We open this week by literally coming out of the closet, as we watch a hyper-organized Sally Field look-alike packing up the last of her earthly belongings. I mention the closet part of the shot only because it foreshadows the fact that this episode also contains semi-startling revelations about the sexuality of not one, but two prominent supporting characters. And also because it's the most interesting part of the scene, in which our DGDJ runs down a supremely anal pre-suicide checklist that features items such as "leave clearly labeled notes for various loved ones," "organize vet records for cat," "apply lipstick," and "listen repeatedly to that ubiquitous 'There She Goes Again' song." That last one is probably supposed to be some sort of bitter allusion to the fact that she's tried this sort of thing before. Unfortunately, a tragic accident of brain chemistry means that song will forever be associated in my head with Mike Meyers doing spoken-word poetry in So I Married An Axe Murderer, which causes me to wonder if it might not actually be a clever, albeit somewhat obtuse, reference to the immensity of Baby Maya's noggin. That kid's head is like Sputnik! Anyway, the compulsive lady heads out to the garage and kills herself. And since she's barely mentioned again in the rest of the episode, that's really all you need to know. Farewell, Melinda Mary Bloch. I only wish you'd pre-written the recap for me as well.
And if you thought the closet thing was clever foreshadowing imagery, then you'll really love this bit, which features Claire and Russell attempting to hang one of Olivier's paintings in preparation for an art show. He gleefully orders them to raise it a bit higher, so that people will "feel like the crow is going to peck their eyes out." A wide shot of the painting in full reveals that the squawking and spread-eagled ("spread-crowed"?) bird in question is superimposed over the genitals of a crudely-drawn naked guy wearing big black boots. I don't know who actually made that thing, but whoever it was did an excellent job of nailing Olivier's character. It's totally the sort of thing he would paint. In any case, remember that image later. From there we go to Claire hanging her own piece, which is a back-lit black-and-white photograph of an eclectic and [insert your own psychologically self-diagnostic adjective here] couple sunning themselves on lawn chairs in a graveyard. It's called "Life on Earth," and she's selling it for $75. Recent art purchases of my own (if you can call a really cool Ferris Bueller one-sheet art, and I do) would seem to indicate that a price that low wouldn't even cover the cost of the frame, much less the complicated back-lighting system and the privilege of owning a Claire Fisher original (although the subjective value I'm placing on that last one is probably psychologically self-diagnostic for myself). Russell agrees with me that $75 is too low, but he is quite jealous of the excellent and highly-visible location Claire has managed to snag. He escorts her back to a walled-off little "annex" to show off his own somewhat phallic (and therefore also psychologically self-diagnostic) contribution, which is basically a giant metal spiral that he's selling for $500 with the excessively accurate title of "Single Helix." Oh, please. Are we really supposed to believe that Russell can weld? I mean, one stray spark and you'd have a grease fire to rival The Hindenburg. Olivier smarms his way back into the scene so that Claire can ask him if she should charge more for her own piece. He's predictably pompous about it all, castigating their fixation on placement and price tags and ambiguo-accenting that "no one in this country was born with a soul. It has to be beaten into you." A nicely-executed pan then reveals that Olivier has priced his own work at $20,000. Hey, did you know this week's episode was directed by a former soap opera star?
In the dingy backroom of a West Hollywood video store, David and Keith are selecting their entertainment for the evening. David: "Have you seen this one?" Keith: "I don't like that guy. He's too veiny." David: "Sarge was veiny." Aaron: "Hee! And ew." The news certainly doesn't seem to have affected morale amongst his vast army of fans, however. David thinks the three-way should be a topic of conversation at their visit with Dr. Gross, but Keith is more concerned with "the dishes thing," and also seems to still be a bit bitter about The Jeanne Tripplehorn Incident. I've really got to add "Tripplehorn" to my spell-check dictionary, by the way. They're suddenly joined at the checkout counter by Father Jack, who's renting Sister Act and pointedly dropping the "Father" when he asks David to "please call me Jack." Just as pointedly, David introduces Keith as his "uh, boyfriend," and pleasantries are exchanged all around. Cue the clerk, who loudly announces that Father…er, Jack is late returning Back to the Crack: Butt Munch Two. Whoops. Not much of a surprise, I suppose, but I'd have pegged the former Father as more of a Gaytrix sort of guy. Oh, well. At least it wasn't Sex Men.
Ah, the break-up scene. That dreaded trap of the quality show recap. They're long, they're wordy, they're riddled with subtext, and in addition to the above mentioned Tripplehorn-deficiency, the Microsoft grammar check function stubbornly refuses to acknowledge that "DieLisaDie!youwhiny@%#$@&bitch!!!!" is a perfectly valid sentence. I suppose they're still better than all those pedeconferences, though. And besides, these two don't really break up. We begin with an extreme close-up of Nate (BS = 1), who says that he's sorry, but he simply "can-NOT have this conversation one more time." The fragile couple is at home preparing for bed, and Lisa's gripe this week is that Nate recently made the grievous error of introducing Maya to an old high school chum before remembering to also mention the wife that gave birth to her. "It's like I'm an afterthought," she complains. "And people notice. That guy was embarrassed for me." Yeah, but it probably wasn't because Nate introduced the baby first. "I can't do any better than this," he counters. "And you know, some women might be very happy with a faithful, committed, totally devoted father and husband." Lisa immediately points out the importance of the order in which he placed those two words, and while it's not like she doesn't have a point here, I'm still not sure incessantly harping on that point is really the best way to handle the situation. After a long awkward silence, Nate timidly offers the observation that "maybe this just isn't right." Lisa automatically assumes this means that Nate doesn't love her enough to want to stay, but that's an allegation he vigorously denies. "It's enough for me," he insists. "It's not enough for you. I'm fine. I'm totally fucking fine with what we have. You're the one who's not happy, but you have to make everything about me and that's what I can't live with anymore." Oh, come on. If there's one thing you'd think Nate would be used to by now, it's that EVERYTHING is ALWAYS about him. Well, him and the word "fuck," of course. "So what are you saying?" shrieks Lisa. "You want to leave? Oh no, I would have to leave because I moved my whole fucking life to this shithole city!" "Not for me you didn't!" Nate shouts, and you know, I'm almost convinced he's actually stupid enough to still believe that. "So you want to split up?" asks the ever more frantic Lisa. "Maybe," answers Nate. "Yeah. I don't know. I don't know. Maybe, I don't know." Wow. That's a really definitive answer.
After an oddly creepy brain-shot of Ruth sitting alone at the kitchen table (BS = 2), she gathers her courage enough to sneak upstairs and knock on Arthur's bedroom door. "Just a minute," he calls before taking a short time to open the door. Your psychological self-diagnosis of Arthur no doubt greatly informs whatever it was you imagined he was doing in there before she knocked. Was he furiously composing a MIDI sonata inspired by the purity of the love he feels for his newfound maternal surrogate, or was he compulsively polishing his embalming tools and hiding the crispy-fired remnants of his actual mother somewhere underneath the bed? Apparently it was the former, because once he finally invites her inside, Ruth quickly compliments him on the beauty of the last song he played. "I'm so pleased that you like it," he purrs. "I thought I would call it…'Semi-Precious.'" "For your Aunt Pearl?" Ruth wonders. "In part," he answers, ever so slyly. Or at least it was sly for a home-schooled guy who lives in a funeral home and frequently dictates letters on tape to communicate with his Mormon brethren. "I don't know how you can get such a beautiful sound from a computer," exclaims Ruth, which I'm choosing to take as a shout-out to my idea for a line of Books-On-Tape recap collections read by the stars of each show (just imagine Kiefer's velvety voice giving life to Gustave's musings on office furniture), but in reality is just an excuse to set Arthur up with an opportunity to tell an amusing (if somewhat forced) anecdote about his own upbringing: "As a child, I played the violin," he explains. "But when I went to college I had a very cruel roommate who threw the violin from our dormitory window. It was hand-carved by my Uncle Gunter, before he died of polio." Was Uncle Gunter married to Aunt Pearl? And does this mean that Arthur is related to Rose from The Golden Girls? Because I don't really have a hard time believing that. Anyway, this traumatic incident caused Arthur to give up on college and decide to attend mortuary school, which is where he discovered a strange fondness for the various atonal beeps produced by the TRS-80s in the school computer lab. His bizarre back-story thus established, Ruth decides to ask the boy to join her at Claire's art show, an invitation he's willing to accept only if she feels it would be "appropriate." "Well, of course!" she replies. "You're a member of our little family here. You're one of us, Arthur. One of us. One of us…"
Diaz Residence. Or as I like to call it, The Lyceum. Rico wanders into the living room to find Vanessa zoned out on the couch, and no dinner waiting for him in the oven. "I couldn't decide [what to make]," she explains, without even the strength to tear her eyes away from the "Fanny Lifter" infomercial she's so absorbed in. Rico suggests meatloaf, but they're all out of meat. Then he suggests rice and beans, but the kids already had rice for lunch. "I couldn't remember what we had last night," continues Vanessa, in that same drug-induced monotone. "We had burgers last night," Rico reminds her, with a classic facial expression. What's sad about this is that I just know there's a great "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad" Meatloaf joke in there somewhere, but I can't seem to find it. I mean, we all know Nate has already found "Paradise By The Dashboard Light," right? Rico demands to know if Vanessa has been taking her antidepressants, and she finally manages to display some emotion as she angrily retorts that it can take up to a month for the pills to work. "It takes a month for anything to happen at all?" wonders Rico. "Well, I gained five pounds already, so something is happening!" answers Vanessa, on the verge of tears. Rico takes pity on his obviously ill wife, and then Alan Ball demonstrates that he's still the only one with the ultimate power to shut Rico up by fading to white to end the scene.
We fade back up on The Formaldehyde Fortress, where Nate and Rico are meeting with the DGDJ's ex-boyfriend. Seeing as how we've already noted that everything is always about Nate, you probably won't be surprised to learn that this guy was himself trapped in a relationship with an emotionally unstable woman that he didn't really love. "I never thought she was really going to do it," he confesses. "But maybe in some way I did, because I stayed for years after I wanted to leave." Nate tries to convince him that he did the right thing, but Rico starts getting a little jealous of his partner and tries to make things all about himself for a few minutes. "Was she depressed?" he asks, before following that one up with a request for a detailed breakdown of all the medications she was on. The hapless and somewhat dorky guy offers up a thin ray of hope by mentioning a combination of drugs that seemed to be successful, but then he lapses into some psychobabble about tribes and stolen souls and how pissed off he was that Christy got voted out last week. And with the exception of a few brief seconds towards the end of the episode, that's it for our DGDJ's storyline. StC is 3,047 and counting. Hey, remember when Nate and David actually used to work in a funeral home? Yeah. Those were some good times.
Out in the Tofutti Tenement, meanwhile, Lisa holds her daughter and cries to herself. Now see? This is what I'm talking about. For God's sake -- Maya's own mother even cries more than she does. I wonder if they've got that kid on Prozac or something.
Couples therapy. David kicks things off by announcing, "I hear that when I re-wash the dishes after you've washed them, it makes you feel like I don't think you're good enough." Boy, it sure is a good thing these two are working out the really important issues in their relationship, isn't it? After they get that one settled, Dr. Gross asks if anything else has come up since their last session. Keith says no, but David rolls his eyes and blurts, "Well we did have three-way sex with a stranger." He's also bit of a drama queen about the whole thing, so I'm thinking Terry and Patrick might be starting to rub off on him a little bit. But not in a Sears men's room sort of way, of course. "How did it feel to you?" asks Dr. Gross. "Fine," answers David. "It was a lot more enjoyable than the paintball." Heh. Arye suggests that they might want to consider establishing ground rules for encounters like this if they plan on doing it again, but he does want make sure first that they're both comfortable with that idea. "It was very liberating," Keith acknowledges. "To be spontaneous and kind of wild together, instead of always being so careful about everything." "It was fun to be wild," David admits. "I still think Sarge was a little veiny, though." Arye repeats his "ground rules" suggestion, and our boys both tentatively agree.
Zhora's place. Brenda and her mother are getting ready to leave for the art show. Brenda prepares herself by moping on the divan, whereas Zhora is busy applying make-up and rolling a handful of joints (POT = ∞). Ever the enabler, Ma Chenowith happily offers her daughter a few fatties for the road. This forces Brenda to remind her mother that she's quit smoking pot, which in turn forces Zhora to take up the Alan Ball mantle of Staunch Defender Of All Things Weed. "I'm just curious, honey," she inquires, "what makes you think that was such a problem for you?" She further accuses Brenda of getting caught up in some "twelve-step Christian dogma," but Brenda insists that "taking on other people's dogma" has never been a problem for her. There's probably a compulsive barking joke in there somewhere, but I can't seem to find that one either. "You do tend to overdramatize yourself," says Zhora, apropos of nothing. "And I'm sorry, sweetie, but I've known you for a really long time." Brenda is all, "Thanks for your support, MOM," and Zhora eventually seems to notice that she's gone too far. They're just about to reach a level of moderate rapprochement when Billy enters to remind them that his car is double-parked outside. "I just have to do one final coat," says Ma, before heading into the bathroom to re-compose herself. Billy takes a seat beside his sister, and quickly notices that she's upset about something. "I'm sick of being so fucking conscious all the time," she sighs. "It's like I'm this incredibly boring, watered-down version of myself." "I know what you mean," he answers. So do I, Brenda. So do I. As they all make their way out the door, Zhora can't resist one last crack. "You know that shirt might actually work if you got rid of the bra," she tells her daughter. "Oh, yeah?" replies Brenda. "That skirt might actually work if you got rid of that ass." Hmm. I wonder if the Waltons ever had conversations like that.
The Boredello. Nate and Lisa bicker about babysitters and other banalities as Lisa angrily tries on every single sweater in her closet. "You know, you don't have to come if you don't want to," offers Nate, who seems to be incorrectly assessing his wife's passive-aggressive behavior. "I'm not going for you," she tells him. "I'm going for Claire. I have a relationship with her, you know." Yeah. If by "have a relationship" you actually mean "she thinks of me as the crazy ant-whisperer her brother accidentally knocked up," that is. "Ahh, fuck it. I'll just be cold," mutters Lisa, as she discards the last of the sweaters. And why is that she's somehow reminding me of Marge Simpson in this scene? I think it's her voice. Although that would explain why Maya never cries. It's a clever (albeit somewhat obtuse) shout-out to silent Maggie Simpson! Of course, if that were true, Nate would still have his Bart hair from Season One, so I guess I'm probably just reading too much into it. Oh, well.
Over at the art show, everyone is engaged in last-minute preparations. Claire and Russell wander through the gallery, snarking on some old guy in a white caftan who's created a layout of janitorial supplies that Claire thinks is likely to end up in the Museum of Modern Art. Of course, I just bought a pretty similar set-up at Target for $19.95 in preparation for my impending move, so non-New York residents can take heart. You too can own your own version of "Windex on a Tray." They eventually meander back to the annex, where Russell is shocked to discover that his helix has already been purchased. "It's a really beautiful piece," Claire gushes supportively. "Maybe that's why I got such a good spot." "Do you think somebody actually thought I was somebody?" wonders Russell. "You ARE somebody," insists Claire. "Somebody with really greasy hair and some major unresolved sexual issues."
Out in the front room, Keith and David are checking out Claire's picture. "It's pretty good, don't you think?" asks David. "I guess," answers Keith. "It looks like art." Well, I suppose that's a compliment. This is also where we begin the running conceit that everyone sees a reflection of themselves in the picture, and reacts to it accordingly. David thinks it's very "dark" and "what's the point?" Keith, however, think it's funny and sort of shows that "life goes on." I guess it would be rude to make a Corky Thatcher joke here, huh? Anyway, Claire shows up to interrupt them, and just as David and Keith finish heaping praise on her, Nate and Lisa arrive to add another coat of congratulations. While the married Fishers bicker about the photographic techniques Claire used to create the image, Keith spies Viggo Mortensen hanging out on the other side of the room. David says he doesn't know who that is, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to call bullshit on that one. Do you really think he's memorized Jeanne Tripplehorn's entire C.V., but he doesn't know Viggo? There's just no way. The real question, however, is whether or not he knows who Fiona Kleinschmidt is. Loyal viewers do, of course, and David quickly brings the rest of us up to speed by announcing that "Nate was deflowered by a mildly famous ceramicist" who has a few pots on display at the show. Lisa reacts to this revelation like someone just smashed the precious teapot she spent all day painting at Color Me Mine, and immediately stomps off to hit the bar. Awkward looks are exchanged all around.
In another corner of the space, Olivier is chatting up Billy Chenowith. "You were showing everywhere, and then nothing," he says. "What happened? Did you get married or something?" Billy: "No, I went crazy." They proceed to have a fairly jovial discussion of the relative merits of various mental health institutions, and it turns out that Olivier had another student who ended up in the same loony bin as Billy. "He made a real breakthrough with me," remembers Olivier. "Well, who doesn't?" replies Billy. "The repressed people," answers the professor, and then Lauren Ambrose ever so slightly misses her cue to enter when Billy points right at her and says, "Oh, right. Them." Heh. Claire can't believe these two know each other, but Billy reveals that Olivier visited for a term while he was at LAC Arts himself. "He was my best student," reports Olivier. "After I cracked him open." Heh again. That line gets a lot funnier in about thirty seconds. Olivier wanders off to smarm all over the janitorial supplies guy, and Claire is impressed that he considers Billy to have been so talented. "Oh, I don't know about that," comes the reply. "I'm pretty sure I was the only one sleeping with him." I suppose that revelation isn't really too surprising either, considering that most of you think Billy fucked his own sister, but I do wonder what we're supposed to make of the multiple outings in this week's episode. Especially since they don't do it to Russell, and he's the only one who's actually relevant to the season's story arc. "I had a lot of static around my sexuality," Billy explains. "It was a sex thing. Not a gay thing." "Yeah, but wasn't that sort of a fucked-up power dynamic, though?" wonders Claire. Billy: "There's always a fucked-up power dynamic with sex, isn't there? Or is that just an incest thing?"
Nate and Lisa, meanwhile, are raiding the hors d'oeuvres table. Lisa thinks the dip tastes like vomit, so Nate offers her some cheese instead. Is that a subtle hint that he'd like to try polygamy as a solution to their marital woes? Because it doesn't really seem to be working all that well for David and Keith. Lisa refuses to accept the cheese, and what I can only assume was about to be a massive dairy-related catfight is prevented when Nate spots Brenda sidling up to the buffet line. "You don't want that," he tells her as she reaches for the dip. "I'm told it tastes like vomit." Brenda seems rather sanguine about running into her ex like this, but she does perk up a bit when she recognizes Lisa from last week's abdominal massage. Lisa, however, does a horrible job of trying to pretend they've never met, and even Nate picks up on the weird vibe as he "introduces" his wife. You'd think Lisa would be rather gratified that he didn't introduce the cheese first, but she still seems really tense about being busted by Brenda. "So what can I eat here?" wonders Nate's long-lost love. And with that, he silently holds out the handful of cheese his wife rejected just moments before. You can almost hear the "Fuck you, Lisa" that's clearly written in his devilish smile (Fk = 3).
Cut to a peppy little montage wherein every single piece of artwork in the room gets sold. Well, every piece but Claire's, that is. Hell, even the photo of the guy with stick figures carved into his back got purchased. Claire watches all this in dismay, and things only get worse when a pair of pretentious Asian art aficionados sneer that "anyone can take a camera to a cemetery." Ouch. "Disturbing work always takes longer to sell," says Russell, in a vain attempt to cheer her up. "That's easy for you to say," she responds. "Yeah, but that was just a fluke. My mother probably called from Florida to put a hold on it." Aww. My mom just called from Florida to put a hold on this recap. That's why it was late.
The Lyceum. Rico has prepared a romantic candle-lit evening for his wife, and he's exulting over the fact that he's found a babysitter to take the kids to "Goofy Golf" for the night. He offers her a glass of wine, but Vanessa points out that she can't drink while she's on medication. Then he stands there kissing her for the ten minutes, with the wine glass held awkwardly just beneath her nose. Was that bad blocking, or was he testing her to see if she'd cave and take a drink? You be the judge. Finally they make their way over to the sofa, and Rico fulfills our weekly massage requirement by rubbing his wife's shoulders while he whispers sweet nothings about Zoloft in her ear. In lieu of an StC value this week, I've decided to institute Start-to-Massage (StM, not to be confused with StTM) as a reliable indicator of third-season quality. This week's value? 1,625. Not bad, but it's still not good enough to get Rico laid. They end up just sitting there on the sofa, silently contemplating the troubles that have befallen them.
Back at the gallery, Brenda is admiring a giant brown rectangle. Nate seeks her out for a little chat, and we learn that the rectangle is Billy's contribution to the show, and that Brenda has never seen it before. She describes it as "cool, and sort of painless," which I guess means that Billy is getting better, but I personally think it would have been a lot cooler as a rhombus instead of a rectangle. But that's just me. Brenda then segues into a discussion of her new philosophy on life, which is that she doesn't take care of anyone else so that she'll be forced to take care of herself. Theoretically. "How's that working out for you?" Nate wonders. "Well, I still live with my mother," she reminds him. "Yeah, who doesn't?" he sighs. Heh. Not me, that's for damn sure. Mom would have forced me to finish this recap before supper.
Speaking of mothers, Zhora is hiding out in a back room puffing a joint with the janitorial supplies guy (POT = ∞ + 1). Keith accidentally stumbles across them, and Zhora gleefully invites him inside to try some of her husband's "cancer pot." "It's incredible," she adds. "And I've got a ton of it. He went a lot faster than anyone expected." I don't really know whether to laugh or cringe at that. It'd probably be a lot funnier after a few bong hits, though. Keith takes a few hits as they discuss the giant plastic pyramid that dominates the center of the gallery, and then David enters because he heard Keith's voice. He wants to leave and go get a drink, and he's also shocked to see his uptight ex-cop boyfriend toking up with the mother of his brother's ex-girlfriend. Or something like that. "You want some?" offers Zhora. "It's California pharmaceutical grade!" Heh. Then she staggers a bit and starts hearing her dead husband's voice. Um, okay.
And now Ruth and Arthur have finally arrived, completing our gathering of almost all the main characters. They're complimenting Claire on her photo -- or, more accurately, on the frame she chose to put the photo in. Ruth: "It was the perfect choice." Arthur: "Well done." Hee! Olivier comes over to greet them, and if I were Claire, I'd be really, really worried about what he might say. And with good reason, because he deflects Ruth's compliment that he's had "quite an effect" on Claire by smarmily snarking, "Not as much as you have." Ruth remains blissfully oblivious to what he's implying, however, and then she and Arthur take turns at interpreting Claire's Rorschach art. Ruth thinks it's really "sweet." Arthur thinks it's "tender," and suggestive of "the quiet dignity of eternal love." "It's supposed to be disturbing," groans Claire. Showing a higher level of social awareness than I'd have expected him to be capable of, Arthur quickly realizes that things are getting awkward, and offers to escort Ruth over to the bar. "Do you think they're fucking?" Olivier wonders, as he and Claire watch them leave. "No! Ew!" she replies. Oh, poor, sweet little Claire. If you only knew what they were really up to. Ew, indeed.
Cut to the ladies room, where Lisa is washing her hands when Brenda walks in. Ooh! Catfight! This should be good. I need to go make some popcorn. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be much biting or scratching, and I have to admit that I'm incredibly disappointed by that. This scene would be so much cooler if one of them had adamantium claws. Anyway, Brenda rather calmly accuses Lisa of accepting a massage under false pretenses, which she describes as being "weird, dishonest, and kind of stalkerish." Yes, but is it any weirder or more stalkerish than silently watching a hooker give a blow-job? I don't think so. ["I believe the 'takes one to know one' principle is being applied by Brenda here." -- Sars] Brenda tries to make a graceful exit, but Lisa bursts into tears, sobbing that she's "such a wreck right now," and she's "totally losing [her] mind." This punches Brenda's deeply ingrained Sympathy For The Clinically Insane buttons, and she offers Lisa a Kleenex and the observation that Nate "is pretty good at making people feel crazy." "What was I doing sneaking around like that?" cries Lisa. "It's so desperate." "It's not desperate," says Brenda. "It's trying to get something you don't have." Lisa thinks she means Nate, but that's not Brenda's point. "You have Nate," she tells her newest replacement as The Most Hated Character On The Show. "I think you'll have him forever if you want him." Even so, Lisa still believes that Nate loved Brenda more than he'll ever love her. "He didn't really love me," Brenda whispers. "He was just trying to get something he didn't have." What, you mean like actual fun in a relationship? Or just the opportunity to spend time with someone you're not constantly wanting to see hacked into little pieces by a genetically-engineered mutant who actually has worse hair than you do?
Back outside, Claire and Russell are bemusedly watching Olivier and Zhora getting funky on a dance floor that's been set up in the corner of the gallery. Russell thinks Olivier looks like "such a fucking idiot," but Claire is just happy to see that he's "living life." And off that note, The Ironic Segue Fairy cuts us straight to Vanessa, who's zoned out on the sofa again watching Xena: Warrior Princess while Rico snores beside her. You know, to be perfectly honest, the recapper in me sort of resents the implied lifestyle condemnation inherent in that edit. I wonder if Kate Robin is still mad at me because I didn't like her last episode. If it'll make you feel any better, Kate, I thought this one was one of the best of the season. This show needs all the Chenowith it can get.
Oy. Another semi-break-up scene. At least this one takes place inside the visually interesting confines of the giant plastic pyramid. And it's also a lot easier to summarize, because the characters are finally beginning to realize the truths we've already known about them for the entire season. Lisa confesses that she's just as unhappy with things as Nate, and is even gracious enough to admit that it's not entirely his fault that marriage hasn't transformed him into the perfect, loving super-spouse she was expecting. "It's good that we tried, though," she says. "I think we had to try." Suddenly faced with the prospect of actually going through with his desire to leave, however, Nate quickly backs down. "But don't you think we could maybe now just start from a different place?" he asks. "Maybe it's enough to just stop pretending. Without all the pressure to be something we're not." Lisa grasps at this straw like a woman with the last life vest on the Titanic, especially when Nate says that this is the only way they'll be able to know they "really tried." They manage to bask in the glow of their marriage-saving relief just long enough for Nate to observe that "these fucking pyramids really do work," and then Brenda picks the worst possible moment to enter the pyramid herself. No one seems willing to comment openly on the ex-girlfriend elephant in the…uh, pyramid, so instead our little threesome quickly degenerates into self-diagnostic psychobabble. Brenda thinks the pyramid is "horrible plastic version of a sacred space." Lisa thinks it indicates that "modern life isn't so bad." Nate just babbles about continuity and history, which demonstrates that he's only capable of intelligent self-diagnosis when his dead father is in the room. We end with a shot of Nate putting his arm around Lisa, while his eyes remain tightly focused on Brenda. One can only assume he's asking himself, "What would Ra do?"
Fade to later, as Claire and Russell sit on the floor of the nearly empty gallery. Just as she's about to implode with despair, some guy walks past and puts a little sold sticker on her photograph. He tells her it was purchased by a "Fifi Rochedale," but Claire is smart enough to figure out right away that "Fifi" was Russell's cat, and "Rochedale" was the street he lived on, which means that he used his porn name as an alias to buy her picture. That's actually really sweet, but "Fifi Rochedale" is a horrible porn name. And I can say that because mine is Shane Shagbark, which gets bonus points for alliteration in addition to the vague allusion to arboreal naughtiness. ["Yeah…'Dingleberries Rowan.' Nope, not kidding. Top that, sucka." -- Sars] "It's a good investment," explains Russell. "That thing is going to be worth so much more in five years." You are so right about that, my friend. I'd totally pay at least five times that for it on eBay. What do you suppose the chances are that an entrepreneurial member of the props department is reading this?
Elsewhere in the gallery, Billy and Brenda search for Zhora, who has mysteriously disappeared. Or maybe she just found a ride of her own. That line will also be funnier in a few minutes. Sort of.
Yeah. Okay. You know, I've been thinking all week about how to describe this scene, and yet I'm still at a complete and total loss. It's just so…creepy? Bizarre? Implausible? Endearing? Endearingly creepy? Bizarrely implausible? Who knows? All I do know is that Ruth and Arthur are sitting side by side on the edge of her bed, and their playful proto-foreplay of gently nudging each other quickly escalates to an almost Tough Enough level of violence. I get that they're both too insecure to make the first move, but would a woman who once shouted "Fuck my legless grandmother!" in front of a room filled with complete strangers really be unable to whisper "fuck me, my sweet Mormon Moby-wannabe" to a man she's already invited into her own bedroom? Oy. In any case, the scene is wholly redeemed for me when a particularly powerful shove sends them tumbling to the mattress, and Arthur is forced to awkwardly remove his glasses so that he can properly spoon with her (No, not like that). As a fellow ophthalmologically-challenged individual, I've found myself in the same embarrassing position more times than I can count. Glasses suck for making out.
While those two engage in a bit of relatively chaste snuggling, David and Keith are out enjoying a refreshing beverage in a local gay bar. Well, David is enjoying his beverage. Keith is busy spinning around in circles on his bar stool and admiring all the pretty, pretty neon lights. He's very stoned. He's also on the prowl for another threesome candidate, and he's already selected some guy he's spotted across the room. This catches David by surprise, because they haven't "negotiated" any of the ground rules just yet. "We are negotiating," answers Keith. "I'm saying you can pick somebody else." Heh. David won't let it go, though, and he insists that they adopt a strict "no kissing" policy. "Unless you think that would be rude to the other person," he adds. Seeing as how it's probably unlikely that they'll be bringing Julia Roberts home to get nasty with, I don't think it's going to be much of a problem. David suddenly sees The Little White Sex Dork II entering the bar, and is quick to offer him up as a potential candidate. "We're not doing it with anyone we know," replies Keith. "That's just creepy." Well, it's good to know he's got standards, I guess. Keith leaves to go make a move on his own selection, and David gets a chance to chat with Patrick for a minute. "I think I'm not so much a gay bar person," says The LWSD II. "Is that really sad for me?" "No, I think that's really happy for you," responds David. Hmm. Was that a subtle hint of QAF-bashing I'm picking up on here? Actually, you know what? I'm not even going to go there. I know better than to get those posters all riled up.
So remember when I told you to keep the image of that bird in mind? Well, here's the payoff. Brenda comes home to find Zhora and Olivier going at it in the living room, and the shot is cleverly designed so that Ma Chenowith is positioned in front of Olivier just like the bird was in front of Ugly Naked Guy. "I bought a painting!" gasps Zhora, by way of explanation, and we pan over to see that Olivier's artwork is propped against the wall right in front of them. That's gross on so many levels that I don't even know where to begin.
Back at The Fortress, Arthur abruptly announces that cuddle time is over, and he needs to return to his room. Ruth is disappointed by this, but at least this time she manages to actually ask him to stay the night. "Oh no, I couldn't," he answers, with just enough embarrassment to indicate that he knows what he's passing up. "Aunt Pearl used to put clothespins down there. It's not pretty." Ruth dejectedly hands over his glasses, and the ever-gentlemanly Arthur thanks her smartly for a lovely evening before he departs. Once alone, Ruth drains her entire glass of wine. Fade to white.
Fade back up on David, Keith, and Threesome Guy packed like sardines in a bed. Threesome Guy obviously has more experience with this sort of thing than the Sarge, because he immediately hops out of bed and starts getting dressed so he can beat a hasty retreat. Unfortunately, it takes him so long to get dressed that I begin to wonder if "Threesome Guy" is a definitive enough nickname for someone important enough to merit so much blatantly bare-assed screen time. So, in honor of his only defining bit of characterization, I've decided to dub him "No Underwear Man." Oh, wait. Keith did say he was tall. Okay, so Tall No Underwear Man runs out of the house like his ass was on fire, while David and Keith both pretend to be asleep.
Hey, look! A funeral! Well, that was certainly unexpected. Nate and Rico nod at the DGDJ's ex-boyfriend as he departs after the service, and then they take a quick moment to reemphasize all the respective ways in which his life was merely all about them before starting to put the chairs away. "She was doing fine, she was on the right medication," insists Rico. "She did it because he left her." "It's depressing how deluded people are about what love really is," replies Nate, continuing, "It's not like someone else can change who you are. Like this woman, Melinda. That guy was the only good thing in her life? And he didn't even seem that great to me." I'm not really sure what he means by that, but I'm just going to assume it's somehow relevant to his relationship with Lisa. "Even so," admits Rico, "I wouldn't want to be him right now." "Yeah, me neither," agrees Nate, as they both stare at the coffin. I think these two really need to a start a support group for guys with crazy girlfriends. I know I'd join.
Despite the fact that, earlier in the episode, she couldn't even remember what she made for dinner the night before, Vanessa has now returned to a job where she's responsible for delivering life-saving medications to patients in dire physical condition. Yeah. That seems smart. The sole purpose of this scene is to allow Vanessa's nurse buddy to make a prescription of her own, as she assembles an illicit collection of pills and insists that Vanessa give them a try. Incidentally, is Justina Machada pregnant? Or did she really gain that weight just for the character? And why is she in the end credits when Ben Foster gets to be up front?
At the new Brotherfucking Boudoir (this one being owned by the actual brother), Brenda is bitching about walking in on Mommy and her bizarre sexual habits. She's really just wants to go back home and announce that she's moving out, but she's afraid of what she might find when she gets there. "You know I can do it for you," offers Billy, "if you feel like you've seen enough of Mom's pussy for a few days." "Who could ever see too much of Mom's pussy?" marvels Brenda. "It's like a trip down memory lane." Bwa! "I really appreciate you letting me stay here," she adds. "It's just until I get my client list back together." Uh oh. The thought of these two living together kind of frightens me a bit. But it should also make for some highly juicy, Mom's-pussy-spotting drama, and I'm always up for that sort of thing. Er, so to speak.
And now we go back to the gallery one final time, where Claire and Russell have been stuck on dish duty. I wonder if he'll be offended when she re-washes them after he's done? The big news here is that Olivier is the one who bought Russell's sculpture. "Wow," says Claire. "That's really flattering." Um, how do you go from thinking last week that this guy might be fucking your boyfriend to thinking this week that it's really flattering that he's paying $500 for the giant, phallic hunk of metal your boyfriend created? Russell thinks Olivier might be trying to "teach [him] some kind of really weird lesson." "Like he owns me," he continues. "His whole power thing." Oy. I'll ask again why Russell is the only one who doesn't get outted this week. Is Claire really that blind? I guess so, because when Russell attempts to re-assert his heterosexuality by practically mauling her right there over the dishes, she giggles and says that his hair "tickles." "Tickles"? Yeah, right. I think "oozes" might be the word you're looking for there.
And finally, we return The Chateau-fu, where Nate comes home to find Lisa napping on the bed. He gently wakes her up, and they both smile in recognition of their desire to start over. "I'm just happy to see you," he whispers, while brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. "I'm happy to see you, too," she replies. She reaches out to pet his shoulder, and we fade to white on the season's recurring theme of tactile contact.
Aaron: Wow. Great episode.
Alan Ball: Thanks. And I really liked that "Mormon Moby-wannabe" bit.
Aaron: Aww, thanks. That's so sweet. Can I get a hug?