Nicole "That Chick From Mad TV" Sullivan is sitting in the reception room at Jerrold Fox and Associates, nervously tapping her foot and chewing her fingernails. Claire acts like she's never seen a nervous person before. That is to say, she's staring at Nicole quite obviously and sighing heavily, at least until she gets a panicked look on her face and bolts from her desk, just like you would if you were going to throw up. How does Claire even have a job? She seeks out Kate to ask her if she remembers the matchmaker "gift certificate" some woman bought for her "failure friend," like, now Kate has gift certificates all of a sudden, I guess, and Kate is all, don't call them failures! And also, don't ask really phony-sounding questions solely for the purpose of passing on information to the audience! So Claire calls the "failure friend" a "desperado" instead, and makes a wisecrack about the desperado being about to chew her own hand off. Kate's all, oh no! Well, I'll meet with her after I meet this ACTUAL CLIENT at my dad's law firm where I have a real job, okay? But if you have any more wisecracks to fire off in lieu of behaving like an actual receptionist, you come and see me, okay?
Nick and Kate meet this woman whining about how her husband hates her hair, her voice, and her cooking. "How can he hate my cooking? My cooking's the best thing about me!" Nick, who once in a while should try to pretend like he doesn't actually hate his clients, asks "Ms. Baxter" if she did her husband's laundry too, and Ms. Baxter nods. Good news, says Nick. "You don't have to do his laundry anymore, because we're going to take him to the cleaners," he says. Kate takes a break from making her typical Sad Face to roll her eyes at Nick's stupid joke. Then she asks Ms. Baxter how much money her husband made while they were married. "He was unemployed," says Ms. Baxter. Nick's all, remember my stupid joke about the cleaners? It may have been a bit premature. Ms. Baxter tells them that her husband sold a computer program for ten million dollars after they separated, and Nick ponders how cool that is, before telling her she can't touch it, since he sold it after they were separated, so it's considered his personal property. Baxter's upset that she devoted herself to her computer geek husband and now she has nothing, while he has everything. Fortunately, Kate actually asks her questions to find out the circumstances of the separation, unlike Nick, who's more concerned with making smart remarks. Turns out Mr. Baxter wrote the computer program while they were married, so bingo dingo dango, it's community property again! Ms. Baxter, you're going to get five million dollars! Can't give you your youth back, though, I'm afraid. Then Claire just kind of MATERIALIZES to say to Kate, "You've got a runner." So Kate dumps off the paperwork on Nick (who looks less than pleased about it) and zips off.
The "runner" is Nicole Sullivan, whose name here is Rachel, a 32-year-old CPA who's never been married. Kate manages to slide into the elevator just before it closes, so I guess the elevator has been sitting there waiting this whole time. Kate asks Rachel what floor she wants, and Rachel just wants any floor with an exit, a stairwell, or a window. "Something wrong?" asks Kate, with what must be some kind of intuition only matchmakers have, so Rachel goes off on how there's actually -- horror of horrors -- a matchmaker working at this law firm. "Get out!" says Kate. Rachel can't believe she almost went through with using the gift certificate her friend gave her for a birthday present. Then the elevator doors open and Claire's standing right there, which must be quite upsetting. Rachel apparently didn't even notice that the elevator wasn't MOVING. "Hi. Kate Fox. The matchmaker!" says Kate.
After the opening credits, Kate says that if Rachel's going to do this, she has to be open-minded. "It's my destiny to be alone in this world," says Rachel, who really took Kate's advice about open-mindedness to heart. Rachel says that when she was but a kid, some evil fortune-teller told her she would never ever fall in love. Oh, well then. Kate says Rachel didn't really believe that, did she? Well, here we are. Rachel's never been in love. Kate does her best to find Rachel's inner romantic, but Rachel's too busy with the quips, as in "Sleepless in Seattle? Put me to sleep. Bridges of Madison County? I wanted to know more about the bridges." Well, I'm with you on the former, and I never saw the latter, but Kate makes her "aw!" face when Rachel says she's never understood a single love song. Which must be tough, because some people want to fill the world with silly love songs. "And the only thing I take to bed every night is a pint of Tubby Hubby, which really should be called Tubby Single Girl Sitting Home Alone All Her Life." Good luck sneaking that one past marketing. "Fortune-teller or no fortune-teller, we're going to break this spell. It may take some time, but we'll do it. I promise." I'm wondering just where she gets the courage to promise something of this sort, but never mind. She should at least warn Rachel that the match will not work at first and things will blow up in her face, but then everything will be resolved within the hour!
Kate's in a psychiatrist's office, and the shot frames her with a giant print of that famous still of Harold Lloyd hanging from a clock face, which is cool and everything, but not necessarily the best choice for a psychiatrist to decorate his office with, and maybe there are also pictures of domineering mothers and abusive fathers on his other walls, and Kate is babbling on about how her work has become her life, and it's tough when love is your work and you love it but it's not working. That kind of babbling. The psychiatrist says, "Go on." Kate explains that when she sets clients up on a date, she thinks about them before she goes to sleep, and she immediately wants to know the day how the date went. "Buuuuttt…" leads the psychiatrist. Kate pretends that there isn't a but, and it's only after much prodding from the psychiatrist that she reveals that Amy and Michael were at first a real challenge, but now that they're more or less on their own she doesn't worry about them so much, and I'm wondering what the "challenge" part of it was that Kate's talking about; was it getting Michael interested in Amy, the smart, personable, successful, beautiful woman? Or was it getting Amy interesting in Michael, the smart, personable, successful, good-looking man? Come to think of it, maybe the challenge was in getting Amy to ignore Michael's ridiculous goatee.
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Dr. Feelgood is scribbling on a pad, saying he has something that might help. "I need drugs already?" asks Kate. My words exactly watching this show every week, but it's always a statement, never a question. Aw, I kid. I kid because I love! And my love has become my work, and I'm working to love the work that I love…or whatever. No, the doctor's prescribing a book -- a book on establishing boundaries, which I'm sure won't be at all annoying. Well, as long as Dr. Phil's not on the cover, it won't be too bad. Kate jokes about how astute the psychiatrist is for picking up on her need for better boundaries. He smiles and asks to hear about Kate Fox when she isn't making matches. Kate explains that she's a lawyer who works for her dad (which is a "whole other session." Hee!), but then says that she's honestly always making matches, even if they're mental matches. "What's a mental match?" asks the doctor. God! It's a match she makes IN HER HEAD, stupid! Kate answers much more nicely, though; she uses the doctor as an example, explaining that she starts sizing people up -- in the doctor's case, he's warm, handsome, into silent movies, "as evidenced by the décor," many stills of silent movies, not just the Harold Lloyd one -- and then goes through her "mental Rolodex" until she comes up with a match. In this case, it's Elizabeth, a "Renaissance woman" who owns the silent-movie house on Fairfax and also doubles as the projectionist. "That's a mental match," burbles Kate, pleased with herself, and although it's a little too lucky that Kate knows someone who owns a silent movie theatre, she's so happy that it's almost impossible not to like Kate Fox, I have to admit. The doctor keeps scribbling. Kate wants to know what he's writing, but he just smiles at her. "So tell me, John. Are you currently seeing anyone?" He doesn't answer, just reminds Kate that they're here to talk about her. Kate looks dejected.
She looks even more distressed as she wanders through the bookstore. Down one row, a woman is asking where she can find books by Danielle Steel, and there's Adam Goldberg, who really deserves to graduate from Hey! It's That Guy University any day now. He's playing the I'm Smarter Than You Guy quite well here, managing not to come across too snobby to the poor woman asking about the Steel "books," but maybe because she's hot. After he tells her that she "[doesn't] want to read those," he identifies that she's looking for a tearjerker and directs her to Pride and Prejudice, in which she'll get not only her heartbreaking romance, but also a "charming prose style" and "characters [she'll] remember forever." Never having read Jane Austen, I can't comment. I bet Sars can, though! ["I'll probably get my straight-girl membership card revoked for this, but I'm not a fan." -- Sars] Instead of telling him to cram it and show her where the Steel books are, the woman smiles brightly and thanks him, off to buy a book with decidedly less neon on the cover.
Kate was eavesdropping, naturally, and she says she's impressed, but Goldberg says he got fired from Barnes and Noble for "ragging on The Nanny Diaries." Heh. But again, I haven't read it. And this time, I'm betting Sars won't be any help. ["You are correct, sir." -- Sars] Kate asks where she can find Your Boundaries, Your Life, but before she can even tell him the author, he's already making exasperated noises and telling her that if she reads that, she might as well give up on life and move to a desert island, but he'll show her where it is. Had I been Kate, I would have then asked for some Chicken Soup for the Soul too. Just to watch his head explode. He sums up the book as being about establishing boundaries so you don't get too involved in your life (pretty simplistic -- maybe it is by Dr. Phil!), but it's Goldberg's opinion that with boundaries you'll never experience anything worthwhile in life, like love. Kate asks him if he's expert on love as well, so he says that Kafka says a book should be like an ice pick that breaks through the frozen sea around us. Goldberg thinks love should be the same. Only Kate could walk into a big chain bookstore and find a clerk who can quote Kafka. The last time I was in Chapters, I had to spell "Shakespeare" for the poor clerk and her computer. Fortunately, even in Moose Jaw, I have a nice small bookstore (it's actually the only one in town) which might not have every book ever printed, but you can order every book ever printed, and the owner knows me and can actually recommend stuff to me since he knows what I like. If you're ever in Moose Jaw, drop by and say hi to Tim. That is, if the place can stay open without my money, since I'm moving -- I'm scared to think about how much money I've spent there in the past four years. Let's just say Tim felt obligated to invite me to his kid's college graduation. Anyway, Kate says that she knows a girl who really needs to hear the whole love-as-ice-pick metaphor, and Goldberg's all, really? And ding ding ding! Kate gets an idea, and Goldberg turns into a stammering shlub, vacillating between "I can't" and "I can" and "I shouldn't" and finally "what the hell." Kate thinks they'll hit it off just fine.
Kate's on her cell phone talking to Rachel, telling her about "Jared," who Kate describes as an "inner-sensitive Jane Austen with an outer-rebellious Franz Kafka," and Rachel makes an approving "mmm-hmmm!" noise before coming clean and asking if that's good. It is, says Kate. And they're going to meet for drinks at "Elixir," which Kate says was Jared's idea, so "major points right off the bat." Rachel says that's great, before asking, "What's Elixir?"
Well, Elixir is some kind of Zen tea house that sells "tonics and teas," according to its signage. And the stereotypical pan flute that starts wafting over the soundtrack. Jared and Rachel are enjoying tea that has Chinese peony, gingko leaf, and ginseng root. Well, Rachel's not enjoying it so much, or at all, and she apologizes to Jared, who has to tell her that it's really okay if she doesn't like the damn tea. So he concentrates on praising the atmosphere, at least until he sees Rachel make a whatever face, and she admits she appreciates the romantic effort, but it's wasted on her. She sees "torches" and thinks "fire hazard"; she sees "Zen landscaping" and thinks "too lazy to plant anything." Not that she's trying to be negative or anything. "It's a fruitless quest we're both on here, dealing with the ancient forces and proclamations, and…" Jared just keeps nodding. "Most guys would have run away by now," she says. He says he agrees with her, since he thinks love should be epic, that every man should have to battle an unseen foe for the love of a beautiful princess -- or, in this case, he says, the love of a beautiful certified public accountant. Did he steal that from Kafka too? Rachel's so enthralled, she gives her tea another shot.
Kate and Victoria are strolling down the street, and here it's eleven whole minutes into the show and this is the first we get to see Victoria's legs, and meanwhile Kate is wearing some kind of couch covering with fringes, and she's checking her cell phone, which has no messages, which is a good sign because it means Rachel and Jared are still out, and Kate has a good feeling about them. Victoria, ever the romantic, thinks pairing up the CPA and the "book Nazi" means that Kate has lost her matchmaking superpowers, and Kate tosses out the ol' "opposites attract" theory and then says Jared is the ice pick and Rachel is the frozen ice sculpture, whatever THAT'S supposed to mean, and then Victoria finally asks what they're doing here, when I don't even know where they are, and Kate tells her to think "hot, naked men," and Victoria says, "You really are my best friend." Then we see a slide of Michelangelo's David projected on a big screen, and here's Victoria saying she hates Kate as they stroll up to this outdoor lecture at a museum, I guess, like, does anybody ever do anything indoors in L.A.? And how annoying that Kate can't enjoy the lecture or sell it to Victoria on its own merits and has to instead qualify it as "hot, naked men." Victoria hisses, "Why are you doing this to me?" Then we see Michael waving them over. "Suddenly, it all becomes clear," says Victoria. Kate insists that she's here for the David, not the Michael, and besides, this way she can check up on her clients. They make their way to seats to Michael, who calls this a nice little surprise, even thought it distinctly looks like he was waiting for them and saving seats for them. After he and Kate kiss cheeks, he says, "Long time no see," and Kate's all, "Tell me about it!" and asks if this is where he's been hiding out. Michael admits that's he's becoming a huge fan, and we see why when Amy takes the podium to begin the lecture, which is about the representation of the male anatomy in the Italian Renaissance, which perks Victoria right up.
Amy's concluding her lecture with something about the average sculpted phallus being 43 pounds of solid marble, so you can no longer say that size doesn't matter, and I'm betting, based on that lame closing joke, that this so-called "lecture" likely had about zero academic value, but the line gets a good laugh and applause from the crowd, and Michael announces that he's going to be self-conscious for about a week.
Amy finds her way over. Michael greets her as "A.J." and she calls him "M.M." and they start just sucking face, which I can't ever remember any of my university profs doing right after their lectures, whether indoors or outdoors or open to the public or not. Kate and Victoria look on, absolutely delighted (yes, even Kate looks pleased). She says hi to Amy, as A.J. and M.M. come up for air long enough for Michael to help Amy on with her coat. She happily thanks Kate and Victoria for coming, which she didn't know they were going to do. "You were awesome," says Victoria, and Michael agrees, and Amy's all, "You're awesome," to Michael, and they start doing it again. Victoria's still amazed; Kate's starting to look a little more concerned this time. After A.J. and M.M. finally come up for air again, Kate invites the happy couple to join them for a bite to eat, but the two make excuses (clearly made up) about having to meet some friends, and screw off to…well, you get the idea. Kate's wondering if Victoria got some kind of "vibe" off Amy, but Victoria says the only vibe she got was that Amy just wanted to be alone with Michael. Kate picks a Palm Pilot up off one of the chairs, which doesn't belong to Victoria, but was where Amy had happened to have her purse. Kate whines about first having the watch the PDA (as in "public displays of affection") and now having to return one (as in "personal data assistant"), which was a pretty quick quip. Victoria suggests that she can use the PDA to spy on M.M. and A.J., since she'll know exactly where they are at all times. Kate says she would never dream of doing such a thing, so you she's totally going to.
And sure enough, here's Kate, staring at the PDA sitting on her desk the day. Fox Daddy pokes his head in her office to tell her that he's joining them on the Baxter case. Kate wants to know why, since it's under control. Jerrold says the new opposing counsel is a "snake," a "take-no-prisoners son of a bitch" and "one of the best trial lawyers in the business." And, almost as an afterthought, he adds that it's also one of his ex-girlfriends. Kate rolls her eyes, but really, you'd think, the way they characterize Jerrold, that Kate should have known what the odds of that actually were. She follows him out of her office and says it's fine, as long as he tells her "it's not that Sandy woman from when [she] was twelve." "It's that Sandy woman from when you were twelve," confirms Jerrold. D'oh! "Daaaad!" whines Kate, which Jerrold says is just what it sounded like when she was twelve. "It was my first serious relationship after your mother and you made it impossible for me!" he says. Um, did he just blame a twelve-year-old for a failed relationship? Kate counters with, "You couldn't even see straight, you were so gaga, but even at twelve I could recognize evil." Heh. When I was twelve, evil was Rick Astley, since the girl I had a crush on loved him. Him and River Phoenix. A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon, my ass. Kate says Sandy never let her speak, was always interrupting her, and was completely condescending.
As they walk and talk, they walk right into the meeting room where Sandy is, and she's played Michele Lee, who's kind of going for a "Joan Jett at sixty" look. Kate says hi, but Sandy completely freezes her out to say hello to Jerrold. "You're carrying the extra weight well," she says. Jerrold says she looks exactly the same (which I HOPE isn't true). "My compliments to your surgeon," he says. Oh, we're in for some witty ripostes now! "So much for introductions. I'd like to start off --" begins Kate, but she's interrupted again by Sandy, who wants to cut to the chase, saying all Ms. Baxter is entitled to is fifty percent of her husband's unemployment compensation, but he's going to throw in the house as a gesture of goodwill. "We want five million in cash, fifty percent of residual income, and you can keep the house. Hi, I'm Kate Fox. Maybe you remember me." "'Course I remember you, dear. I just didn't realize it was Bring Your Daughter To Work Day." Hee! Sandy tells Kate to rethink the offer, since Mr. Baxter didn't write the program until after the couple split up, so Ms. Baxter ain't entitled to squat. The little Ms. Baxter finally speaks up, saying that all he did while they were married was work on the program. And there's Mr. Baxter, who looks exactly like a really young David Letterman (only instead of funny, he's really cranky. Well, more so), spitting out that it wasn't until he left her that he was able to write anything. After Jerrold calms everybody down, Sandy says, "I'll see you in court," and they stomp out of there. Nick, who's been rather entertained by the whole display, says, "I want to be her when I grow up." Then he says they should take the offer. Jerrold's pissed, though, so he says they're going to subpoena every computer this guy has used since he was in Grade 4, so they can find out exactly when he wrote the program. Then he relaxes a little bit. "'Bring Your Daughter To Work Day.' That was good." Kate glares at him. But it was! It really, really was.
Back in her office, Kate meets up with Rachel and Jared. "How was the date?" she asks. Rachel and Jared just stare at her for a few moments, until Jared conspiratorially says, "We're still on it!" Yes, they've been on a date for 32 hours, and I'd kind of like to know how Jared's deodorant is holding up at this point. They babble on about how extraordinary it is, but after a few minutes they just knew. "Knew what?" says Kate. "Kate, I'm in love!" says Rachel. Kate's thrilled. "We're getting married!" says Jared. He and Rachel kiss. Kate looks a little concerned. I hardly blame her; it's a little early for this. I don't mean in the relationship, I mean in the episode. It's kind of like when you're watching Law & Order and the jury comes back with a not-guilty verdict, and you look at your watch and notice that there's still 15 minutes left, so you just know there's going to be some twist. Commercials.
Rachel takes Kate back to the scene of the crime, er, "date," and starts babbling about how she was sitting just out there, drinking the most amazing "tea-slash-tonic," and everything become so clear. "What kind of tea-slash-tonic was this?" Kate wants to know. "Liquid yoga. Or black tea chi-devil," says Rachel, and Kate helpfully points out that it couldn't have been the tea, since she's had that tea and she's not getting married after one date, after all. "He pushed all my buttons, and I didn't even know I had buttons!" squeals Rachel, who starts listing all the things they did -- the Hollywood Bowl, talked under the stars, ate at a diner, et cetera, when all anybody wants to know is if they did the big squeaky. Kate says she just doesn't want to see Rachel get hurt. "Hurt? I've never felt such joy and excitement and sheer thankfulness to be alive!" She stops cooing, though, since she figures Kate knows what she means. Kate's all, um, sure do!
And I don't know if we're supposed to think that Kate went running right to her shrink, but here we are. He's asking her why Kate doubts that Rachel's really in love. Kate's all, I believe her! I'm just worried about her! Because love doesn't always work this way! Like instant pudding! "For who?" says the shrink. "For anyone," says Kate. "For you?" asks the shrink. "We're not talking about me," says Kate exasperatedly. "I know," says the shrink pointedly. Oh, right, says Kate. John asks if she's ever been in love. Kate says yes, but adds, "I think so. I don't know. I wanna be. I wanna be in love." He posits the brilliant theory that maybe she obsesses over her clients' relationships as a way of avoiding her own. Kate's all, not even! And what's wrong with obsessing over love anyway? "A lot," says the doctor, saying it could lead to "attachment disorder," "separation anxiety," or "love addiction." "'Love addiction'? Come on," says Kate, at exactly the same time I do. John says he's serious, and there's even a twelve-step group that rips off, I mean, "models itself after" Alcoholics Anonymous. Yeah. Because addiction to alcohol and living a Robert Palmer song from the '80s are the same thing. Give me a break. Let's all just keep coming up with addictions and disorders to excuse all behavioural excesses, shall we? Like, maybe I can watch all the hockey I want on television if I get a note from my doctor explaining that I'm addicted to hockey. Yeah, that'd fly.
You know, that's actually not bad. I'm think I'm going to try that, because…no. If I did that, my girlfriend would just find a medical justification for her Trading Spaces addiction, which is on television a hell of a lot more often than hockey is, even in Canada.
Kate seems to be taking this seriously, though, as now she's at the Sunset Lounge asking Victoria, "Do you think I'm a love addict?" and all Victoria can do is say, "Duh." Kate pretty much starts to lose it over that. "Of course you're a love addict! You're a matchmaker!" Kate's looking for stuff beyond that, so Victoria points out that Kate will drive halfway across town to check on a couple when a phone call would have sufficed, she gets overly involved in the dates to the point of dressing the women in her own clothes, and she uses the Sunset Lounge as her own personal Playboy Mansion, which I have to say would have been a pretty great episode. Kate's a little annoyed with Victoria by this point, and says she just makes an extra effort. So Victoria asks if Kate returned Amy's PDA. Kate's all, ohmigod! I forgot! "Case of the love addict closed," says Victoria triumphantly, but Kate denies that she still has the PDA because she's curious what's in there.
Kate's office. She's taking a test on the internet for "Love Addicts Anonymous." L.A.A.? Would the Los Angeles branch be L.A.L.A.A.? Because I really think I could get behind that. All I've found on the internet are groups that specify sex and love addictions together, but I guess Miss Match dropped the sex aspect to be, what, not so Montel Jordan? Anyway, knock yourself out. Kate's answering "yes" to kind of vague questions like whether she obsesses over love and whether she gets "high" from love. With each "yes" answer, Kate gets increasingly worried. It's exactly the opposite of the responses my friends and I would give when we'd be out drinking and see pamphlets to determine if we were problem drinkers. Every "yes" answer we'd give to questions like "Do you find yourself planning to get drunk?" and "Have you ever experienced memory loss due to drinking?" was usually greeted with whooping and hollering, and quite possibly high-fiving. But those were different times. It was the late '90s. And if they want us to take the Love Addicts Anonymous thing seriously, they should quit with the jaunty music they're playing here.
Kate's mulling over the "Do you find yourself obsessing over a specific person?" question when Amy's PDA starts ringing. She picks it up, and notices on the calendar a memo to "CALL STRIPPER." On the day that's listed as MMBDay! Gasp! Kate takes the PDA down the hall to Claire, with instructions to give it only to Amy when Amy comes by to pick it up, and not back to Kate under any circumstances. "What'd you do, look inside it?" Kate gets all indignant, what with Claire touching that nerve and all. "Contrary to popular opinion, I am not obsessed with everyone's love life!" says Kate. Claire's all, "Okay," while she tries to get back to work, which is a nice change of pace for her, but I imagine even Claire would want to get back to work, what with Kate babbling on about how she's establishing boundaries and separating her life from her work. Claire just says "okay" again, so Kate completely breaks down and confesses to looking in the PDA. "Way to hold up under pressure," says Nick, slapping her on the back as he walks in, even though he doesn't have any idea what she's talking about. "My sarcasm has carte blanche," he explains. Nothing's more appealing than someone who's always sarcastic! I -- wait a minute. That's me! She reminds him that they're meeting Julia Baxter after lunch. "Oh yeah, about that," he says. "Bad news."
Nick explains to Jerrold that they had a team of computer analysts go over Julia's husband's computer. "He wrote it after they were separated. We officially have no case," he says, and asks if they can settle now. Kate wants to try one more thing. Doesn't she always?
Julia's brought in her scrapbooks and wedding album, just like Kate asked her to. Nick wants to know what they're doing here, which is a question I really don't think a frothy NBC drama can answer. Kate says that all they have to do is establish that Julia gave her husband the exceptional love and support that enabled him to write the program. Julia shows off pictures of her "chocolate hazelnut truffle tower." Kate starts salivating, while Julia repeats what she said earlier about cooking being one of her finest qualities. I'm really enjoying the fact that neither of these people was employed, yet this woman is not only baking chocolate hazelnut truffle towers, she's TAKING PICTURES OF THEM and PUTTING THEM IN SCRAPBOOKS, like, how much do Americans get for welfare anyway? Nick's sitting there saying, "Settle, settle, settle," under his breath, while Julia's babbling on about how her husband didn't hate her cooking until she started having dinner parties, but it was the only way she could get him out of his office to socialize. That better be a home office. I hope the unemployed people weren't renting office space. Julia says she invited anyone to the dinner parties who she thought could help Craig. In fact, that's where he met the man who wound up buying his software program. Ding ding ding! "Congratulations, Julia! You made a match!" squeals Kate, like they're playing some stupid board game or something.
Kate's house. She and Victoria are enjoying Chinese food and reading out the fortunes. "Do not sleep in a eucalyptus tree tonight," reads Victoria. That's good advice. Because one time I…nah, I got nothin'. Kate reads one: "You will be married within the year." And within seconds, a Chinese culinary tradition has turned a nice meal into a grim contemplation of a future alone forever. "Let's get pizza time," says Kate. Victoria asks her how "the Michael" is, and Kate says she doesn't know, so Victoria reads another fortune. "You have a friend. She's holding out on you." Kate magically knows that the fortune doesn't actually say that, but admits it's true. Kate seems a little drunk. She admits to peeking into Amy's PDA. Victoria salutes her for fighting "the good fight," but demands to know what Kate found. Kate says Amy's getting Michael a stripper for his birthday. Yeah. Because Amy seems exactly that type. Kate leaps to conclusions like Mr. Roper. "Good for Michael!" says Victoria, but Kate is all yelling at the top of her lungs, "Not good for Michael!" and explains that he is "so not" a "stripper guy." She says Michael will hate it and Amy will be completely embarrassed and never forgive herself. She wants to call Amy and tell her to call it off. No, says Victoria. Well then, how about warning Michael? No! says Victoria. Kate reluctantly agrees to keep her distance. But her phone rings, and she checks the call display, and…it's Michael, calling to invite her to his birthday dinner tomorrow night. Kate takes the phone into her bedroom and giggles and burbles like a lovesick teenager and, after expressing some reluctance to attend, she's won over by Michael saying, "The birthday boy would really like it if you were there." He's about to hang up when he realizes that this is probably his last phone call of his twenties, like AS IF he didn't have that several years ago already. Kate says she's honoured. Michael says he's terrified. So they can't hang up; Michael says he's not quite ready to let go just yet. Kate doesn't say anything, but we can hardly blame her, what with her skull being crushed by that falling anvil. Michael finally says goodbye to the last phone call of his twenties. "Thanks, Kate." They hang up, Kate making an annoyed noise before going stomping back into the living room, where she announces to Victoria that she's going to Michael's birthday dinner tomorrow night. But it DOESN'T MEAN SHE'S A LOVE ADDICT, she insists.
Cut to the Love Addicts meeting, a surprisingly packed L.A.L.A.A. meeting, Kate sitting in the back, with a woman named Renee up at the front recounting how, when she was a newcomer to these meetings, she'd take guys into the bathroom afterwards. And I think if you're supposed to be getting better, you probably don't want to sound as gleeful as Renee does here as she tells her story. "I'm the reason we kept losing our bathroom privileges. Sorry about that! I couldn't control myself knowing all you men were love addicts like me. It was dark, and public spaces make me hot." It's when she mentions the "crotchless panties" -- no word of a lie -- the moderator or facilitator or activities director or whatever the hell he is reins her in. He asks the crowd if anybody else needs to "get current" before they focus on steps. A young guy with scruffy hair and a beard gets up and shuffles to the front. Kate's shocked when he turns around and she sees it's Jared. So shocked, she doesn't even say, "Hi, Jared!" like everybody else does when Jared introduces himself. She's much too shocked. You know, perhaps sending a client on a date with a random stranger she'd talked to for all of about two minutes wasn't such a good idea. Commercials.
We get to see Fox Daddy's house for the first time. It's right on the beach, making me question again why I didn't go to law school. He's working away on his laptop when the doorbell rings. It's Sandy. "What took you so long?" he asks. "I'm worth the wait," she says, which I might mention doesn't answer the question. "I'll be the judge of that," he says, like WE ALL KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING, CAN WE SPEED IT UP, PLEASE. "Shall we go to work then?" he says. "Yes. Let's start billing," she says, which turns the both of them on so much that they start making out right there.
Back at L.A.L.A.A., Jared is explaining that he believes in love at first sight, seeing as how he's experienced it about twenty times himself. He's proposed five times and actually been engaged twice -- both times he's called it off at the last second. Kate goes on and on making her Shocked Face. "It's been seven months since my last relationship," and everyone dutifully claps, and the director or whatever gets a seven-month pin for Jared. Save it, says Jared. "I met someone. But this time it's different. She's like an ice pick" -- Kate cranks the Shocked Face up to 11 -- "that broke the frozen sea inside me." "That's what you say every time, Jared," says the disappointed Pin Dude. "Is it really? I mean, not every time?" says Jared. "Every time," says Pin Dude, dramatically dropping the pin back in the box. Maybe, since this is a support group, this guy should be acting more supportive instead of disappointed here. I'm just sayin'. Then we get a weird shot of some weird guy with long hair and a chin beard crowding Kate as he cranes his neck to get a better view of the sad human drama unfolding up there.
After the meeting, Jared is having an inordinate amount of difficulty with the coffeepot when Kate confronts him. They both ask each other what they're doing there, with Jared asserting that it's his meeting. He wants to know if she's spying on him. Kate says she isn't, but he might have mentioned his love addiction when she was setting him up with Rachel, who Jared says doesn't know. "And you can't tell her, either. It's confidential!" "I'm not going to," says Kate. "But don't you think you should?" He says he's never told anyone about his addiction, which Kate seizes on as proof that Rachel isn't any different than his other vict-- er, "girlfriends." Jared insists that she is, but Kate wants him to explain how he knows. So he starts off with love being magic you can see and light you can hold, and other such nonsense. "It shouldn't be possible, but it is," he says, whatever that's supposed to mean, and adds, "I can't risk losing that." "Telling her the truth is a risk you have to take!" insists Kate. "Being in love is a giant risk. That's what makes it love!" The guy who was crowding Kate earlier has heard all of this, and gives Kate the Devil's Horns of Approval. "Or something," says Kate. Jared hems and haws before finally agreeing to tell Rachel about his addiction. Good deed done, Kate smiles and strolls away, but Jared stops her. "Let me know if you ever need a sponsor," he says, but she just smiles.
Back at Fox Daddy's House of Ethical Transgressions, Jerrold and Sandy are dancing and drinking and wondering how they ever let each other get away. And I'm way too shocked at the two of them making out and working out the settlement. I didn't even have to go to law school to know how wrong this is.
The morning, Kate freaks out. "Told you she'd freak out," says Nick. Kate insists that she is not freaking out, and they will know when she is in fact freaking out. Jerrold tries to defend the settlement. "Our client is thrilled!" he says, although they haven't yet told us what the terms are. Kate wants to know exactly when it was between 8 PM last night and 10 AM this morning that he and Sandy reached the agreement, and why Kate wasn't consulted, since she's been working her butt off trying to build a case for Julia. "It sounds like your dad was working his butt off too," says Nick. Hee. Jerrold's proud that he settled for $500,000 plus the house, but Kate says the $500,000 is one tenth of what Julia deserves, which Jerrold can't see because Sandy's "thrown sand in [his] eyes once again!" They named her Sandy just so Kate could say that? Hope it was worth it. Jerrold says that despite all the work Kate did, the case is not a slam-dunk, but $500,000 in cash is as real as it gets. "Why are you choosing Sandy?" says Kate. "I'm not choosing Sandy over you," he says, but Kate says, "Not over me. Over our client." Jerrold has no answer. "Settlement conference is at three," he says, and walks out. Nick cheerfully says that he thought she'd built a very strong case. "You could have told him that!" she snaps.
We're back at Elixir, which is I guess Rachel and Jared's "place" now, and she's outlining wedding suggestions, such as having the wedding in a winery or the Getty Museum. "I'm not feeling very well," he announces, so she suggests a "ginseng sling," which he doesn't think will help. "I have something awful to tell you," he says. "What, are you married?" Nope. "Do you have a terminal illness?" Nope. "Wouldn't that be romantic, though? We could overcome it together, just like our own little Love Story." You know, I'd been wondering how long it was going to take before they gave a little shout-out to Ryan O'Neal's most well-known piece of work (other than Tatum). So Jared just finally comes out and says he doesn't think he loves Rachel, even though he thought he did and even though he wants to. She wants to know what she did; he assures her that it was nothing she did, because she's perfect, and he won't let her "waste that" on him. You know, what with her never having been in love, one bonus is that, never having heard the "it's not you, it's me" speech, she might be able to actually believe it, as all of us do the first time (if not the second or the third or the fourteenth). "I don't understand," she says. "Rachel, I'm a love addict," he says, explaining that he falls in love with falling in love. "What about me?" she says. Selfish! "What did I feel?" "I don't know. Hope, maybe?" Rachel's all, maybe. THANKS FOR CRUSHING THAT, THEN. Then Jared says, "I love you," which will surely help matters, and he gets confused and runs off. This is just like the first time I said that!
Back at Kate's office, Kate is taking precious time away from her busy schedule to console Rachel and assure her that she did nothing wrong. Kate says she's taking full responsibility and refunding Rachel's friend's money, which surprises Rachel, who's not completely unhappy with how things turned out. After all, she did feel something and took a chance on love. "Yeah, but he made you feel bad. That's not what we were going for," says Kate. "I can't imagine all the opportunities I've missed because I was afraid," she says. Kate smiles, knowing she doesn't have to return the $1,000.
Settlement conference. Kate tells her dad that she wants to talk to Julia. After warning her that it's a done deal, Jerrold agrees, so Kate pulls Julia aside. Sandy wants to know what Jerrold's up to, and he just comes back with, "Wouldn't you like to know." Kate tells Julia that although the settlement looks good, she's shortchanging herself. "You settled for a bad marriage, you settled for a lousy husband. You can't keep settling. You're worth more than this! But you're never going to know that unless you take a risk. But you gotta take a risk." Julia says okay, so Kate announces that there will be no settlement today. Sandy's all, that's very cute and all, sweetie, but you're not lead counsel, so stick it. "She is now," says Jerrold. If Sandy were drinking right now, you'd see the best spit-take! She can't believe Jerrold's going along with this, so he blah-blahs about how Kate is just looking out for the best interests of her client. "We'll see you in court," snaps Sandy, and she stomps on out of there. Perhaps lamenting losing some primo Knots Landing tail, Jerrold tells Kate this better be good.
For a guy who seemed so concerned about turning thirty, Michael certainly has no shame tearing into his birthday presents, which Amy notes with mock chagrin. "I have no shame," says Michael, as he shakes the hand of some dude whose gift he just opened. Who's ? It's Amy's gift -- it's on the table behind them, and it's quite tall. "What is it?" says the dude from a moment ago, like, HE'S ABOUT TO OPEN IT, SO WHY DON'T YOU SHUT IT, and I don't understand why this nobody was even given a line. Anyway, Michael lifts the box off the gift, which is a scale model of the Chrysler building, like, maybe the shrink can have a go at Amy's obsession with phallic symbols. Some other nobody comments that "they're so great together!" to Kate, who I'm sure gets it. Any more gifts? asks Michael, all greedy. Kate has one, but she warns that it's pretty small. Michael's thrilled because it's a signed Ernie Banks baseball card, which could have conceivably set Kate back a pretty penny, but he's Michael's all-time favourite player. Michael's blown away, since he doesn't remember ever telling her that. "You must have," says Kate, and meanwhile Amy starts looking awfully awkward. She starts wondering where the champagne is that she ordered, and wanders off to check on it.
Kate follows her and, totally ignoring what's obviously wrong with Amy, jokingly says that she thinks she saw that Michael guy checking her out. Amy smiles but doesn't say anything, so Kate tries again by telling her she looks terrific. After a pause, Amy says, "Kate, I don't know how you work, but Michael and I need to be on our own now." "Of course!" says Kate, a little too brightly. "I'll never forget what you did; you were amazing to me, so I don't really know how to say this, but I don't need you to be involved anymore." "Amy, Michael invited me," says Kate. "It's not just tonight, Kate. You know that. I can take it from here." Kate pretends like this is no big deal and tells Amy to take it away, then adds that she should also lose the stripper she hired for Michael. Amy's all, what? I didn't hire a stripper for Michael! Uh-oh. Amy says, "I did hire a wood stripper for my living room. He came this morning." Then it dawns on her. "Did you look at my handheld?" Kate lies at first, and then tries to excuse herself by saying that the thing started beeping and she was just trying to shut it off. Now Amy's pissed. You do not want to piss off a classics professor, I'll tell you what. She says Kate's really crossed a line, then, fuming, goes back to the party. Kate strolls back too, putting on a happy face, to tell Michael that she has court in the morning so she's got to go. Amy, who's managed to start laughing since she got back to the table, can barely conceal the stink-eye she's shooting Kate's way. Kate walks out of the restaurant. Where's she going to get her love fix now? Commercials.
In court, Craig is testifying that he worked sixteen-hour days, seven days a week. "Julia knew that," he said. But he was unemployed, right? I'm not sure I get this. If he wasn't working on that program, what was he working on? Sandy asks if Julia ever tried to pry him away from his work. And Craig starts talking about all the evil insidious things his wife did to try to get his attention, like having dinner parties and hiding his laptop. This Craig guy is truly odious, I have to say. Sandy establishes that Julia didn't even know how to turn on a computer, and that Craig did absolutely nothing to develop his $10-million computer program while he was married to her. Sandy turns the witness over to Kate, who stands up and promptly asks, "Who'd you lose your virginity to?" Sandy steps up. "Objection, for numerous reasons!" "Are you going somewhere with this?" asks the judge. "I promise," says Kate. "She promises," the judge announces, and shrugs. "I'll bite." Yeah, we believe you're a real judge, lady. Kate repeats her question, and Craig says he lost his virginity to Julia. And Kate keeps asking questions, in each case the answer being Julia. Who'd you buy your first house with? Who cooked every meal for you? Who introduced you to Harold Kahn, the man who bought your computer program? Craig says he doesn't remember, so Kate says she'll give him a hint. She submits as Exhibit A a guest list for one of his wife's dinner parties (with Jerrold whispering, "Go get 'im!"). Now does he remember meeting Harold there? Craig reluctantly admits it. Kate asks if it wasn't true that Harold was in fact going to leave early because he couldn't eat the filet mignon with porcini mushroom demi-glaze his wife was serving, which I understand is common fare in households where neither person is BRINGING HOME A PAYCHEQUE. Craig admits that is true, as well as the fact that Julia left the dinner party to buy a half-pound filet of tilapia, baked it in a light curry sauce, and served it on a bed of butternut squash risotto, in order to get Harold to stay. "After dinner, what did you and Mr. Kahn talk about?" "This and that…ideas…" says Craig. "Ideas for what? And remember you're under oath," says Kate pleasantly. Craig gives up, in the face of such relentless pressure. Such sweet, personable pressure! "Ideas for…my software program," he admits. It's not exactly Colonel Jessup admitting he ordered the Code Red, I have to say. Sandy looks pissed, and Nick and Jerrold look quite pleased. "Did it ever occur to you that your wife was doing this because she loved you and because she wanted to support your career?" Sandy objects. "Calls for speculation!" she says. Too little too late, counselor, but Kate withdraws the question nonetheless. "Good, 'cause you made me hungry," says the judge, who adjourns court and says they'll reconvene in the afternoon.
In a coffee shop, Kate's meeting with Rachel, asking her if she's sure she wants to "get back out there." Rachel says she's sure, so Kate starts describing "Tim," who's thirty-five, looks like a Kennedy (kind of range, there, isn't it? What if he looks like Teddy?), and is a philanthropist. Rachel nixes that idea, so Kate tries again: "How about a Fulbright scholar who teaches economics at inner-city schools?" Rachel says no to that one too, since she wants to meet someone who's exactly like Jared, only not a love addict. Kate's all, yeah, that's a GREAT idea. But wouldn't you like to meet different kinds of people? Rachel's all, nope! I stopped eating Tubby Hubby after I met Jared (wow -- what is it, three whole days ago? Now that's willpower!). "I stopped craving it; he was all I needed. But now I feel like eating pint after pint after pint," she says. Kate gives her a little nutrition lesson on how most high-density ice creams contain high-fructose corn syrup. "Is that supposed to help?" asks Rachel. Kate says it means that she can eat as much as she wants and she'll never feel full; that's why it's so addictive and why you're always "jonesing for a fix." I'm not sure how much more of this addiction talk I can take; we're talking clinical terms here, so I'm not sure that equating life-threatening dependencies on debilitating substances like alcohol and heroin with playing too much smoochy-face and porking out on ice cream is entirely appropriate. "So, I'm addicted to ice cream?" "We're all addicted to something," says Kate. Since that makes no sense, Rachel wonders what she should do.
The judge is reading her verdict in the case of Baxter vs. Baxter. No surprise here -- she finds in favour of Ms. Baxter, who I've just now noticed looks kind of a like a female Ed Grimley. "I said all along she had a case," says Nick. Then the judge calls Kate up to the bench. To commend her handling of the case? To compliment her questioning technique? No. To get the tilapia recipe. Damn. Everyone knows that finding in favour of someone just to score some good recipes is grounds for appeal. Ms. Baxter's not going to see dollar one of her settlement.
Outside the courtroom, Sandy calls Jerrold a "sly" one, and I'm trying to figure out what's so sly about having a well-prepared case and, you know, the law on your side. Jerrold considers "sly" a compliment, though, only to find out that Sandy wasn't complimenting his mad legal skillz as much as those of his "secret weapon." Jerrold says Sandy should have been nicer to Kate when she was twelve. Sandy smirks and sashays over to Kate. "You're good," she says, adding that Kate reminds her of a "slightly" younger version of herself, and I can't find it in my dictionary where it defines "slightly" as "actually, much." She says if Kate ever gets tired of working for her old man, she should give Sandy a call. I'm sure if Kate wants to learn how to screw opposing counsel to wrangle a great deal for your client, she just might take her up on that. Kate apologizes for being a brat when Sandy was dating Kate's dad. "I just didn't want to lose him," says Kate. "Neither did I," says Sandy, before strolling away to make more great movies like Scandalous Me: The Jacqueline Susann Story and Big Dreams & Broken Hearts: The Dottie West Story. Is she going to have a regular gig on this show? Because in the race of Actresses Who Daniel Wants Back On Miss Match Anytime Soon, Michele Lee is about eight miles behind Charisma Carpenter.
Jerrold wanders over to find out what that was all about, and Kate laughs and says nothing. Daddy compliments Kate's work, and she says, "I learned from the best." Jerrold says, "No, I couldn't have done it," which is awfully presumptuous, if you ask me. "I wasn't thinking straight. Love got the best of me," and Kate's all, "'Love'?" and Dad's all, whatever, and they talk about having a conversation, and then they discuss the mechanics of actually having a conversation, and I don't mean they set a time to sit down and talk; Kate explains that the way conversations work is, one person says something and then the other person does, and…yeah. I don't really need to get into this whole thing, do I? They walk off down the hall, having shared yet another moment where Daddy learns a thing or two from his daughter, who's all grown up and not Daddy's little girl anymore. Sigh.
Back at the bookstore. Jared's warning someone away from a Clive Barker and pointing them to Camus, since it's obviously "paranoid revenge fantasy" he's after, and it always kills me when Harvard-trained television writers drop references to high-brow work on their programs so they don't feel like such hacks for working on light television dramedy, only they have to do it explicitly, and they might as well pop up on screen and say, "I know I'm writing Miss Match, but I've read Camus and Kafka! And you can tell because I just mentioned them on my show!" Speaking of Kafka, Jared scurries away like a cockroach when Rachel rolls up and yells, "I love you!" And thank god Jared is addicted only to love, because if he were an actual junkie, I'd hate to think that Rachel would come wandering in with a syringe and a length of rubber hose. "I love you violently. I love you hopelessly. And I never thought I could love at all. So even if you don't love me, after a first date that lasted almost two days, after we've been engaged, broken off the engagement and you've confessed to being part of a twelve-step program, maybe we could at least go out on a second date." He smiles. "You had me at 'violently,'" he says. Okay, he doesn't. He does quietly say, "Can we, um, can we take it slow?" Rachel smiles. "I know I love you. Now I'd love to get to know you." "That's so romantic," says Jared. And they start doing it right there.
Kate comes home to a mysterious box on her front step, which she doesn't even open before she goes inside. She starts playing her phone messages, and the first one is from Michael, saying it was too bad she had to leave early the other night, because she missed the birthday cake. And the bar played lots of Thin Lizzy! Inside the box, a piece of said birthday cake. "I'm guessing you like lots of icing," says Michael's message, while Kate makes tortured faces, which only become more agonizing as Michael thanks Kate for bringing Amy into his life. "It's amazing what you do for people. For me. Okay, I'm officially rambling. Bye." Kate steels herself and then takes that Your Boundaries, Your Life book that was such a major plot point and which SHE DIDN'T EVEN READ, tosses it into the trash, and tears into the cake.