Twilight

TWOPSFU/-2100 -- Begin Transmission:

Brenity: I know why you're here, Aaron. I know what you've been doing...why you hardly sleep, why you live alone, and why night after night, you sit by your computer. It's the question, Aaron. It's the question that drives us. It's the question that brought you here. You know the question, just as I did.
Aaron: Is it "Will you marry me, Lauren?"
Brenity: No, you fucking moron. The other question.
Aaron: What is the Natrix?
Brenity: Exactly. The answer is out there, Aaron. And it will find you if you let it.

It just doesn't get any cooler than Sars, does it?

Fade up on an improbably darkened conference room, where a friendly-looking prison guard is explaining the policies and procedures for an upcoming execution to a group of assembled witnesses, lawyers, and family members. Hmm. Prison guards? Executions? Ambient light levels not normally seen outside the event horizon of a black hole? Ack! I'm back in Oz again! Aww, come on, Sars! I take one week off and you throw me back in the hole? That seems a little harsh. Although maybe I can become the Couch Baron's prag, and then no one will mess with me. In any case, Officer Smurphy is explaining that the condemned man's "last statement may be offensive. It may contain expletives or material of a dark nature." Yeah. No fucking duh. This is Six Feet Under, after all. Incidentally, this scene is remarkably HITG-heavy, what with Graham "L.A. Confidential" Beckel as the DGDJ, Jim "Adaptation" Beaver as Officer Smurphy, and that one guy who looks like Scott Glenn but isn't in a non-speaking role as a lawyer. There's also an attractive young woman who's really more blonde than famous per se, but seeing as how she turns out to be important later on, I should probably make a point of mentioning her up front. "You may hear what is known as a death rattle," continues Officer Smurphy. "A snort, or a cough of some sort." Flickahh. "Now, I'm sorry if this is troublesome to you folks, but if when this is all over you tell me, 'Officer [Smurphy], it happened just like you said it would,' then I figure I've done my job." Amen, brother. Although I guess you're really more of a precapper than a recapper, but we'll still let you join the union. Kathy Bates directed this week's episode, by the way, and as a veteran of several Oz episodes herself, she must be feeling right at home. That's probably why she's got the camera swirling around like it's attached to Hill's wheelchair and someone just lit his dreadlocks on fire.

Cut to the execution chamber, where our soon-to-be DGDJ lies strapped to a table in an anviliciously Christ-like pose. I mention that only because it's strongly implied later on in the episode that Nate's personal salvation can only be found in the vagina of this guy's daughter. Yeah. God must be so very proud. After ranting a bit about his opposition to the death penalty, the Not-Yet-Dead Guy Du Jour tells the witnesses (who are all crowded against the cell bars a few feet away) that they're "gonna eat shit and vomit blood forever." Wow. This really is Oz. Am I going to have to reinstitute the bodily fluid box scores again? As the warden gives the signal for the lethal injection to begin, the DGDJ stiffens a bit and strains against his bonds. His last words? "You're all fucking pigs slipping out of God's ass, and I would cut all your throats if I could. I hate this motherfucking" It's the fact that he died on the word "motherfucking" that finally convinces me once and for all that I'm watching SFU and not Oz. Of course, if this were Oz, I'd have to include a famous death row quote in here somewhere. In lieu of that, however, I'll just link you to the Texas Department of Corrections website, where you can read the final words of everyone they've ever executed. Sometimes I worry about the internet. Fortunately, we simply fade to white instead of cutting to the expected Augustus Interlude. Farewell, Carl Desmond Williman. Your death might not have helped anyone, but look at it this way: At least there was no spoon.

At the She's Gone But Not Forgotten Garage Apartment, Nate is slumped on his sofa, staring at a handful of missing persons flyers with Lisa's picture on them. Maya is sitting (silently, of course) in her playpen nearby, and Brenda's voice can be heard leaving a mildly desperate-sounding message on the answering machine. She starts announcing that she's going to keep calling until Nate tells her to stop, but before I get a chance to bust out a "he'll keep calling me, and calling me, and calling me" Ferris Bueller reference, Nate rips the answering machine right out of the wall. Hey! That's the same model I have! Shout-out?

Elsewhere in The Fortress, Claire is lying awake in bed, staring at her alarm clock. It finally goes off, and we're treated to a woman's voice giving precise temperature reports down to the decimal for various neighborhoods around Los Angeles. Heh. That's the sort of precision you'd usually expect to see reserved for StC calculations. Claire reaches out to smack the off button, and then drags herself out of bed. Aww. She's even cute in the mornings. Well, when she's not puking, at least.

Hmm. Let's see here. If it's the second-to-last episode of the season, it must be time for David and Keith to break up again. And what do you know? Look at that. We're at Angry-La, and David is very politely trying to explain to a telemarketer why he has no interest in having the newspaper delivered to their apartment. They're not interrupted by the sound of gunshots this time, so instead Keith walks by, grabs the phone out of David's hand, and immediately hangs up on the caller with a curt "We're not interested." Heh. I actually thought that was a quasi-cute way of rescuing his boyfriend from an annoyingly endless conversation, but David seems to be a bit miffed about it. Here's a little tip, Dave: If you're not actually going to buy something, telemarketers WANT you to hang up on them. It's all about calls-per-hour in that business. Anyway, David chases Keith into the kitchen, and things quickly degenerate into one of those epic fight scenes that I always dread having to recap. Keith thinks David's coffee tastes like crap, and also that his constant niceness is akin to "nails on a chalkboard." David, on the other hand, thinks that Keith has had a "tone" in his voice ever since their trip to visit his family. Keith responds by reminding David that he should have just kept his mouth shut in front of Kersh, and yells that he needs to learn to stay out of things when Keith doesn't want him on his side. "See, this is the difference between you and me," replies an increasingly strident David. "I want you on my side. I need you on my side. And it's the one thing I never, ever have. Except, you know, for that time in Vegas. And the whole missing sister-in-law thing. Oh, and that time you helped me look for the foot. Other than that, though, NEVER!" David goes on to claim that all he ever wanted was to help Keith be whatever it is he wants to be (unless what he wants is to be is in a threesome, of course), and that Keith doesn't actually "like" him very much. "You're not for me," he adds. "You don't complete me." Keith looks pretty surprised about this, and I'm not sure if it's because he can't believe that David is actually standing up for himself, or because he can't believe that David is actually standing up for himself in such a whiny and self-righteous fashion. "Why should I stand for this?" screams David, who is now on something of a roll. "Why should this constant abuse be what I call love?" He tries to make a dramatic exit from the kitchen, but when Keith gently moves to block his path, David hisses, "Don't touch me!" and storms out of there in a big, giant huff. Keith just looks bewildered. As well he should.

Nato: What is the Natrix?
Keithius: The Natrix is everywhere. It is all around us. It is all about you. Even now in this very recap. You can see it when you look at your monitor. Or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work. When you have sex with strangely tattooed women. When you purchase Tubey merchandise. It is the world that has been pulled over your giant, rectangular head to blind you from the truth.
Nato: Whoa!

Across town, Claire has gone to a Planned Parenthood clinic to schedule an abortion. She's meeting with a nurse who is explaining the procedure, and apparently having a ride home afterwards is a more important part of the abortion process than the actual abortion itself, because the nurse spends like nineteen billion hours asking Claire about it. I'll just assume that's one of those things I didn't know because I'm a guy, and move on. Or maybe it's just a necessary plot point. In any case, Claire is convinced that no one in her family would be willing to chauffer her down to the clinic to have a Soul-Glo-soaked zygote extracted from her womb. "What about a friend?" asks the nurse. "Oh, yeah!" replies Claire. "I'll just call DangerSlut. After all, she did say she would be sticking around in L.A. this year, right? I'm sorry, what's that? Oh. You say you need a cheap excuse to work Brenda into the plot? Oh, all right, fine. I guess I have no friends, then."

Das Sargzimmer. The blonde from the opening scene is revealed to be the DGDJ's daughter, and she's there arranging a funeral for her father and bitching about how much her life sucks. "This has been the longest month of my life," she complains. Amen, sister. And if you think having your father executed by lethal injection is bad, you really ought to try moving some time. Blondie is also upset that she lost her job at a used car dealership because she had to take too many days off to attend the execution. A particularly shaggy Nate assures her that she did the right thing by going, but that doesn't really cheer her up very much. "Yeah," she snorts. "And now I'm out of a fucking job. Thank you, right thing." Heh. And right there on the "fucking," by the way, was totally when Nate decided he wanted to sleep with her. And me too, I must admit. A hot blonde swearing in the Sargzimmer? Come on! I mean, she's no rabbi or anything, but still. Anyway, Rico pipes up to ask if she'll be "wanting a service for [her] father, or" He doesn't finish that thought, but it's clear from his expression that he's thinking something along the lines of "or do you want us to just chop up the body into little pieces and feed them to wild pigs so that he'll never harm innocent people again?" Or maybe he was thinking necrophilia. Either way. Blondie is upset because she definitely does want a service, and Father Jack was supposed to be calling them with all the details. Aww. Father Jack is still a Father. That's good to know. But who the hell did Tim Macaulun piss off in the writer's room on this show? First he's a porn addict, and now he's stuck eulogizing murderers? Sucks to be him. But not literally, of course. Damn vow of chastity. Nate suddenly remembers that Father Jack did call; he spoke to David, which gives Rico an excuse to leave the room so that Nate and Blondie can be alone for a while. Except I think he said he was going to look for David to get all the details. Whatever.

Once they're alone, Blondie tries to do a little subtle flirting. Her opening line? "I bet if my dad wasn't a murderer you'd be saying all sorts of sweet things to me." Heh. It's no "If I said you had a great body, would you hold it against me?" but I guess it'll have to do. She also asks to see the choices for the "box," and despite the fact that there's a perfectly serviceable gigantic wall full of coffins right there in the room, Nate decides instead to squeeze into the tiny three-square-inch space between Blondie and the edge of the sofa so that he can flip through a catalog with her. As he tries to suggest a few different casket models, Kathy Bates goes all Basic Instinct on our collective crotches with a low-angle beaver shot of Blondie uncrossing her legs, and Nate's eyes are instantly drawn to the bizarre tattoo she has on her upper thighs. It's a series of pipes that run up one leg and down the other, with a bunch of stick figures clustered around the open ends. "They're little people," she explains, while raising her skirt a bit and sensuously tracing the pipes with her finger. Flickahh. She adds that the little people are broken into tiny pieces when they enter the pipes, but end up fully assembled by the time they emerge. Hmm. Let's see. Broken men enter her vagina and come out whole on the other side? Gee, that couldn't possibly be all about Nate, could it? Nah. Rico returns at this point, and he cocks a bit of an eyebrow when he notices these two sitting so close together. This in turn prompts Nate to fidget uncomfortably in his seat, as he tries in vain to conceal the fact that even his sideburns are erect by now.

Cut to later, as the entire Fisher family congregates in the kitchen. Ruth offers to serve up some of her stuffed cabbage rolls, which reminds me that it's time for breakfast, but no one on the actual show seems to be hungry. Except for Maya, of course, who is zoned out silently in her high chair with baby food smeared all over her face. Nate is zoned out silently in his own regular-height chair (with two days worth of stubble smeared all over his face), and he keeps flashing on various images of Lisa waiting by her car at the beach for someone else to arrive. The flashes are intercut with Ruth back at the Fortress, as she pulls "one of Lisa's Dr. Peppers" out of the fridge. "Lisa doesn't drink Dr. Pepper," insists Nate, but Claire snarkily informs him that she just doesn't drink it in front of him. Hmm. Let me get this straight. The two secret vices in this family are cigarettes and Dr. Pepper? Now, that has to be a shout-out. I'm made of cigarettes and Dr. Pepper. With this little informational tidbit added to the storyline in his head, Nate now flashes on some random guy who's joined Lisa by her car. He's precisely the sort of goateed, flannel-wearing, European car-driving, Dr.-Pepper-swilling neo-hippie Phish-head that you'd expect Lisa to go for, and he's intent on convincing her that Nate is "toxic" as he drives her off into the sunset to find true love. Oy. If that's really what happened to Lisa, all I can say is good riddance. Those two deserve each other. Back in the kitchen, Ruth is explaining to everyone that she'll be gone for the evening, and then she dashes out the door with an overnight bag in hand. As the junior Fishers continue to laze about in the kitchen, Claire tentatively asks her brothers if they have any plans for the day. Their responses are identical and simultaneous, except Nate plans to be doing the "same old shit," whereas David will be dealing with the "same old crap." Heh. Jinx. They share a sheepish grin, and surprisingly, Claire asks if Ruth might have any plans. Wow. I guess they really did bond during that talk a few weeks back if she'd even entertain the notion of asking Ruth for a ride. Regardless, however, the boys answer in unison again, this time announcing that Ruth will be with "George." Throughout all this, by the way, Maya has been squeezing David's hand in her typically adorable fashion. Maybe the reason she's so quiet is that she's been getting a contact high off all the embalming fluid.

Cromwell's Crib. Ruth and George are cuddled up in bed, taking a poetry quiz out of a giant blue book. The last question is: "What poem's original title was 'He Do The Police In Different Voices.'" Am I the only person in America who thought the correct answer was NWA's "Fuck Tha Police"? Yeah. That's what I thought. In fact, the correct answer is actually "Wasteland," and you can visit the forums for a detailed analytical breakdown of all the relevant symbolism in play there. At least I can take comfort in the fact that Ruth and George didn't know the answer either, because George actually has to look it up in the back of the book. When he compiles their score, however, he's pleased to announce that they're still a genius, even with one answer wrong. This scene would have been so much funnier if they had been taking one of those Cosmo quizzes. You know, something like, "Are You A Senior Citizen Slut?" or "How Psychotically Desperate Are You?" Putting the book aside, they snuggle together under the covers and prepare to go to sleep. Romantic pillow talk ensues, with George asking if Ruth always moves this fast with every guy and Ruth lying through her man-hungry teeth as she says no. She does, however, feel like "the stars are moving a little faster" for them. "You know," she adds, "like in those movies where they speed everything up." Hee! You just knew there was no way AOL Time Warner was going to let them get away without at least a subtle plug for The Matrix: Reloaded. I mean, if you're gonna pimp Dr. Pepper and power tools all night long, you might as well throw a quick bone to the corporate office while you're at it. Ruth also explains that with Lisa gone, she's begun to realize the importance of grabbing on to the good things in life. This is followed by some singing and some finger nibbling, and Kathy Bates stops just short of using a telestrator to make sure that we all notice that Ruth is still wearing her wedding ring in these shots. After establishing that they both potentially represent the other's last chance for true happiness, they lean in to mack, fogey-style.

Keithius: The time has come, Nato. You must fulfill the prophecy.
Nato: Umokay. So what do I do?
The Clairacle: You must find the one they call "The Recapper." He alone possesses an intimate knowledge of every nook and cranny in the Natrix. Only he can save humanity now.
Nato: Oh, please. What do we need that guy for? I'm The One! I'm all-powerful! I can do anything. Well, assuming the French or the Belgians don't object, of course.
The Meruthian: I resent that.

Back at the Fortress, Claire sits alone in her room, reading a book from back to front for some reason. She's interrupted by the phone, and a quick check of her caller ID reveals that it's a telemarketer selling Crisco and a variety of other lard-based products. Okay, just kidding. It's actually Russell, and she tells him that if he calls again, she's just going to have to change her phone number. In that case, I sincerely hope she's not a Verizon customer. Fucking assholes. Incidentally, if you've ever laughed at one of my jokes, if you've ever posted in my love thread, or if you have even the most basic level of human compassion for an internet addict who's been cast back into the medieval dark ages of 56k dial-up, then I implore you to boycott Verizon and punish them for their abysmally awful customer service practices. I honestly hope everyone at fucking that company gets eaten by a rabid gerbil. Yeah. Can you hear me now, bitches? Claire slams the phone back down without waiting for a response, and then just sits there looking pensive as we fade to white.

Fade back up on the Body Shoppe, where Rico is hard at work on the naked and bloated DGDJ. StC this week is a highly respectable 845, which earned the episode an A. And it figures that our long, national no-StC nightmare of the few episodes would have come to an end on Sars's watch. For the record, they topped out at 7,030, which is an all-time record for corpse-less futility. Hell, even Annika Sorenstam managed a lower number than that. In golf strokes, of course. Not in corpses. I will, however, give them at least partial make-up credit for ending the drought by cramming three corpses into a single scene. In this scene, however, David and Rico are discussing David's relationship problems. Heh. I'd have loved to hear that entire conversation. Rico thinks David should get out, and also admits that he doesn't understand how they've managed to stay together as long as they have. David interprets that as some sort of homophobic insult, but Rico tries to explain that he only meant that he doesn't understand how anyone without kids manages to stay together. And the way he says it (with a specific reference to Vanessa) makes it apparent that he's been asking himself many of these same questions about his own marriage. Then they notice something "chunky" in the blood they've been draining out of the DGDJ, and Rico ups the pressure to suck out some sort of a clot. That might have been an AVM reference, but even though I'd never publicly admit to watching it, and I only let the TiVo record it because the little girl is a Penguins fan with enough sense and good taste to prefer the old-school logo, I'm still tempted to make a joke about the klot in Krazy Koma Kolin on Everwood. Arthur comes downstairs at this point, and blah blah blah he's against the death penalty. Rico, of course, is totally in favor of it. "He's a freaking Dorito," he snipes, pointing to the DGDJ. "Crunch him. They'll make more." Hee! I wonder if Doritos paid for that?

For the third time this week, we get a shot of Claire sitting silently, contemplating what she's about to do. This time, the Ironic Anvil Fairy is helping her watch the baby, and Maya is happily goofing around in the playpen behind her. Maya's rattle? Makes noise. Maya herself? Totally silent. I'm telling you, that kid is spooky.

Cut to a Home Depot, where Ruth's voice-over is urging Cromwell to "get the cordless." At first I thought that was a really clever abortion/umbilical cord pun, but then I remembered that the last time they referenced a Makita power drill, I gave them credit for a clever opera pun, and instead it turns out that they're all just big giant product-placement whores. Seriously. There's like ninety-three million billion neon signs screaming, "Buy Makita! Right Fucking Now!" all over the background of this shot. For God's sake, we're an Apple iBook and a packet of Snackwell's cookies away from this being worse than a Ruben Studdard Ford Explorer skit on American Idol. I mean, at least those guys are honest about the whole thing. Anyway, the less I say about George's "torque"-related sexual innuendos, the better, so let's just jump straight to the heart of the scene. Cromwell suggests that Ruth try holding one of the various drills so that she can understand why he says it "feels good" in his hand. "See what I mean?" he asks. "I do," she replies, before immediately blurting out that she thinks they should get married. Heh. Very clever, Mr. Writer-Man. George is ecstatic that Ruth has proposed, because even though they've only known each other for two weeks, he's totally ready to get married as well. This is followed by a long discussion about the fact that they both hate going to hardware stores alone. "That's what life is, isn't it?" asks Cromwell. "Coming to places like this? And also buying Makita power tools. Oh, and drinking Dr. Pepper. That's what life is." "So let's get married," he continues. "What the hey!" Then he decides to a little drilling of his own right there in the store, as he pulls Ruth close for a kiss and shoves his tongue so far down her throat that he looks like a Halliburton employee inspecting oil wells in southern Iraq. After about fourteen hours, he pulls away and confesses that he's been married before. Six times, in fact. This only fazes Ruth for about three seconds, and then they start kissing again. Damn. Get you a room, you two! Build it yourself if you have to! The less I say about Ruth's "I'll help you keep it charged" sexual innuendo the better, so I'll just mention that George decides to buy the cordless, and move on to the scene.

Which features Nate jogging down the middle of the street and having a vision where Lisa encounters the evil DGDJ as she walks along the beach. The guy tempts her with the old "I lost my puppy" scam, and then we snap back to reality, where Nate stumbles to a halt with a highly disturbed look on his face. Kathy Bates keeps the camera moving away from him at full speed, and the scene ends with Nate and his personal demons receding into the distance. Nice shot.

And I guess Nate wasn't counting on getting a ride home from the camera truck, because we see him walking up the front steps of the Formaldehyde Fortress. Brenda is there waiting for him when he arrives, dressed in a tasteful blouse and calf-length denim skirt. She's all, "I'm your friend, let me help." He's all, "Fuck you, fuck the world, fuck the fact that we kissed, fuck my bad haircut, fuck my constant bad mood, and fuck the fucking Pacific Coast fucking Highway and all my fucking missing persons fucking flyers, you motherfuckers." Although to be fair, he did use fewer "fucks" than that. But not many fewer. "Why the fuck would you want to help me?" he wonders. "Because I care about you," she answers. "And I can't just turn that off." "Sure you can," he snarls. "You've done it before." Ooh, burn. Claire comes out onto the porch with Maya in her arms, and Nate rudely grabs his kid away and storms inside. This leaves Claire and Brenda alone, and Claire rather matter-of-factly asks, "Do you think you could give me a ride? I have to go get an abortion." Heh. Rachel Griffiths nails Brenda's subtle expression of shock and compassion, and she quickly agrees to help. Not to be outdone, Lauren Ambrose delivers a virtuoso eye-roll which says, "I'm really scared, but I'm totally pretending that I'm not." Aww. She's even cute when she's terminating a pregnancy.

Inside, David and Ruth are chatting in the kitchen. Ruth brings up David's participation in the Gay Men's Chorus, in case we've forgotten about it since we last saw him sing back towards the beginning of the season. I'm actually kind of miffed about that, by the way, because I've been dying to use "I Sing The Body Electric" as a show page title this year, and I never got the chance. Oh, well. David segues into some psychobabble about how singing is a nice break from the rest of his problems, and then Ruth blurts out that she thinks Lisa is dead. David agrees, and they both lament the fact that life can be cruel and unkind, especially to "sweet" and "caring" people like Lisa. Neither one of them mentions the fact that in addition to sweet and caring, Lisa was also "psychotic" and "controlling." That's probably for the best. After a brief moment of silence, Ruth tentatively floats her whole marriage idea, but doesn't quite get the response from David that she was hoping for. After pointing out the obvious fact that she hasn't known George for very long, David adds, "It's your decision. I just don't want to see you get hurt." Which is sweet, but Ruth reacts the same way David did when Rico tried to give him advice about his own relationship. In other words, she doesn't really take it in the spirit in which it was intended. David leaves for a chorus rehearsal, and Ruth finds herself alone in the kitchen.

In the car, Brenda and Claire are making awkward small-talk about sushi. Claire prefers "spicy tuna or yellowtail," but doesn't like it when things get "too baroque." "Like The Spider Roll of Ten Thousand Secrets?" asks Brenda. "Exactly," replies Claire, with just the faintest hint of a smile. Aww. She's even cute when she's discussing raw fish.

Cut to the Chorus, which is practicing yet another subtextually relevant tune. Afterwards, Patrick The Little White Sex Dork II comes over to invite David out for a drink. David's response? "Yes, please. Thank you. Oh God, yes." Heh. Looks like the LWSD II's master plan is finally starting to come together. George Peppard would be so proud.

Clinic. Claire and Brenda sit silently in the waiting room until Claire gets called back in a group with three other women. Hmm. All four of them head into a locker room where they change into hospital gowns, and I had absolutely no idea that abortion was a team sport. I can just see the sports pages now: "The Chicago White Coats defeated the DC D&C's last night when Wade Roe, wearing his retro number RU486 jersey, hit a walk-off home run out of the cervix with two outs in the bottom of the third trimester." At least Claire managed to get her own operating room. In any case, the procedure begins with an "ultrasound," which sounds cute and harmless when your co-workers are showing off those little pixilated pictures of the baby they're expecting, but actually turns out to involve shoving a very large plastic tube into what I'm assuming is a very uncomfortable place. I've never been so happy to have a penis in my entire life. Well, okay, that's not really true, but I'd still take "turn your head and cough" over that scary-looking thing any day of the week. "I see you chose Twilight," whispers the nurse, apropos of nothing except the StTM points (1722). She further explains that "Twilight" is a sedative, but then decides instead to knock Claire out by beating her over the head with an anvil when she adds, "You're not really gone, but you're not really here." You know, just like Lisa. Whatever Twilight actually is, it obviously takes effect pretty quickly, because Claire soon sees Ruth hovering over her bed, promising to take good care of her. She's a bit weirded out by this vision, although I think we can all agree that she should just be happy Ruth wasn't curled up to her, cooing like pigeon. She also imagines Russell standing over her, silently watching with a particularly stalkerish expression. I'm almost moved to make a comment about the unfairness of Claire not even giving him a chance to exercise his rights as the father here, but then I had to get up and fetch some Windex to wipe the goop off my TV screen, and the moment passed pretty quickly. Fade to white.

Fade back up on the recovery room, where one of Claire's teammates is pulling a Pete Sampras and puking all over the court. I wonder if that gets scored as an unforced error? Or maybe they were all just talking about sushi in there and things got out of hand. Either way, Claire finally makes it back out to the waiting room, where the same nurse from the first scene is positively delighted to see that she finally managed to score a ride home with someone. The nurse fills Brenda in on all the important instructions (no baths and no tampons), and then sends the girls on their way. I'd stick another "Aww, she's even cute when" joke about Lauren Ambrose in here, but even I have to draw the line at tampons. I'm sure you're all very grateful for that.

The Clairacle: You're cuter than I thought. I can't understand why she thinks you're a stalker.
Aaron: Who?
The Clairacle: Not too bright, though.

Cromwell's Crib. And if the jokes describing the murder of a helpless unborn fetus with a whimsically humorous baseball analogy weren't enough to disgust you into quitting this recap, then the sight of a dripping wet James Cromwell in spandex bicycle shorts should be more than enough to do the trick. On the other hand, at least it's not Ed Begley Jr. There are some things you shouldn't joke about. George and Ruth are hanging out by the pool in his apartment complex, and Ruth is perusing a textbook George has written about "plate tectonics." I'm sure there's a "he makes the earth move for her" joke in there somewhere, but do you really care enough for me to go looking for it? Ruth notices that the book was published by the University of Maryland press, and since that's where MY Bobo went to college, I'm taking that one as a shout-out as well. Ruth, however, turns the whole thing into an East Side/West Side rapper feud and worries that he's "just stopping by" out here in Cali. "I'm thinking we should slow down the marriage plans," she continues. "I know I must seem confused, but it's only because I am." George, because he's the perfect distillation of everything Ruth could ever want in a man, takes this news with cheerful equanimity, and pleasantly responds that he has no other "prospects" and doesn't want any, so there's no reason to rush into anything. Then there's a quick bit about why there's no picture of him on the dust jacket of his book, and because he's the perfect distillation of everything Ruth could ever want in a man, we all immediately become suspicious that he's secretly evil, or still actually married, or horribly and tragically flawed in some other subtextually relevant and deeply anvillicious fashion. I mean, "plate tectonics"? Why not just put a huge sign over his head that says "Powerful Forces Lurk Beneath This Man's Surface"?

Little White Sex Pad. David and Patrick sit on the sofa, sipping wine and bitching about Keith and David's troubles. "I'm so bored with this kind of happiness," complains David. "I think I'm ready for some new unhappiness." The LWSD, however, is working the whole "sensitive and supportive third party" angle right the hilt. "I want you to know," he says, with sincerity practically dripping from the dorky corners of his mouth, "that more than anything, I take you and your situation with Keith very seriously. And if you canbe happy with Keith, I want you to be. Do you know what I'm saying?" Boy, does he. David practically leaps across the couch to grab the wineglass out of Patrick's hand and plant a kiss on him that would have made Kerr Smith cry like a little girl. Aww. I have to admit, I'm kind of liking these two together.

Locust Landing. Claire is recuperating on Brenda's sofa, while Brenda delivers the ultimate shout-out of the episode by asking, "What do you think of my new house? It's kind of gross, isn't it?" I've been asking people that exact same question lately, because it's been two weeks already and I'm STILL trying to get the smell of the owner's dogs out of the carpet. But then I go out and have a cigarette on my fancy new balcony and mentally rehearse a few good lines I can use to pick up chicks by offering to show them the fireplace in my bedroom, and I end up feeling much better about the place. Now if I could only remember where I packed all my underwear. That's a joke, by the way. Sort of. "I used to wonder when I'd get there, you know?" sighs Brenda. "To the grown-up place? I almost got there with Nate. And now, here I am." "You're still in love with my brother, aren't you?" replies Claire, which seems like an excessively personal question to ask someone who was just nice to enough to non-judgmentally drive you to get an abortion. Brenda, however, isn't bothered in the least, and she insists that she's absolutely, one hundred percent not in love with Nate "or anything like that." Of course, that whole sentiment would have been a lot more convincing if she hadn't been repeatedly doodling "Mrs. Brenda Chenowith-Fisher" in her notebook the entire time, but that's a different story. The conversation shifts to Lisa, with Claire observing that things are "so fucked up, with Lisa beingwhatever she is." "You know what was weird about Lisa?" she asks, with the perhaps unintentional use of the past tense. "I think she really liked me." Ouch. I sure hope that one wasn't a shout-out. If liking Claire is weird, I don't ever want to be normal again. "I mean, she was fucked up, too, don't get me wrong," she continues. "But it was a different kind of fucked up from our family. It was a mostly friendly kind of fucked up." Which really is the best kind, I suppose. Claire ends the conversation by apologizing to Brenda for liking the other woman in Nate's life, and then Brenda hops up to go make some pasta. "I don't think I could ever eat again," mumbles Claire, as she curls herself back up on the sofa. Aww. She's even cute when she's got cramps.

At Nate &Lisa's Hair Today, Gone Three Episodes Ago Apartment, Nate and Maya are watching Sesame Street. Elmo? Makes noise. Grover? Makes noise. Maya? Quieter than the last girl I had sex with. And she's got more head, too. Nate, meanwhile, is busy conjuring up a big old shout-out to Sars's superior recapping skills, as he visualizes Lisa stripping off her clothes and committing suicide by walking into the ocean all Awakening-style. Then he goes downstairs and places a mysterious phone call. Hmm. Who could he be talking to?

As far as David is concerned, however, the time for talking is over. He and the LWSD II are rolling around in Patrick's bed, fumbling with each other's clothes. Ever the considerate young man, Patrick offers to stop whenever David tells him to. I have to wonder, however, if the appropriate time to ask that question might have been before he started licking David's chest. It doesn't really matter much, though, because David has no intention of telling him to stop.