Nick makes a sandwich as Jessica looks at Maltese dogs on the exact same 12-inch PowerBook G4 I'm typing on right now. The fact that we own the same computer makes me a little sad. The fact that I'm watching the show on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon makes me a little sad as well. As they talk, Nick looks down as he realizes the bread has a gigantic green smear of mold on it. Jessica tells him to spit it out. Nick spits it out. Jessica says she can't believe he actually made the sandwich without seeing the mold and Nick, who stands by the sink making retching noises, says, "I already ate one." Jessica looks up, shocked. "Uh-uh!" she says, disbelieving. "Ugh," says Nick. Ha.
Credits. Song. Only place Nick's singing is heard anymore aside from the shower and the bargain bin. This I Swear.
Los Angeles. Hollywood. Night. Black Escalade. Jessica and friends arrive at Mama Simpson's house, and Jessica is excited because she gets to see Maggie, the dog. They open the door, and Jessica starts spazzing out, and the tiny little white shitty dog Mama Simpson holds starts writhing around and yipping and I seriously don't understand how that's a dog. A friend of mine who has two giant dogs he rescued from the pound, dogs he loves more than anything on this planet -- his girlfriend's sister recently surprised them with a Chihuahua puppy from a breeder. So now my proud dog-owning masculine friend has to walk his two big butch dogs, and a tiny Chihuahua puppy named Zazu. I've never seen him so sad and embarrassed. My plan is late at night to come over to his house and put a "I [Heart] My Chihuahua" bumper sticker on his pick-up truck, but I think he might seriously flip out if I did that. Jessica camera-talks about how she doesn't want a big slobbery dog, and Nick doesn't want one she can put in her purse, which is all she wants. Mama Simpson says that you can't really "love on" little dogs, and Jessica immediately counters that big dogs have giant tongues and she'll kiss Maggie's tongue any day. And then she does, and the dog sticks its tiny little alien tongue out -- its desperate, over-bred, nervous, flawed, shaky, genetically weak tongue. Just like Jessica's.
Back at Sagebrush Cantina, Nick and Drew talk about how if Jessica gets a big dog, it'll make her feel more comfortable and safe at home alone. Nick says that if she doesn't stay at the house, she'll have to take the dog with her. Is he already foreseeing the day when she leaves him? Or is he subtly reminding Drew that she's the one with the career, so he'll be the one to stay home alone feeling vulnerable and insecure? Drew says that if they get a "hound" it'll be at his house more than anywhere else, and Nick then says if they go on tour together they can bring it on the bus and they joke how the bus driver will like that, and it's just like watching a production of The Ice Man Cometh, with all the sad drunks sitting around spinning yarns of what they'll do someday when they actually get off the bar stool -- the pipe dreams of future happiness and love and success. It's okay to admit it, Nick, you're never be going on tour again, unless it's a "What Ever Happened To?" tour of racetracks and state fairs in about twenty years. Drew says dogs shed. Thanks for helping, asshole. Nick says that when he gets back from "The Sugar Bowl" (sure, Nick, whatever), that's his step, getting a dog. He just has to keep Jessica sold on the Husky idea. ("Of course you will, pal. Would you like another scotch and water? Oh look, here comes a guy with a wagon full of ice.")
New Orleans. Nick voice-overs that they're going to the Sugar Bowl, and Nick then makes me almost cry by saying how "exciting" it is…that Jessica will be singing the national anthem. Not him. Not ever Nick.
Limo. There's a big cockroach in the car. Jessica hops into Nick's lap, and they all laugh and joke and the driver finally gets out and scoops it out of the car. Jessica talks about the "luxurious" limo with "coke-a-rotches." Everyone laughs. MTV's Marketing Department goes into high gear, test-marketing "coke-a-rotches" hats, and they call Oprah to see if she thinks that's funny enough to book Nick and Jessica again (well, just Jessica this time), and the record company immediately hires Joseph Kahn to shoot a video with Jessica surrounded by hundred of "coke-a-rotches." Jessica makes a cell call to her hairstylist. Afterwards, Nick tries to give her something to read, and she snaps at him, "Not right now!" Whoa. Jessica explains that her stylist's plane reservation was cancelled and they're trying to find him a private jet and he's going to try to make it happen. Then she's crying. Crying on the phone to Mama Simpson about how the stylist is still in Vegas. Nick says that it's too late and he's not going to get here in time and she better get used to the idea of doing it herself and "it'll be great." Wow. I'm surprised she doesn't punch him. Instead, she sobs into the phone to Mommy, "I don't want to pull it back like that." Sniffle. Sniffle. Nick looks out the window, waiting for the limo to stop long enough so he can jump out. But then he thinks of the low number of digits in his savings account and realizes he can never jump. He'll never jump, until the day comes that she pushes him out. Finally she hangs up and Nick tries to talk her down and she says, "I'm just hurt." She's personally hurt because her stylist got stuck in another state? Wow. Girl must have never been really hurt by anyone. Nick goes on to say that the stylist, whose name they keep bleeping out, doesn't make her look beautiful. She's beautiful. And she can do her own hair and still look beautiful. Eh, probably not, but nice try.
Hotel room. Everyone is moping around, and Jessica says that Karen is coming over and she'll make everything better, and Karen arrives and they hug like someone has died. Karen says, "It is what it is and we're going to make it amazing." It looks like Karen is drinking a White Russian. Go Karen, with your drunky self. She says they'll call wig shops and that they have lots of time.
Wig-shopping montage. Karen and Nick and Bouncer and Creepy Pa Simpson go around looking for "long blonde extensions." They go from store to store as some shitty Shakira song plays. (They can just get some extensions from her! It's not like she's using them these days.) Shopping. Shopping. Shakira screeches. They finally find something. I'm so relieved. I was biting my nails there for a minute.
Hotel room. Jessica pokes herself in the eye with her hairbrush. Not kidding. Jessica then drops the curling iron. Nick sits by, waiting. Always waiting.
Sugar Bowl. Backstage. Nick and Jessica and crew walk. People shout, "We love you!" They cut out the drunk fans shouting, "Fuck you, bitch!" and "Nick, you're a pussy whipped fool!" Nick then hands Jessica the mic. Ha. She's wearing a baby-puke green yak and twig-leg jeans, and she sings a horrible rendition, as kids stand around her holding up squares of reflecting material that may or may not be vinyl copies of Nick's last album that they're selling for a buck a pop. Nick watches, love in his eyes. Man, that must be some good pussy. Jessica finishes insulting our country and people applaud and commercials.
Back. L.A. House. Day. Nick pours coffee. Jessica sourly voice-overs that today they have Nick's dream dog coming over -- the dog he had when he was a kid -- Huskies. She immediately steps on his shit by bratting that Huskies get really big. Nick tells her she's a goddamn liar. Jessica then tries to make pancakes. She hurts herself with the pot drawer and then almost drops the pan and somehow it hurts her ear and she swears and looks at Nick but he doesn't respond; she keeps going when she gets nothing from him, but he just keeps talking on the phone. She burns the first pancake and then the second and she's totally using the wrong kind of pan. She throws another pancake away. The Huskies arrive! Nick is all psyched. Jessica finally realizes that making the pancakes was a bad idea.
Nick calls Jessica over -- he thinks the dog people are here. A nice couple walk to the door carrying two beautiful Husky puppies. Nick sees them and his face lights up and he makes a squealing noise. He invites them in and they meet the two puppies, Ponderosa and Conifer. (Bad names.) The lady says they were born on the floor of the Downey shelter. Jessica says they smell good and that they're beautiful. Wow. She's warming. Unbelievable. They cost $250 -- for an adoption fee. The lady asks Nick why they want a Husky, and he says that as a kid he had a Husky/Collie mix and it was a great dog. Jessica immediately asks how big they'll get, and the woman says the girl will be fifty pounds, the boy seventy. Nick and Jessica are each holding one and they're so placid and gorgeous (the dogs, not Nick and Jessica). They take the dogs outside, and the one doesn't want to leave Nick's arms but then they start playing. They almost eat a toxic palm plant. But they don't die, and they run off and spazz around, being cute. The lady asks if they'll have a caretaker or if they want a dog that can come with them -- they say that's what they're trying to figure out right now. Nick and Jessica whisper about which they like better, and Nick likes the boy and Jessica likes the girl, because she wants a dog to be prissy and cuddly. Just like Nick. They kiss the dogs goodbye, and the puppy tries to scratch Jessica's face off. Hee. Good dog. The dog people say they'd be willing to give D & D a day or two to decide, and they leave. Nick immediately makes a groaning sad noise as the dogs leave.
Inside, Jessica says the dogs were really pretty but she thinks they're high maintenance. Hi, kettle. This is the pot. You're black. Jessica says they'll be big, and Nick says they already decided on the smaller girl dog and she laughs that the girl will be sixty pounds. What a bitch. She's already lying and rounding up on the figures, trying to talk him out of what he wants. Nick sits on the counter of the kitchen. She says he looks sad. He says he had to give his dog away as a kid. She asks if he's going to cry, then laughs at him and looks around to the camera crew. She doesn't hug him or anything. She says now she understands where this is all coming from -- that he had to get rid of his Husky for a little dog when he was a kid. Basically, she's dismissing all of his dreams and desires. You selfish, selfish girl. He says they could get two dogs, one for him and one for her. She wonders if they'd get along, and he says that if you bring them up together, it'll be fine. They'll build camaraderie. "Camaraderie?" says Jessica. She doesn't think it's the right word. Jessica says that camaraderie is not the right word, that it doesn't mean that. She thinks it means "attention." Lord. Then again, I'm pretty sure every word in her mind means attention. As in, pay attention to Jessica. Look at Jessica. Give Jessica some camaraderie. She thought "camaraderie" meant "accolade." She eventually gives up. Wow, you know it's bad when you start saying to yourself mid-sentence, "Man, I really am pretty fucking stupid." Commercials.
Back. Sunset Blvd. Driving. Jessica says that she'd like a small dog she can tote around with her, and now that they're home for a while it'll be nice to have a dog -- much nicer than having a baby, right now. What? As if when she has a baby she'll be the one to take care of it for a single second. Nick asks if Jessica wants a small dog who acts like a priss. Jessica says she likes cute dogs. Nick says big dogs are cute too. Jessica says that they have "big poop." So does she, but he's not kicking her out. She says she'd rather pick up a little pebble than a big turd. She says, "I just can't see myself picking up a big turd." Nick responds, "I can't see you picking up anything." Ooooooooh! Burn! She gives him the stink-eye.
They arrive in the middle of nowhere at some crappy little apartment, where a creepy guy named Doug sits with his daughters and their shitty little Maltese mop dogs. Inside his sad, tacky little apartment, Doug asks what they thought of the Huskies. Doug immediately says, "They're Eskimo dogs. They shed. Malteses don't shed." Dick. What a dick. Jessica has the nerve to agree with him, as they watch this tiny little dog in a leopard print sweater act a fool. Doug says he has a seven-month-old he was going to show, but it didn't get big enough, and some puppies as well. I think breeders are so sleazy. One of Doug's poor daughters brings in the seven-month-old, and Jessica squeals, and Doug says, "It's not a Husky," and they all laugh at that. Jessica says she wants to put bows in her hair, and Doug says, "You can put bows in her hair. We do." I'm sure Doug puts lots of stuff in his dogs' hair. They pan to Nick, rubbing his face. Ha. Jessica says this is the cutest puppy she's ever seen. Nick asks how much they are, and Doug says that the little boy is $2000 and the girl is $2500. Holy shit! That's ridiculous. "You would make me so happy!" says Jessica, holding up the dog. No, Jessica, nothing would make you happy. That's the function of being a spoiled brat. You are only happy momentarily, while all eyes are on you and you're getting your way and getting a reaction out of people. That's all you love -- camaraderie. Also, the Huskies made Nick incredibly happy, and Jessica laughed at him. Jessica says something, and Nick says, "No." Nick asks the names and Doug says, I hope kidding -- and even then it's not a very good joke -- that they're named "Tuition" and "Mortgage." Doug goes on to say they don't shed and get a whole new coat all the time, "like, say, a Husky or a lab." I would punch Doug in the face. Nick grits his teeth. "Are we doing this?" asks Doug, as Nick gets up and starts to leave. Nick says he'll call him in, like, ten minutes.
So outside, they're all standing around, as well as Doug and his scared daughters, who are holding up little signs that say, "Help. Take us with you!" Nick says it would be a good exercise in responsibility for Jessica. She looks offended. He "dares" her to get the dog, and says if she wants to do it, he'll be totally behind her. She goes on that she wants him to want the dog and love the dog. He says it's not like getting a kid. Jessica then says that he talked so down on Malteses and she would feel bad if they ended up getting one. And Nick then -- using all the courage in the world, God love him -- says, "Well, good. I don't want to make you feel bad. Let's go," and he gets into the car. Ha! Jessica groans, and she and her friends get in the car. They watch Doug and crew standing around. Nick, because he's a good guy, gives Jessica one more chance, but she's sure, and Nick hauls ass out of there. Doug takes his kids inside and beats the dogs for not making the sale, forcing his daughters to watch. (Kidding! Don't sue me.)
Night. Mall dog store. They look at poor puppy mill puppies, watching and laughing. One of the dogs is eating its own poop. Jessica says she's going to puke. They start to go, and Jessica keeps talking about it. "I don't want a dog anymore," Jessica says. Ha.
time on. Jessica talks with a friend about an upcoming ski trip; she doesn't have ski clothes. "Nick's horrible," she says. Then out at dinner, Nick says that this is the trip where it's all going to make sense to him -- he's got a newfound clarity about skiing. Everyone looks skeptical. CUT TO: Mountain. Nick skis terribly as Jessica tries to talk him through it. Then he falls and throws his poles and take his skis off, done. "I have no desire to do this," he says, frustrated. Ha. And that's it. See ya!