. Who cares what other people want? It's all about her. Vincent uses this whole "what Maxine wants" conversation to attempt to convince Amy to call off the surprise party, but guess what? Amy knows what's best! Yup! She tells Vincent that Maxine "needs to be celebrating her life, not thinking about ending it," and smugly concludes that they're "the people to teach her that!" Vincent doubts that some cake and a slide show are going to induce that kind of epiphany. Amy says that he's wrong, and she's right. Vincent, bless his heart, realizes that there's no way he's going to convince Amy that she isn't the world's most smartest, bestest person, and, abandoning the party problem, instead tries to persuade Amy to at least sign the damn will. She snits that she's "not touching that thing!" and stomps up the stairs, frizzy hair flopping all about. Vincent looks down at the counter. "Bitch," he mutters. To me.
In the Halls of Justice, Donna toddles into Amy's chambers, where our "esteemed" judge is going over her docket with Bruce. Donna tells Amy that she looked into "the stuff," and spouts some "clever" dialogue that makes it sound as though she's been investigating condom availability and variety. Oh, it's very urbane. I feel like I accidentally switched over to Masterpiece Theatre, it's so very cosmopolitan and suave and genteel. Bruce attempts to excuse himself, but Amy tells him that they're just talking about balloons! Oh, I get it! BALLOONS! God, that was so funny. God, I'm dying from laughing over here! Stop it writers, stop it! You're hurting me! Oy! Bruce grins wryly and says that he knew that, he just…doesn't…like to talk about…balloons. Amy attempts to dismiss Donna and get back to work, but she sort of lolls in the door before stammering that she's really grateful to Amy for letting her be a part of her family. Can I just ask y'all something? Okay: Amy is selfish, self-absorbed, exasperating, irksome, frustrating, nauseating and annoying. Vincent, with whom Donna lives, is a successful writer, so he's artistic. He's also sensitive, kind and has a good sense of humor. And he teaches children how to ride bikes. And he has integrity. And is white hot. And, yet, Amy is Donna's idol. Why is that? WHY? God! What is up with that? Okay. Sorry. I'm okay now. Deep breaths. I'm fine now. Everything is okay. Everything is just fine. So, back to the action at hand: Amy has to go back into court, and Bruce asks if they can finish going over her docket during lunch. But Amy has "mediation" during lunch. Bruce comments that the mediation isn't on her schedule. Amy confesses that it's actually part of her divorce proceedings. Bruce is sorry he even asked. As are we all, Bruce. As are we all.
In court, Amy presides over another case in which a rich, white "upstanding young man" type has been accused of some horrific crime: in this case, getting drunk, stealing a car, and running over some mysterious guy, one summer. He wasn't sure that he had actually hit anything, you see, and never went back to check. He left the man to die. One summer. In the middle of the road. And then ditched the car. And heard about it the morning on the news. And decided not to turn himself in. He thought everything was fine until he started getting mysterious notes from a guy in a Gorton's Fisherman's outfit, and his friend Buffy had her hair mysteriously chopped off, and his friend Ryan Philippe got killed in the shower, and then his boyfriend Freddie Prinze Jr. and he had to go and fight this mysterious fisherman with a hook for a hand in a thunderstorm and he barely survived. Amy wants to think about the case a bit, but she refuses to dismiss it out of hand. She knows what he did last summer.
At DCF, Maxine is on the phone with the publishers of "Modern Maturity," a copy of which she holds in her hot little hand. She barks that she doesn't want a subscription to "Modern Maturity." She doesn't care if it's free. She doesn't want it. She slams the phone down. Tanya (the formerly nameless Sassy Black Friend, who at last has a name), waits for her to finish stewing, then offers to take her to lunch for her birthday. Maxine grudgingly agrees, but then removes a Bowie knife from her quilted purse and holds it to Tanya's throat and makes her swear that there will be no office party for her birthday. Repeat after me: Maxine does not want a party. No party. In the midst of the no-party ya-ya, Maxine gets a call -- she needs to pick up three children whose parents turned violent as they exchanged custody for the weekend. She dashes out to dispense justice and truth to the masses.
Amy and Michael, meanwhile, are in the midst of the mediation. Amy tells the mediator that they'd like to make the divorce as easy as possible. There is some good-natured banter about some ugly vase they received as a wedding gift, but then they get into the nitty-gritty. Amy tells the Mediator that she doesn't want alimony, but that she would like an increase in child support. See, she just wants Lauren to have everything she could possibly need and/or want. Because, you know, a judge, who does not pay rent, or utilities, or, well, anything, she can't afford to buy trinkets for her child. It's hand-to-mouth. Because all of Amy's salary is going into blouses and porn. It's the only explanation. So, then the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan as Michael gets aggro about the proverbial custody agreement. He figures if he's paying out the nose for child support, he ought to at least get to see Lauren. Michael, she's a brat. Count your blessings. Amy tells Michael that he misses half of his scheduled appointments anyway. Michael yammers something about seeing Lauren once a week, or every other month, or something. He hasn't thought it all the way through, but he wants more. Amy snorts.
Maxine arrives at what looks like a Jiffy Lube to collect the children from her case du jour. I don't know why parents would pull the custody switcheroo at a Jiffy Lube, but there you go; the kids, three little cuties, are standing under some tireless, greasy old hunks of junk as their mother screams at their father, and their father screams at their mother, and the police hold them apart. Nothing says KLASS like a brawl at a quickie oil change joint, I always say. It's like the Jerry Springer Road Show over there, as Mom screams that Dad has some sleazy ho-bag on the side, and Dad yelps that Mom has turned the kids against him. The three angels stare at their rotten parents. Maxine kneels to the children and explains gently that she's going to take care of them until their parents work out their problems, and that they're going to make the best of a bad situation. She then takes them for popsicles. I'm sorry. I'm weak. I can't help loving a woman who believes in the healing power of popsicles. Well, "loving" is a strong word. I can't help not hating a woman who believes in the healing power of popsicles.
It's raining. Amy stands by the window in her chambers and stares the Gray Family Stare of Great Pensive Pensivity. Bruce sticks his head in the door and tells Amy that she's needed in court. She turns to him, all pensively pensive. He asks how mediation went. She pensively tells him that she had to call a divorce attorney. Bruce looks sympathetic. Amy explains that Michael wants greater visitation rights. She pensively bites her lip. Bruce looks at his shoes, and tells Amy that his sister was involved in an ugly custody battle. Amy pensively stares past Bruce's shoulder and says that while she doesn't think Michael is going to get out of hand-- "You can't take any chances," Bruce finishes for her. Amy attempts to nod cheerily, but it's a pensive kind of cheer. Amy asks how Bruce's sister's case ended up. Bruce looks uncomfortable and awkwardly tells her to worry about her own problems. He leaves the room. Amy looks pensively at the ground, pensively rubs her forehead, and pulls pensively at her pensive-looking curls. She goes back to pensively staring out the Window of Pensivity at the Great Rainfall of Pensiveness.
In court, Amy presides over a case in which the father refuses to continue paying for his daughter's college tuition, simply because she no longer plans to attend medical school. See, the parents are divorced, and the custody agreement states that Pa would pay for college and medical school. Now, he claims, because his daughter no longer wants to go to medical school, he doesn't have to pay for any of it, especially since she's over 18. Ma points out that Kid planned to become a doctor when she was seven years old, and that it's hardly realistic to hold her to that promise. Pa whines that he's remarried, he's got this other family, college is expensive, it's a hardship trying to rustle up the cash to pony up for tuition, and so on and so forth, ad nauseum. We. Get. It. Boy, did he get the wrong judge. Amy doesn't buy the no medical school = no tuition equation, and demands to see financial reports from both Ma and Pa.
DCF. Maxine tries to get hold of the Jiffy Lube Children's relatives, someone who can watch them. Phone cradled on her shoulder, she plays cat's cradle with the girl, while the boys play with her office supplies, and make rude comments to one another. She can't find anyone in town to take the children, and the girl asks if they can stay with her. Maxine says she'd love to have them, but that it's against the rules. The girl asks if it's because Maxine is too old. Maxine sighs. The girl then proclaims that she's never getting old. Or married. Neither are the boys, so say they! Maxine concentrates on the cat's cradle. Cat's cradle does take a high level of concentration.
So, Amy and her lawyer, and Michael and his lawyer, meet across this huge, very lawyer-y conference table. Amy is wearing a groovy mod print black and white shirt, but her make-up is screwy; she looks like hell and she needs to wax her upper lip. I'm sorry, I wish I didn't have to tell you that, but it's the unvarnished truth. Michael demands more time with Lauren: summer, all weekends, all holidays. Amy snips that he ought to use the time he has now. Michael sighs that all he wants is "a say" in Lauren's life. He then gets all steely-eyed and snaps that he wants joint custody. Amy hyperventilates. She has so much trouble catching her breath I think they may have to intubate. Calling Dr. Carter! Amy's lawyer tells Michael's lawyer that she's going to rip out their still beating hearts and throw it back in their faces in the courtroom. Amy catches her breath at last and tells Michael she's going to "fight him." After Michael and his legal counsel stomp out of the room, Amy's lawyer reassures her that they're going to be okay. Amy pouts.
When Amy and her big gray Volvo pull up at the Ranch, Lauren is riding her bike down the street, trailed by her triumphant teacher, Vincent. Lauren is also wearing a puffy vest. Please, people, stop it with the puffy vests. As she zooms past, Lauren squeals that Vincent is a better teacher than Amy, who pouts. Vincent just laughs and hugs her. I love him. Is everyone aware of that? Just checking. Amy smiles painfully as Lauren bikes in slo-mo through the street. Oh no, Lauren! Watch out for that car! Damn. That was my dream. There is no car.
Maxine is in court at the Jiffy Lube Children's hearing. Their parents exchange nasticisms. Maxine stands up to testify, and manages to make all kinds of snide commentary about the parents, most of which the judge appreciates. The two of them kick all kinds of ass, fining and insulting the rotten parents all across the board. Maxine suggests that henceforth the parents exchange the kiddies at a supervised "child exchange center" at a church forty-five minutes away. And, she says, if they can't put their differences behind them, DCF will take the children into protective custody. The judge agrees -- and decides Maxine ought to supervise the exchange. D'oh!
Amy and Maxine meet near the vending machine of the courthouse, mother chastising daughter for her unhealthy lunch. Amy gets snippy, as is her wont. She explains the situation with Michael. Maxine is supportively angry, calling Michael a "bastard!" Amy passively defends her ex-husband, however, telling Maxine that Michael has a good heart. Maxine sighs and tells her that it's hard to "support you when you keep switching sides."
God, I hate the court scenes. This one is all about how, while Erstwhile Jennifer Love Hewitt is a good, upstanding citizen, and a Harvard student, and a Big Brother, that doesn't make his crime any less criminal. DCF makes the salient point that it shouldn't matter if the person he killed was a homeless drunk or a nun; he took a life. Period. Amy looks like she's trying not to cry. Maybe she has some schmutz in her eye.
Amy makes an appointment for dinner with Michael. She wants to work out the Lauren issue. As she makes the date, she looks up from her papers and hisses to Bruce that The Incredible College Tuition-Dodging Dad has some wacked out financial statements. She thinks he's been falsifying them. She hangs up the phone, gathers her papers and stares purposefully at Bruce. "Let's dispense some justice," she says. Yee haw!
In court, Amy manages to get TICT-DD to admit that he's unemployed, and trying to keep it a secret. She also finds out that he's still sending his two sons to a super-expensive and fancy-schamcy private school, because, you know, that was more important than his daughter's college education. Amy tells him that his priorities are screwy, and that he has a responsibility to keep his word to his daughter. Consider justice dispensed!
Amy and Michael meet for dinner at a cheesy Italian restaurant. Amy starts off okay, attempting to be understanding, bountiful and kind, but as usual, she degenerates into snappish and hysterical. She and Michael squeal at one other about Christmas custody, and Michael once again brings up the money issue, saying that he feels it's sort of unfair that he's paying so much money to keep his daughter in bike helmets and sweaters, but that he never gets to see her in them. Amy freaks and screams and stomps out, mad that he has mentioned money at all. I have to say, I can kind of see where Michael is coming from; he'd like to see that the money he gives Amy every month has actually gone towards Barbies and Lunchables, not Nexus Humectress and Manolo Blahniks. I mean, he does know Amy.
Amy pays her baby brother a visit over at the Rancherito. He's putting on a tie. He looks hot in a tie. Vincent tries to convince Amy to abandon plans for the obviously ill-fated birthday party, but Amy will hear none of it. She wonders, nosily, why Vincent is wearing a tie. He tells her that he has a hot date with me. Um, I mean, he's meeting his editor, and then joining Michael for a drink. Amy, naturally, wigs. She acts as though Vincent has ratted her out to the Nazis for a carton of cigarettes. Vincent calmly explains that, for a while, he was closer to Michael than he was to Peter. Obviously, because Peter is some kind of dorky pod person. Actually, as g-girl pointed out in the forums, I find it hard to believe that Vincent is related to Amy or Peter at all. I think the fairies left him on the doorstep. Anyhoo, Amy sputters and yammers, but Vincent calmly tells her that he's staying out of the custody dispute, and he's just going to have a drink with the man. He tells her that this has "nothing to do with [her]," and that he's not "taking sides here." He sort of sighs, and looks at her and offers to cancel, if it really upsets her. "You do what you think is right," Amy snips, passive-aggressively. Can I suggest what that might be? No? It involves Amy and a dart gun. It's fun for the whole family! What's that, Vincent? Leave your sister alone? Okay, but your constant kindness to her is beginning to affect our marriage.
At DCF, Tanya tells Maxine that she wants to take her out for "flaming Bahama Mamas" in honor of her birthday. I like me some Tanya. She knows how to treat a girl on her birthday. Nothing says "felicitations!" like drinks that you set on fire. I am so not joking about this. Maxine agrees -- but says that if Tanya so much as brings a present, she's out of there.
Halls of Justice. Erstwhile Jennifer Love Hewitt. Amy tells him that, for his crimes, which include grand theft auto, drunk driving, hit and run, leaving the scene of the crime, murder, and impersonating Audrey Hepburn with less skill than a drunken Hoboken drag queen, he will be transferred to the criminal courts system where he will be tried as an adult. Those Neutrogena ads are going to take on a whole new flavor when they start filming them from lockdown.
Vincent has gone through with his little date with Michael, who tells him that he ought to leave Connecticut and move to New York, and offers to help him find an apartment. Vincent pops the olive from the martini into his mouth (and really, what's an episode of Judging Amy without hard liquor? Providence, that's what), and tells Michael that he doesn't need to make Vincent like him -- he had him at hello. I mean, when he let him drive his Porsche. Michael says he did that to impress Amy. Vincent tells Michael that he and Amy are going to get through this rough time. Michael says he hopes so, but that divorce makes things ugly. Vincent tries to change the subject and talk about work, but Michael brings the subject back to Amy, asking how serious she is about the custody battle. Vincent's voice gets kind of tight and he says they don't talk about it. Michael tries to make his case to Vincent, but our boy will have none of it, saying that he doesn't want to take sides.
Michael barrels ahead, saying that it infuriates him when Amy insinuates that he isn't a good parent. He says he's "always there" for Lauren. Uncle Vincent, clearly recalling the fact that he was the one who had to teach the kid to ride her bike, angrily reminds Michael that most of the time, he doesn't even show up. When he tells Michael that it was he who did the bike teaching, Michael snips that Vincent "does the martyr thing" as well as Amy. Oooooh, comparing Vincent to Amy; them's fighting words! Vincent shakes his head, stands up, and calmly announces that the evening is over. Michael jumps up and apologizes. He claims that he just doesn't get why Amy is being such a bitch. He wonders if it's the new job, or "living with your mother. What is she, sexually frustrated?" Vincent hauls back and decks him! "I'm the wrong guy to ask," he says, and walks calmly out of the bar. Michael staggers around and wipes blood from his chin. Hey, I know man-on-man violence isn't really okay, because it promotes, um, bad things in today's already too-violent society, but that was kind of hot. Of course, this is coming from someone who would find Vincent snaking a clogged drain kind of hot.
Back at the Ranch, the party has been a big fat bust. Maxine never showed up. Amy, dressed in some horrible Disco Queen top and long velvet skirt getup that makes her look like a drawing from Fashion Plates wherein some child attempted to create the most mismatched top and bottom combo ever, whines that Maxine could at least have called. Vincent says, angrily, that Maxine told them she didn't want a party. Amy is the only one surprised that Maxine ditched them. Maxine, at that moment, does show up. Amy brats that "you won this one, Mom." Maxine says, "I told you, I didn't want a party." Amy snips that some greyhairs she invited drove three hours to attend. Maxine says that Amy "must feel pretty bad for putting them through that after I told you I didn't want a party." Vincent helpfully says that it was a good party. Maxine approaches her daughter, and apologizes for, and I quote, "spoiling your plans for my birthday." Peter and Gillian run out before they can get involved in this saga. Maxine sagely points out that it was, after all, her birthday. And that's when Amy stands up and actually has the GALL to say "that's where you got it wrong." Oh. My. God. That's right folks, I'm so sorry, but Amy actually gets to run every facet of every life she comes in contact with, from her mother, to the people in her courtroom. See, Maxine's birthday, which is, I believe, the one day a year that she ought to be able to do whatever she chooses, without complaints or commentary, is actually ALL ABOUT AMY. That's what they ought to call this show: All About Amy. I suggest the theme song go something like this: "All about Amy / 'It's all about me!' / All about Amy / Not a single person is free / Amy, Amy, Amy! / Grant her every wish / All about Amy / That psychotic bitch!" Then, as if insinuating that Maxine ought to do whatever Amy wants FOR HER OWN BIRTHDAY was not enough, Amy tells Maxine that she thinks the rest of the family "had a right" to celebrate her birthday with her. Because they love her and shit. Maxine does not reply. She does not even look at Amy. Instead, she smiles at the only child she has who has any shred of selflessness (that'd be Vincent), and announces that she's tired and going to bed. And she does. Not even looking at Amy. Or saying a word. It's official: I think I love her. Vincent shrugs at Amy. Amy commands, "Not a word from you, traitor." Vincent tells Amy that he already "defended" her once that day, and tells her that he punched Michael. He apologizes, sincerely upset that he turned to violence. He's a lover, not a fighter. Amy hugs him and tells him that she "adores" him. Hey, get your hands off my man!
Amy goes upstairs and kisses Lauren, who was just faking sleep. She tells Amy that she can't wait to show her Dad that she can ride her bike. Amy is mature enough not to talk trash about Michael to Lauren, and she smiles and turns off the light and leaves the room. I hope Lauren pays Amy back in kind for the way Amy's treating Maxine. Although I'm not sure what could beat moving back home with an obnoxious child, making a ton of money, refusing to pay room or board, totally ignoring all requests or suggestions, and complaining all the time, unless it involves actually burning the Ranch to the ground, and killing the dog.
2:09 AM. Amy sleeps the sleep of the damned. Maxine opens her door and wakes her up. She tells her that she "didn't read [Maxine's] living will." Amy tries to go back to sleep. She refuses to sign the will, because, she says, Maxine is not going to die. Maxine tells her that everyone is going to die, and that Amy's going to go first, if she doesn't sign the will. Well, she doesn't mention that last part, exactly, but it is strongly implied. Maxine says Amy has to sign it "because of tonight." She snaps that Amy "doesn't listen to her." And she says that if something happens to her, she wants Amy to do what she, Maxine, wants, not what Amy "thinks is best." Amy skims the living will, but has to be commanded to sign it. When she does, Maxine thanks her pertly, and says that's what she wanted for her birthday. Amy asks if they can have what she "wanted for [Maxine's] birthday." Again, I ask: What kind of person thinks they get gifts when it is another person's birthday entirely? What kind of nitwit is she? Maxine asks if there are guests involved. There are not.
Downstairs, mother and daughter eat cake, and ice cream, and drink champagne while they watch the slide show Vincent put together. I admit, these pictures of Tyne Daly crack me up. Maxine gets all weepy at the family photos. Amy wishes her mother a happy birthday and Maxine sings a soft "happy birthday to me," as she plays with her daughter's hair. Damn Tyne Daly. Damn her. Damn her for making me like her. I never wanted to. I promised Wing I'd make merciless fun of her. I tried. I tried so hard. But I can't. I'm weak. I can't hold off anymore. I love her. There, I said it. I love her. I'm so ashamed. God, I am so ashamed.
Hey, y'all, I'm going on vacation week, and the superlative keckler is stepping in as our super-special guest recapper! Keep it down while I'm gone, will ya?