|
||||
Samantha's burning the midnight oil at Williams Global when she's interrupted by a call from Peter asking if she's seen the most recent issue of Women's Style magazine. Peter's been a valued subscriber for many years now and gets his copy hot off the presses. Of course, she hasn't seen it because she's been "weeping" over the ratings...er, I mean, "the fourth-quarter numbers" for DeadInTheWater.com. Peter will explain, once he gets there, but under no circumstances, should she seek out the periodical herself. How can she resist? She starts poking around the receptionist's desk, and what do you know? There's the issue, right there under the files. On the cover is a glamour shot of Heather with the coverline, "The woman who rescued Dress2K" And we didn't even know it was in jeopardy. Funny thing, how Heather was allowed to come back to work only a day or two ago and somehow she got to be the subject of a cover story -- something that usually requires a good two to three months to put together for publication. And don't say that the timeline on the show is longer than ours, because in a few minutes Heather's going to sigh over all the horrible things that have happened since Richard died, a month ago. And on one final note, she must have done a real shitty job of rescuing the company if Samantha's boo-hooing over the lousy fourth-quarter numbers. Anyway, Samantha's not pleased. "BITCH!" is the one thing that pops to mind.
Ah, another coincidence: Heather just happens to be walking around the corner looking all pasty white. Samantha demands an explanation. "Too revealing?" Heather asks. She told them over and over again that this wasn't Playboy -- nor the Journal of Plastic Surgery, for that matter. She wonders if there's too much boobage. I swear that's what she said: "boobage." "The boob is me," Samantha admits, "for allowing you back into this company." Heather's just trying to take credit for all of Samantha's hard work. Hard work that led to weepable fourth-quarter numbers, I might add. Heather reminds her that what's good for 2DumbChicks.com is good for them both. Besides, Samantha's a number cruncher while Heather has "panache." Panache: (a) Distinctive and stylish elegance; (b) a feathered plume on a helmet. I'm going to assume Heather meant the latter. Samantha calls Heather an "outsider." Ouch. And Heather counters that, even dressed up, Samantha is "a tasteless hanger-on." Gee whiz, these girls have potty mouths. Were they both raised by sailors? They don't fight like sailors, that's for sure. That nasty "hanger-on" comment is enough to elicit a slap across the face from Samantha. Stunned, Heather strikes back with an open-hand stinger to the head, and then grabs a fistful of hair before shoving Samantha into one of those comfy reception-area chairs. Samantha gains some leverage and the two go careening off the ropes and onto the desk. Peter suddenly enters and like a clueless WWF ref walks into the fray and gets sucker-punched by Heather in the process. The two continue to scratch and hiss as Peter finally wedges himself between them. Heather alleges that she tried to make it work -- she really did. As she leaves, Samantha is still champing at the bit. Actually, now that I say that, she really does have equine features -- the teeth, especially. Those horsy chompers don't turn Peter off at all. He's so turned on, he's ready to ride her right then and there. Instead they err on the side of discretion and go at it on the boardroom table. Just like that, Peter's humping the help again.
We pick up with a little beefcake montage of Chandler blasting his quads and...umm...obliterating his pecs. This may be one bit of acting he can pull off convincingly. Edward the Butler arrives with a glass of OJ, and informs Master Chandler that Heather has decided to spend the day in bed. Edward's actually got a pretty cool accent and sounds just like Obi-Wan Kenobi (the Sir Alec Guiness version, of course).
We find Heather right where Edward said she'd be -- in bed. She's on the phone with her publicist: she's happy with the Women's Style cover spread, but she wants bigger magazines and name interviews. If she gets Matt Lauer, Heather will be a very happy girl. Doesn't sound too hard. For a groundbreaking idea like selling clothes over the internet, I'm sure that Annie Leibowitz, P.J. O'Rourke, and Vanity Fair will be pounding down her door any day now. We could guarantee the cover of Talk, but she'd have to do a Miramax movie first. Before hanging up, Heather demands that Samantha get no press whatsoever. Chandler comes in, still sweaty, and wants to know if she's okay. She's just been sleepier these days. It's probably depression. Just in case Chandler and the audience have both forgotten, she reminds him that Richard's death and the miscarriage are two really bad things to have happen in a month. He reminds her that she's not alone in all of this, and she marvels at how amazingly sensitive he is. Here's his pep talk: he's got his aviation project and she's back at DoYouReallyCareAnymore.com, so they're both going to focus on their work and keep their priorities straight. GO TEAM! Woohoo! Where are the cheerleaders? And what about the times where she's not feeling so fresh or she needs to talk? "Then you can come to me," Chandler offers. "That's the most amazing invitation," Heather declares. That's also the second time she's said "amazing" in the past thirty seconds.
Jack, Laurie, David, and Jenny return from a rousing game of doubles tennis. Laurie chides Jenny for missing such an easy lob to lose the game. Jack suspects that they took a dive. Jenny cops to losing on purpose in order to butter them up for her pitch: she thinks that David is such a great lay that he deserves to be promoted to Junior VP of partying down. After all, he's been co-managing the club with Laurie and Jenny for almost a month now. From David's shocked expression, it's obvious that this is the first he's heard of it. Laurie and Jack aren't so sure, either. Jenny attempts to persuade them with the logic that she's been clean and sober for almost twenty-four hours now and it's all thanks to David. Jack promises to think about it. Jenny, a horrible judge of character, hops around giggling, knowing that the promotion is "in the bag." She and David get a little smooching in while Laurie lurks inside, staring at the two through the window.