In Place Of Anger

Fade up on a yacht, cruising through the polluted waters of L.A. harbor. There's some blah blah babblecakes from a pair of extras standing on the upper deck of the S.S. Andrea Boria, and then some random drunken guy appears. He bitches about corporate downsizing for way longer than I care to listen, and then falls over the railing to his death. Since this scene featured no gags, no gimmicks, and bore (get it?) a disturbing resemblance to a death scene fromDawson's Creek, I think the less said about it, the better. Farewell, Matthew Heath Collins. time, try beating the writers.

It's morning in Brenda's Fianc-Fucking Family Room, and Nate enters wearing the delirious smile of a man who's been ridden hard and put away wet. Hell, even his body hair looks happy. "I gotta say, it was worth the wait," he reports, before asking if this means that the "ebb" is over. Hmm. Who would have ever thought that Brenda would be the one who wanted to wait until they were engaged to have sex? Anyway, while she gets up to fetch some coffee, Nate takes the opportunity to check out the novel she's been writing on her perfectly product-placed laptop. "Wow, this is kinda racy," he exclaims, before she grabs it out of his hands and slams the lid shut. She tells him he can read it when it's ready, or more accurately, "if it's ever ready." Now you know how I feel about the recaps. He also asks if the main character Christina is her "fictional alter-ego, [her] Holden Caulfield." Brenda replies that she's more like her Humbert Humbert or her Constance Chatterley. So Brenda is a pedophile who likes to fuck the farmhands? Now that doesn't surprise me. Nate, by the way, has no idea who these people are, which prompts him to inquire if Brenda would prefer "an overly educated gas-bag like Trevor, or a semi-literate fuck machine like [Nate].""That's a no-brainer," replies Brenda. "No pun intended." Oh, okay. Heh. On the other hand, I am interested to know why a person can't be both. I mean, who wouldn't want a lover who could simultaneously fart, present a grammatically incorrect dissertation on cold fusion or the Grand Unified Field Theorem, and act out the pictures on pages seventeen through twenty-three of the Kama Sutra. That's like my dream date, or something. Putting these questions aside for the moment, Nate pulls a small diamond ring out of his pocket and slips it onto Brenda's finger. "Brenda Chenowith, will you marry me?" he asks. "Didn't we already do this?" she answers, before planting a big kiss on his lips. But then Nate says, "I love you," and all Brenda can manage in response is "Good." Oh, please. Come on, Nate. You may be semi-literate, but you're not stupid. Well, okay, you are stupid, but even you should be able read the giant red STOP sign printed on Brenda's forehead at this point (though I'm sure she likes to think it says "Yield"). She's bad news, my friend, and I just can't bear it anymore. Also, remember this later on in the episode when David and his Little White Sex Dork break up for almost exactly the same reason. Nate now suggests that they tell his family the good news over dinner that night. Brenda isn't too happy about that idea, and is even less enthusiastic when he asks about telling her parents and brother. Brenda claims that she hasn't been talking to Billy much lately, but a quick perusal of TV Guide's guest star lists for a few of the upcoming episodes makes me question the level of truth in that particular statement. Finally, there's some innuendo-laden banter about pancakes, and the scene ends with one of Nate's sideburns shoving its tongue down Brenda's throat.

It's morning in David's Lawyer-Loving Loft, and the Little White Sex Dork emerges from the shower wearing the delirious smile of a man who's been ridden hard and put away wet. Hell, even his body hair looks happy, albeit significantly less impressive than Nate's. David is already dressed at this point, and looking somewhat impatient, but the LWSD just keeps babbling about the quality of David's shower. "Mine just has this weird bolt sticking out of the wall that sends out mist," he explains. "It takes like five minutes just to get wet." Oh, so many disgusting Brenda jokes, so little time. The LWSD now wants to know why David never sleeps over at his place, and then launches into a long, grammatically incorrect dissertation on the quality of his molding. No word on whether he farts or not. The sound effect guys must be on vacation this week. "I would be happy to stay at your place," interrupts David, flashing a smile guaranteed to win the hearts of men and women alike. The Little White Sex Dork moves in to straighten David's tie, and explains that he wasn't expecting to hear from David after their second date, because he "never thinks the good guys are going to call back." "Who says I'm a good guy?" wonders David. "Well, it's been three weeks, that's usually a good sign," says the LWSD. "Check with me in three months and I'll tell you how you're doing." Um, you might want to amend that to about three paragraphs there, buddy. They kiss, and we're out.

It's morning in Ruth's Cossack-Cuddling Kitchen, and Lauren Ambrose enters wearing the delirious smile of a girl I'd like toyou know what, never mind. Besides, Nikolai's robe is (thankfully) covering up his body hair, so I can't tell how happy it might be. "Good morning, dear," says Ruth. "Apparently," replies Claire. Heh. She takes a seat at the table, and is quickly joined by David, who does quite the double-take when he spots Nikolai. "I see its Good Neighbor Day at the Fisher house," he announces, as Claire shares a meaningful look with her brother. Ruth, meanwhile, is upset that David didn't invite the Little White Sex Dork to join them. Heck, even Nikolai wanted to meet the guy. Ah, Nikolai. He's cute, cuddly, and not the least bit homophobic! What's not to love? Mommie Drearest announces that Nate is running late, but he'd like them all to be at dinner that night so he can make a big announcement. Claire shares another meaningful look with her brother, this time incorrectly assuming that the announcement has to do with Nate's anvilitis. Nikolai loves the idea, however, and grabs a great big handful of bacon to celebrate. Mmm. Bacon.

Emilio Estevez: Hey, Recap Boy! What the hell do you think you're doing?
Aaron: What do you mean?
Emilio Estevez: No Breakfast Club jokes? No cracks about Nikolai pushing maximum density? You're losing your touch.
Aaron: Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns.
Emilio Estevez: Yeah, whatever. Does Barry Manilow know you've been raiding his wardrobe?
Aaron: Hey, you're the one wearing tights.
Emilio Estevez: I don't wear tights. I wear the required uniform. Besides, this was the only way I could get work now that Daddy's giving all the good jobs to Charlie and Renee.
Kelly LeBrock: Okay, settle down, you two. And somebody go tell Lauren that if she ever gets the chance, she should shower with Aaron. It's a mind-scrambler.

Now the Ironic Segue Fairy cuts us to Das Sargzimmer, where the first words out of the Widow Du Jour's mouth are "Everyone had gotten off." Get it? "Gotten off"? Alan, Alan, Alan. What am I going to do with you? Turns out what she's talking about is people getting off the Andrea Boria, and how she discovered that her husband was dead. The Widow DJ is played this week by Harriet Sansom Harris, who's best known as either Frasier's agent or the Eves' mother, and she does a kick-ass job. In fact, don't let Mare hear me say this, but she's my favorite so far this season. She delivers a long monologue about how she met the DGDJ, which somehow manages to include the phrase "the sun was coming up, and I just sat there staring at this stupid pig carcass." Aww. How romantic. Then she pulls out a cigarette and lights up. Flick. Ahhh. David and Nate both go ballistic, citing California's draconian anti-smoking regulations, and pointing out that they could be fined if she doesn't put it out right away. And yet, they still have an ashtray right there on the table. That seems weird. David tries to get down some details for the funeral (which will be closed casket, due to the fact that the DGDJ was "dredged up from Long Beach Harbor with a propeller slice halfway down his body"), but Harriet only cares about the price. David quotes her a sum of $7,000, saying that it's average or slightly lower, and Nate uses his "gift" to promise that they'll take care of everything. When Harriet leaves without signing a contract, David complains quite bitterly that she's wasting their time by comparison-shopping for the best deal.

Oy. Another Rico/Vanessa scene. Cousin What'sHisName is working on the moldy walls, and Rico and Vanessa are fighting. Again. The cousin takes Vanessa's side, and sets up what appears to be an even more boring and pointless extension of this subplot when he flirts with her a bit. Is there some kind of HBO requirement that all married women on this network have to sleep with the guys who renovate their houses? I mean, Carrie did it, Carmela almost did it, and now we've got Vanessa. Hell, I'm surprised (and thankful) that Rebadow didn't sleep with Busmalis after he dug that tunnel in their cell.

Down in Palm Springs, Mitzi is leading the brothers through Kroehner's guest house, which was once owned by Frank Sinatra. She also introduces them to "Pepper," a hottie cabana-boy who used to be captain of the USC swim team. Nate can't believe they're wasting time like this. David can't tear his eyes away from Pepper's abs. Heh. Mitzi keeps on babbling, the upshot of which is that they should just forget about the trials and tribulations of running a small business, and have fun for the rest of the day. Perhaps imagining himself toweling off a wet and frisky Pepper, David says they should give it a shot.

Formaldehyde Fortress. Ruth enters Claire's empty bedroom to drop off some laundry, and finds herself examining the paintings on the wall. Apparently she's never seen them before either. Claire appears in the doorway, and Ruth quickly hustles out of there without saying a word.

Now David and Nate are sitting side-by-side in a hot tub, both with towels draped over their eyes. If you look closely, you can actually see Peter Krause's chest hair floating amongst the bubbles. Mitzi appears behind them in a bright red fifties-style bathing suit, and joins them in the water. "I want you to know, Matt Gilardi never got to come here," she says, presumably because the sun would have melted his excessively pale skin. Then she calls Pepper over, and he passes an envelope to Nate. The brothers look inside, and find a check with a value that no amount of manipulation of my TiVo's pause button will reveal. Sorry. "That's considerably more money than we've ever offered you," says Mitzi. Incidentally, the boys are sitting real close, with David's arm draped around Nate's shoulders, and they're just so cute that I want to wrap them up and take them home and cuddle with them all night long. Whoa. Sorry. Got a little out of control there. Nate is still being a party-pooper, however, and he tears up the check and dunks it in the water as he explains that they "like [their] lives just the way they are." Mitzi is furious, and she jumps right out of the tub, barking, "Honey, it may be tomorrow, or it may be ten years from now, but y'all are going under. It is just evolution. Kroehner's got the size, the resources, the market share, the lobbyists in Washington, and what've y'all got? Your pride? Well, woo hoo." Then she tells them the car for the airport is leaving in five minutes.

Forsaking those five minutes, we now cut directly to the plane, where Nate and David appear to be alone. David is worried that maybe they should have taken the offer, but Nate insists that they can never give up, and never surrender. Also, he occasionally likes to wear sunglasses at night. Then he grabs his forehead, and David inquires if his medication is bothering him. He also wants to know if Nate has told Brenda about the anvilitis yet, and Nate lies through his presumably hairy teeth and says yes. "How'd she take it?" asks David. "Well, you know Brenda," answers Nate. "She pretends to be stronger than all of us." Fade to white.

Back at Brenda's Brotherfucking Boudoir, Nate climbs into bed with his betrothed. They kiss and cuddle, and suddenly the doorbell rings. Brenda says it's a client, and tries to get up to answer it, but Nate won't let her. He tickles her a bit, and then sits up to straddle her chest, saying, "God, I love you so much." Then he grabs a pillow and starts smothering her. Yeah! Go Nate! It's your birthday! Oh, wait. Damn. Dream sequence. Oh, well. Brenda wakes up alone and out of breath, and runs to go answer the doorbell, which really was ringing.

St. Stephens. David and the Little White Sex Dork (who I always assumed was Jewish for some reason) emerge from services, and make plans for the afternoon. Suddenly Taylor runs over, and we get a shot of Keith and Eddie standing on the other side of the patio. David gets a big hug from Taylor, and the LWSD gets a dirty look. Heh. "I didn't know you were here," says David. "That's a big-ass lie," replies Taylor. "I saw you staring in church." Heh again. Keith lies to Eddie (sort of), and says that he and David had an argument, and then he calls Taylor back over to join them. "Who's she?" wonders the LWSD. "Oh, her uncle is an old friend of mine," explains David.

Brenda's Bordello of Boredom. She's got a bald and geeky-looking client on a massage table in her living room, and it's worth noting that the only reason she's using a table for this client when she never has before is that the camera angles required for this scene won't work if the guy's on the floor. I just thought you should know that. She has him roll over onto his back, and he apologizes for the erection she's so conveniently blocking by saying that it happens to him all the time. "It's nothing I haven't seen before," she says, re-covering him with the towel. And then suddenly, and for no good reason at all, she reaches under the towel and starts giving him a bit of the jerkie-jerkie. Yeah! Go client! It's your birthday! Oh, wait. It's NOT a dream sequence. Damn. Oh, well. The only reason I can think of that she might have decided to do something like this (besides the obvious psychobabble reasons we're meant to infer) is that the client does have a really hairy chest. So maybe she just got confused and thought he was Nate. Either way, the guy only lasts about ten seconds (for which the audience will be eternally grateful), and then we cut to a shot of Brenda washing her hands and looking disgusted with herself. The now-dressed client asks for another appointment, and when she turns him down, he just leaves some money on the counter and walks out.

Meanwhile, at the Fortress, Nate is setting up for the DGDJ's funeral. The Widow DJ enters and asks for permission to see her husband's body, even though David already turned her down. Since Nate is fresh out of relevant C.S. Lewis quotes, he reluctantly agrees. He opens the casket, and the Widow DJ stares in silence for a moment before breaking into a mixture of laughter and tears and screaming that she's "fucking glad" that he's dead. Great acting from Harriet Sansom Harris here, by the way. "I hope it hurt like hell!" she shrieks, before regaining control and solemnly whispering, "He can't hit me anymore, can he?" Ladies and gentlemen, Alan Ball, Master of The One-Line Reversal. Understanding slowly dawns on Nate's face, and the Widow strides away, never to be seen again.

David's Lawyer-Loving Loft. He and the Sex Dork enter, and immediately collapse onto the sofa, kissing and making out. "I could really love you, David Fisher," says the LWSD, with a really odd line delivery. David just says nothing at all, and understanding slowly dawns on the Little White Sex Dork's face as well. "Not exactly the response I was looking for," he says, "although I can't say I'm entirely surprised." David apologizes repeatedly, and says he likes The Dork a lot, but it's just that he's in love with someone else. "I just thought it would be a good idea for me to get involved with someone else," explains David, but the LWSD doesn't care. He's gets all huffy and storms out of the loft, leaving David alone with his lust for Keith.

Alan Ball: What was that ruckus?
Anthony Michael Hall: Uh, what ruckus?
Alan Ball: I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus.
Anthony Michael Hall: Could you describe the ruckus, sir?
Alan Ball : It sounded suspiciously like a dork's heart breaking.
Anthony Michael Hall: Oh. That. Um, you can just ignore that.
Alan Ball: Uh, okay. Also, why are we wearing bras on our heads?
Anthony Michael Hall: It's purely ceremonial.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Ruth is mopping when Sarah arrives with some "organic spices" she bought as a gift. There's no word on whether or not they were grown by a man named Gunther who once slept with Stevie Nicks. She's also brought a happy little bonsai tree for Claire to put in her knowledge corner, one that was presumably purchased with Mr. Dollarbillyagi. Ruth remains cold and insensitive, as she's prone to do, and then suddenly blurts out her emotions, as she's also prone to do: "You waltz in here after twenty years, insulting my cooking, getting drunk with my boyfriend, filling my daughter's head with all kinds of ideas, and reminding my sons of traumatic events in their lives." Sarah tries to explain that Nate would have lost his virginity eventually anyway, and that "Fiona" was a "very compassionate" woman. "He was molested!" exclaims Ruth. "He was a horny fifteen-year-old who couldn't believe his luck!" answers Sarah, and I've got to go with the wacky aunt on this one. The sisters start shouting back and forth, reliving their old childhood disputes, most of which center around the fact that Ruth had to stay home and take care of the legless grandmother while Sarah went out into the world. Gee, does this remind anyone of David and Nate? Yeah. That's what I thought. Sarah finally consents to apologize for what Ruth perceives as her "selfishness," but it doesn't seem to make Ruth feel any better, because Sarah "had more fun" than she did. That one shuts them both up. "Fun?" Sarah finally asks. "The only man I ever loved died when I was twenty-one. The children I so desperately wanted were impossible because my ovaries are dry as stone. And I'm a terrible artist, but I surround myself with people who have talent that I will never realize. It's all hard, Ruth. We just made different choices." The sisters sit quietly, their fury expended, and Sarah mentions how sorry she was to hear about The Late Nate's death. Finally, she takes the mop from Ruth's hands and offers to finish the job herself, thus completing their symbolic reconciliation.

Cut to Brenda's Hand-Job Hacienda, where's she hard (get it?) at work on her novel. Nate enters and sits down beside her, complaining about how bad his day was. Brenda consoles him by running her hand up and down his arm a few times, and Nate fails to recoil in horror while wondering where those hands have been all day. He mentions the Widow DJ, and asks, "Can you imagine hating someone so much and staying with them for twenty years?" "What makes you think people stay together because it makes them happy?" wonders Brenda. Run, Nate, run! He makes Brenda promise that they'll deal with any of their problems before it gets that bad, but Brenda insists that she'll be long gone before he could ever hate her. They cuddle for a moment, and then Nate asks, "So what did you do today?" "Not much," answers Brenda. "Just a client." Alan, Alan, Alan. Again with double-entendres. Brenda reaches down and starts unbuckling Nate's jeans, only she describes it as "releasing [his] cock from the prison of [his] pants." Oy. That must be some Harlequin romance she's writing there. Of course, now I'm reminded of the hilarious Allison Janney scenes from Ten Things I Hate About You, so maybe that's not such a bad thing.