The show opens with a view of a televised hockey game, and it looks as though Chicago is playing the Blue Jackets. The camera pans back as a player zooms toward the net, and we can hear a man's voice shouting, "Oh...yes yes yes yes yes!" as the puck finds its home just as the buzzer sounds. The voice belongs to Rick. A hockey fan? He just scored some points with my Canadian ass. Lily observes, "Men always sound like they're having sex when they watch sports." She took the words right out of my mouth. She flicks a kernel of popcorn at Rick and quips, "Slap shot!" Rick tugs at her arm, pulling her onto the couch with him, and Lily tells him to stop distracting her -- she has work to do. He gamely agrees and offers to leave. She begs him not to, but he insists that he, too, has work to do, and that he has to do it on his computer. They banter a bit and that, of course, segues into canoodling. Mercifully, the grope fest is short-lived, as Rick gets hold of himself and asks, "Okay, so who's winning as we enter the second period: Christy or Graham?" Oh, I wish he hadn't couched that in hockey terms. Anyway, Lily answers that it's odd to see Crusty behaving so oddly, "totally contorting herself." What, did Crusty join the circus? She'd make one bad-ass scary clown. But no; Lily's referring to her paranoia about Graham and her fear that he may actually be right at times. She says that Graham just tries to be "so cool, like there's not a pit bull clamped to his hand, slowly tearing it off." Crusty as a pit bull? It works, doesn't it? Rick says that guys always try to play it cool, just as he tosses popcorn at his mouth and misses. Lily informs him that he and Graham have nothing in common, and Rick, suddenly ten, retorts that they both like her. Lily argues that Graham doesn't like her, and those sound like famous last words to me. Rick insists that he has to leave immediately or he never will. Lily pulls him backward, plants a kiss on him, and then hoofs him in the ass, telling him to get out of there.
Jessie, dressed in a schmancy little black dress, falls face-first onto Karen's bed with a killer sigh. Karen begs, "Help me out here. I can't tell you you look beautiful, because as your mother, I have zero credibility here." Jessie tells her that she can say whatever she wants, as long as she doesn't say "looks don't count." Karen claims that she was only going to say that some of the girls are going as a group. Jessie says, "That's okay. I'm not." I'm guessing she doesn't have a date for whatever thing they're referring to. Karen lays into the guilt saying that a while ago, Jessie said she might want to go, and Karen took her out and got a dress that she thought Jessie liked. Jessie's immune to the guilt trip, though, because the humiliation of going somewhere solo far outweighs any emotional manipulation her mother can pull off. She says she changed her mind and asks if that's allowed. Wearily, Karen agrees that it is. Jessie hops off the bed and announces that she'll start her homework, then.
A pair of masculine boots appear outside the bedroom door, and Leo goofily calls out, "I hear gorgeous women!" Jessie almost runs into him, and when he sees her all decked out, he is inspired to launch into a really white imitation of a funky soul brother, exclaiming, "Whoa! Jump back, kiss myself, wow!" The last bit sounds like something James Brown coughed up in the shower. But he really is sweet, and I'm sure he intended to sound like an ass. He informs Jessie that she's "going to break some serious hearts," and that "guys are going to be standing in line and then falling down." Jessie quietly says that she's not going. "Oh," Leo answers, trying not to sound surprised and adding, "Does that mean we get to go to the game on Saturday, you and me?" He puts his hand behind his ass for a low-five as Jessie walks past. When Jessie's gone, Karen starts cleaning up the dress box and mutters about Jessie's being so unsure of herself. Leo muses, "Aren't they all at that age?" He brushes the hair from Karen's neck and starts laying down the smooches. "Leo," Karen groans. "I know," he answers. "No, you don't," she insists. In his best drill-sergeant voice, Leo demonstrates that he does know: "No sex when the children are at home." Karen's ass pole springs to attention, sensing that it'll have cause to spin any minute now. Leo tries to charm the ass pole with a little humor, saying that "lasciviously biting [her] neck isn't having sex. It's punishing [her] for not having sex." It's no use. The ass pole has started twirling like a ballerina with alligator skin, and Karen squirms uncomfortably on the bed. Leo says he was just joking. Talk to the pole, buddy. She irritably insists that he wasn't joking. Leo, getting fed up, points out that they have the same argument all the time and asks whether they may have a new one, please. "We have the same argument all the time because you can't seem to hear me," Karen schoolmarms. "Or you think I'm going to change, and that is just not going to happen." Leo takes a moment and prudently decides to switch gears. "It's just that you're so incredibly beautiful," he smarms. Karen softens, a little uncertainly.
"I don't see where you're going with this, Christy," Graham says, with an edge in his voice. It's the morning, and we're joining a meeting already in progress in Crusty's office. "Because I haven't gotten there," she snarks in a light-hearted tone. She's sporting a pleather blazer in a reptilian print. Isn't that almost cannibalistic? Plus, it's annoyingly shiny. Anyway, she goes on to inform Graham that restaurant reviews are the mainstay of the magazine. He counters that no one reads them. She claims he doesn't know that. He insists the research shows it. As the camera follows Graham pacing around Crusty's desk, we see that Lily is seated across from the boss lady, looking a little uncomfortable. She makes pacifying sounds, but Crusty just barrels ahead, saying that Graham wants a "revenue stream" and she's trying to deliver one, "believe it or not." I'd go with the latter, given her behavior thus far. Anyway, Graham snides, "I'm thrilled. Continue." He takes up a post against the wall, arms crossed judgmentally. Crusty pitches some idea about having a review-writing contest "to lure people into the restaurants [they] advertise." She says the reviews will not only describe what people ate, but also the "experience" they had at the restaurant, "like an anniversary dinner where the couple broke up." 'Cause who wouldn't want to share their heartache and humiliation along with a rave about the seafood risotto? Graham questions whether the restaurants would go for it, and Crusty smugly assures him that they would "love it."