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Daniel lets Betty review a hotel for Mode. After a lot of rigmarole with Sad Sack Walter, he ends up coming along. He also acts like he's seven years old, and from Mars instead of Queens. He doesn't like Mode Betty, you see? Betty -- instead of taking this cue to get the hell out of this dead-end relationship -- assures him that she's not going anywhere. She also writes a great review that Daniel can't use, because she isn't writing for the Mode readership. I don't know if we're supposed to be on her side in this, but I mostly just found it naïve of her to turn in a piece that's utterly unlike anything else in the magazine and then get sobby when it can't be run. Lucky for Betty, Salma is her fairy godmother, and plans to run it in her magazine. Oh, and Salma also slept with Daniel, who is predictably in love with her now, even though she is a self-proclaimed sexaholic with a boyfriend. Wil spends the entire episode sweet-talking the Texan owner of what is clearly Wal-Mart in a attempt to get him to buy some ads in the magazine: she succeeds in that endeavor, and there may be a new romance afoot. She earned it, too, because he dragged her to Hogs and Heifers. Hilda goes to Justin's dad, Santos, to get the money to pay Leah Lawyer. Santos is kind of a ne'er-do-well with a gambling problem, but he gives her the cash at great personal cost, and seems to want to make an effort to be more involved with the kid. Justin is doubtful. And finally, we all learned that an episode without much Marc or Amanda means...an episode that's not nearly as fun as the others. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
We open at the Mode offices, with a totally soaked Betty standing in Daniel's office. He, quite reasonably, would like to know why she's dripping on his bagel. She explains that she was up on the NYW floors when the sprinklers went off. My question would be why she didn't go back and get me a dry fucking bagel, but Daniel is a nicer boss than I am, and also uses language appropriate for the family hour. Betty explains that she was getting Salma's autograph on her totally "inspired" book, Girls Like It On Top. Daniel sniffs that it doesn't seem particularly inspired to him. Betty dabs at his bagel with a napkin and tells him that, duh, the title is a metaphor. Daniel just looks at her face and points out -- nicely -- that she has mascara, um, all over it. Does he have any messages? Betty tells him that the third freelance writer in a row has turned down an assignment to review a new hotel. Daniel is annoyed -- apparently, this kid used to write for "an airline magazine," and now "he thinks he's Katie Couric." Dude, airline magazines are delightful. I love the SkyMall. Betty offers to try to track down another freelancer, but Daniel is too distracted by a wet Salma Hayek marshalling her troops in his conference room to tell her what to do.
Daniel storms into the conference room and demands to know what Salma's doing. She can't take over his conference room! "Your Daddy said I could," Salma tells him. "Mr. Meade didn't okay it with me," Daniel tells her, a little patronizingly, and she retorts that, in that case, he should take it up with Bradford. Daniel gets perturbed that they're moving his Big Magazine Mock-Ups all around, so Salma maturely reacts by throwing one of them on the ground and making derisive comments his "half-naked, emaciated" cover models, and his lead story, "'Ten Ways to Lose Thighs and Get Guys.'" Never mind the fact that this sounds like an article better suited for Cosmo! I need to know how to do both those things! Daniel wonders whether her lead story is "Ten Ways to Treat a Guy Like Dirt, So That You Wind Up a Lonely, Desperate Cat Lady." Okay, I DON'T want to read that one. Salma rightly notes that his title is a bit long. "But thanks for the pitch!"
While this pissing contest is going down, Marc eavesdrops on Bradford and Wil, as Bradford convinces Wil to play host to "Ted LeBeau, the president of Beau-Mart." Wil sniffs that Beau-Mart is the "fashion equivalent of ravioli," but Bradford reminds her that they need his ad dollars -- he's only in from Texas for the weekend, and she's the only person at Mode who can talk him into it. "And yet I'm still only the creative director," Wil reminds him pointedly. Bradford ignores this -- maybe the fact that he's probably about ten minutes away from getting dinged for trying to cover up Fey's "death" is distracting him -- and adds that Ted will be more receptive to "a beautiful woman." Wil can't argue with that, and agrees to "charm the denim chaps right off him." And knowing Wil, I imagine that she shall.
Suarez Manor. Hilda strolls into the kitchen in pants that are so tight it almost seems like she's having trouble walking in them. She seems bummed, and Ignacio notes that the last time she was this quiet, she was about to tell him that she was pregnant. This time, she says that she knows where they can get the five grand to pay for Leah Lawyer. Ignacio pauses in making his sandwiches and hopes she didn't tell Leah that he's a murderer. Hilda sighs that of course she didn't, and besides, that whole thing was self-defense. "We don't judge you," she says. Ignacio appreciates that, and finally asks where she plans to get the cashola. "From Santos," Hilda tells him. I presume that's Justin's father. Ignacio does not like this plan at all, but Hilda reminds him that they have no choice. It's so hard to get away with murder these days.
At Mode, Betty is reading her email and twirling her gum around her finger when Salma comes up with something for her. Betty -- say it with me -- spits her gum out into her hand. Of course she does. The unfortunate truth about this particular episode is that Betty spends a good portion of it acting like she had a brain tumor for breakfast since the last time we saw her. At any rate, Salma gives her a dry autographed copy of her book, and Betty is thrilled to have it. Salma also needs Betty's help: she'd like Betty to read an article she's working on, since Betty is the key demographic of NYW (being a "regular girl," rather than a "hipster fashionista."). Betty is totally excited, naturally, and reads the headline of the article aloud: "Sexaholics: Spotting Them and Stopping Them." I would also read that article. Betty wonders if she's qualified to give an opinion on this topic, but Salma assures her that she is. I don't know why Betty wouldn't be qualified to give an opinion on an article about Sexaholics. She works for one, after all.
While they're going back and forth about it -- Betty tells Salma in passing that she wrote "a report" about Salma while she was at Queen's College. Like...a book report? I would have called it a "paper," but okay. Daniel notices his arch-rival trying to bogart his assistant and comes out to investigate. Salma tells him that she's merely taking advantage of Betty's intelligence. "Which I'm sure you take advantage of on a daily basis," she finishes, smiling passive-aggressively. Daniel, it's clear, has had enough of her conference-room-and-assistant-stealing shenanigans, and tells Betty that he's got a lot for her to do. Betty tells Salma she'll help her out later, and trots after Daniel into his office.
"She wants me," Daniel declares about Salma. "Excuse me?" Betty asks. And, seriously. Eric Maibus is totally cute, and if I worked at Mode, I would probably put on my formal shorts and prance past him hourly, but come ON. Not everyone is dying to get on your jock, Meade. Betty says that she didn't really pick up on this. "Come on! Sexaholics? That was clearly a jab at me. She gave you the article because she knew I'd see it," Daniel says. Betty is pretty sure that he's reading too much into this. Daniel reminds her that he KNOWS women, and Salma? She's playing games. "It's fine. I'll play games right back," he announces, firmly. Oh, this is SO not going to work as he has planned. Betty sighs and wants to know if he has any ACTUAL work for her. And he totally does: she needs to pick up his dry-cleaning, and order him some office supplies. Betty writes this down and storms out, pissed. Which...okay, I get it, because Salma was letting her read stuff, but guess what, Betty? You're the ASSISTANT. Unfortunately, part of your job description involves ordering office supplies and picking up dry-cleaning. It's called "paying your dues." Daniel, to his credit, looks guilty about the busy work and comes after her and gives her one more thing to do: that hotel review. Betty is thrilled. "Shut up, really?" she asks. Daniel says that it'll be fun: the hotel is in SoHo, and she should just go down there and get started. In the background, Salma overhears this and smiles. "Wait. This weekend?" Betty asks. Daniel nods. Betty looks alarmed.
Down in the closet, Betty tells Christina that Walter planned a romantic weekend for them in Atlantic City. This weekend! When she has this assignment! Wow, I would be so much more sympathetic if I didn't want to kill Walter in cold, cold blood. If, in fact, I liked Walter and cared about their relationship, I would suggest Betty bring him along for fancy New York hotel sex! Room service! Pay Per View! Massages! Hello! Sounds great to me. Christina tells her that they can go to Atlantic City any time, and also suggests bringing Walter along for the assignment. But Betty is worried that Walter will distract her, and Christina notes that she thinks Betty's already made her decision, but feels bad about it. Don't feel bad, sugar! Drop the zero and get with the hero, as the wise man Vanilla Ice would say.
It is at this point that Amanda swings in, wearing yet another pair of formal shorts. She tells "Braveheart" to put together a rack of Beau-Mart clothes for the meeting, and for a second, I think "Braveheart" is a reference to Betty having gotten mascara all over her face. Then I realized it was a Scottish crack, directed at Christina. At this, Betty suggests Christina check out the "Kelly Clarkson" line, which has comfy elastic waists! Amanda rolls her eyes at the thought and turns to Betty, saying that she heard about the writing assignment. She then advises Betty to "take the Betty-Wear down a notch. The human piñata look may be all the rage in Queens, but in SoHo, they will arrest you for crimes against humanity. Have fun!" And I hope you enjoyed that brief moment of bitchery, because that's the last we'll see of Amanda this week, which is unfortunate, since I wanted to find out how she's doing in the wake of breaking up with Daniel.
Instead of that, we get my worst nightmare. A close-up of Walter, whining that he doesn't get to go to Atlantic City. Betty explains that this assignment is a huge deal for her career, and Walter actually hits his head against the door jam as she moans that he got them tickets for the live stage show of The Price Is Right. "And you know I rule at Plinko!" Hilda spies on them from the living room, as Betty very unenthusiastically invites Walter to come stay with her at the hotel. Walter WHINES so, so nasally -- like, dude, get your adenoids checked -- that he doesn't WANT to stay at some STUPID NEW YORK HOTEL; he's going to ATLANTIC CITY and he's WINNING a DINETTE SET. With this, he storms out. Is it mean if I admit that I hope he gets hit by a bus? At this, Betty looks pained, and Hilda tells her that "that wasn't much of an invitation." Oh, mind your own business. Betty says that Atlantic City isnât going anywhere. "No, honey, but your boyfriend might," Hilda responds. ONLY IF MY PRAYERS ARE ANSWERED.
50 Prince Hotel. Betty sort of tosses her roll-y bag down the stairs to the hotel's sunken lobby. Why does she have a roll-y bag if she's only there for two nights? How many sweater vests is she bringing? She enters the lobby, and tells herself there's nothing to be afraid of: it's just a hotel and she's there to do her job. She goes up to the receptionist -- who looks just like my friend Dave, if my friend Dave were a gay hotel receptionist in New York City, which he is not, unless he is living a very double life -- and checks in. Dave compliments her orthodontia ("bright," he says, blankly) and, once he notices that she's from Mode, announces that they're delighted to have her. Take a seat, he invites her, saying that a bellman will be right with her. But don't most reviewers make reservations anonymously? So they get the same quality of service that the regular schmoes get? You know, I have to say, I have some issues with this episode. It's the first one for me that really didn't hang together in terms of the little details like this. This show is usually smarter than that. Anyway, Betty reaches out to grab a green apple from the reception desk, but Dave stops her. "That isn't real," he says. Betty smiles and puts it back. You'd think she'd be hip to phony foodstuffs, seeing as she's got all those plastic grapes at home. So, she goes and takes a seat in this round, Plexiglas seat, which of course tips over and rolls all over the floor, with her caught in it. That is so Susan Meyer. , Betty will fall naked into the bushes in front of her cute plumber neighbor.
While Betty's rolling around, Daniel is examining Salma's oeuvre back at the office. Salma runs into him in the hallway, as he's paging through Girls Like It On Top. "You know that's not a pop up book, right?" she inquires, wryly. He retorts that he's writing an article on women who "tease their way to the top," and asks if he can get a quote from her. Salma scoffs that if he thinks she teased her way to the top, then he doesn't know her at all. "Daniel Meade, you are a presumptuous, chauvinistic [long string of Spanish I don't understand, but all of which sounds very insulting]," she says, smiling, and storms off. Daniel just kind of giggles.
Over at the hotel, Betty is out of cash, and so she tips the bellman with her MetroCard. Oh God, this is going to be a long night. He thanks her, weakly, and she flings herself on the round bed to admire the room. "I'm in heaven," she says.
"I'm in HELL," Wil announces back at the office, as she pages through a rack of Beau-Mart clothes. "Imagine working in a sweatshop and not even being proud of what you're making," she sighs. Christina tries to interest her in terrible outfit after terrible outfit, with very little luck. Finally, Marc comes in and gives Wil the scoop on Ted Lebeau: Three kids, four ex-wives, five golden retrievers. Wil asks Marc to "sprinkle a little Lone Star State" around her office to make Ted feel at home, and wonders if Nico has called her back. "Not yet," he says. Wil asks if he's certain that he sent the care package to the boarding school? Marc swears that he did. Wil asks him to please call Nico again.
Betty is in her room, surrounded by Modes, trying to write her article. She does not have a knack for writing, from what I can tell. She does, however, have a fondness for adjectives. She calls down and orders a massage.
Back in Wil's office, Marc is weighed down with a bunch of Texan hoo-ha, including a set of longhorns, and three ten gallon hats. Wil is trussed up in a truly terrible blue polyester suit. Marc gives her a long look. "You look like a bank manager," he says, and she kind of does. Wil notes that she can't imagine many bank managers are wearing La Perla undergarments. At the mention of ladies' underthings, Marc looks grossed out. He reaches out to smooth Wil's collar, but the polyester shocks him and he gives up on her and starts Texas-ing up the place. He notes that he read an interview in a whiskey magazine in which "Tex extols the virtues of rye," and plops some Jim Beam on the table.
Wil and Marc get the call that Ted has arrived at the magazine. Marc goes to greet him at the elevator, and hands Wil a western-style rug. She leans over to arrange it on the floor, giving Ted LeBeau -- who is surprisingly dishy -- a nice gander at her ass. "Well, HOW-DEE," he says, totally pleased. Wil leaps up, and greets him. He likes her suit. "The career woman on a budget," he nods. Wil grins and says, truthfully, that it's like nothing she owns. Ted sighs appreciatively that it looks good on her, as he wanders around her office, twirling a spur here and there. He points at the longhorns above the Fantastic Credenza. "You a fan of college ball?" he asks, totally flummoxing Wil. Ted points at the longhorns. "Longhorns? You went to UT Austin?" Wil twitters that Marc did. "Yes! I did! It was so...Southern. Go Longhorns! Yay!" he agrees, and, instead of giving the Longhorns sign, gives the "call me" hands. Marc is so my gay TV boyfriend. I just love him. Apparently, Michael Urie also went to UT, so that's doubly cute. "God bless America," he finishes, awkwardly. Ted notices a photo of Nico and Wil on the desk, and wonders if this is her child. "Yes. It is," Wil says shortly and tries to get down to business. Ted isn't sure that her "swanky magazine" is the right fit for Beau-Mart. "Why don't you convince me?" he asks.
At the hotel, Betty accidentally orders Oceans Eleven Inches on Pay Per View. Tee hee. And enter Sven, her tall, hunky masseur (Betty's terrified that they sent her a boy, but apparently, all the girl masseuses were taken). He directs her to disrobe. I think I've seen porn that starts very much like this.
At the office, Daniel is reading Girls Like It On Top, while Salma and a staffer feel each other's breasts outside his window. When he catches wind of this, he leaps up out of his chair and sneaks up on them like he's in the midst of clandestine guerrilla warfare. It's very funny. He strolls into the conference room just as Salma tells everyone that she totally can't feel the difference. Daniel chuckles that he didn't get the invitation to the slumber party. "Did I miss the pillow fight?" he leers. Salma snappily informs him that they're working on an article on breast reconstruction for CANCER SURVIVORS, YOU ASSHOLE. Daniel wonders privately whether to die there, or in his office, and leaves.
Betty tries to take notes during her massage. Seriously, what is wrong with that girl? There's a knock on the door just as she asks if Sven is "rolfing" her. Sven rolls his eyes and goes to answer the door. It is, of course, Walter, holding flowers and booze. At least he brought flowers and booze. Let's all remember that when we get enraged with him in about five minutes.
Queens. Hilda tracks down Santos, who is playing dominos. And also with my HEART, because he is really hot. She drags him off so they talk privately: she heard he won a bunch of money, and, um, well, she needs it. "For Ignacio," he says. She looks surprised, but he points out that their neighborhood is full of gossips. "You heard I won money, I heard you need money. How much?" he asks. Hotly. Hilda tells him, and reminds him that she's never asked him for a penny, but they're in trouble now, and she needs his help. "You know how hard this is for me," she says. Santos hands her a giant wad of cash. "I didn't get a chance to deposit it into my checking account," he shrugs when she wonders if he always carries around a huge wad of cash. Hilda retorts that she didn't know they offered checking at the OTB. Santos tells Hilda that he'll give her the rest of the money later, but in return, he wants to see Justin. "I want to see my son." And we act out on this, but who in the world didn't get that he was obviously Justin's dad? His hot, hot dad.
Over at the hotel, Walter is predictably het up about Betty's decadent evening. She swears that it was just a massage. "I don't like strange, tall, muscle guys touching you," Walter yelps, as Sven leaves. Walter fronts like he's going to kick Sven's ass out in the hallway, but Betty holds him back. IT'S A MASSAGE, WALTER. Are you from MARS? Betty asks what happened to Atlantic City, and Walter explains that he got off the bus at Secaucus, and he just couldn't go. "I just want to spend time with you, Betty," he nasals. She hugs him, and he tells her that it doesn't matter if they're in Atlantic City, or "a really nice hotel room. WOW." He looks around appreciatively, and then flings himself on the round bed. Betty smiles and tells him that she's glad he's there, but this weekend is all about work for her. Remember? Walter sort of grunts in agreement. She tells him that she's changing for dinner in the hotel's three star restaurant, and then informs him that he needs to change, too. He can't wear his t-shirt to this place. Walter points out that rock stars wear t-shirts to award shows all the time, but Betty counters that he is not a rock star. "You play flute in a Jethro Tull tribute band," she says. Which is an important role to play in a Jethro Tull tribute band, I'll give him that. She announces that they're buying him a dress shirt, as she goes to the closet and takes out her outfit for the evening: a totally hideous aqua taffeta bridesmaid-dress-ish number. "Wow," Walter breathes appreciatively, because he apparently is blind as well as annoying. Betty announces that it is her prom dress, even though we learned a few weeks ago that she never went to prom.
Elsewhere, Marc, Wil, and Ted mosey through the Mode offices, as Wil tries to talk the Texan into buying ad space by reminding him that lots of couture designers are making lines for discount brand stores. This is all true. She also thinks she can talk a designer into doing a line for Beau-Mart. Dude. Wil is good at her job. That's a really good way to talk him into the ad buy. Ted says that he'd like to discuss it over dinner, and she tells him that she made reservations at Babbo. But Ted's got somewhere else in mind....
Cut to Hogs and Heifers (which is the bar that fine film Coyote Ugly was based on. Basically, it's a Western-themed joint with hot waitresses who dance on the bar and where the female customers regularly take off their bras and hang them on the wall. If you go, don't wear YOUR La Perla unless you're willing to part with it after about nine body shots.) In fact, as Wil, Marc, and Ted enter, a wayward bra flies at them and lands on Marc's shoulder. He flicks it off as though it were a deadly scorpion.
At a much nicer, but possibly less amusing, establishment across town, Betty is trying to talk her way into a table at the hotel's restaurant. "But we're only fifteen minutes late," she says to the maitre d'. It must be noted that she looks insane in her prom dress. It actually makes Betty look more than unfashionable -- it makes her seem totally unobservant. See, this is the problem I am starting to have with this show. Betty's very smart, right? And she's surrounded by sharply dressed Modeites all day every day. Surely, she's sharp enough to know that her prom dress is not quite right. Even if she's not interested in fashion, if she was clever enough to pick out a totally acceptable dress shirt for Walter, wouldn't she be clever enough to know that a plain skirt and black sweater, with decent heels, would be better than the prom dress? She's clearly been reading Mode, because we just saw her surrounded by old copies. She's in story meetings. She's down in the Closet every day. I understand that part of the conceit of the show is that she's "Ugly" Betty. But after a certain point, she is just beginning to look remarkably clueless. Not about fashion -- I don't expect her to show up in the latest cocktail frock from Marchesa -- but about appropriateness. She looks...like she just escaped from the asylum in that dress. And I get that the show is over the top, but MY GOD. Anyway, the maitre d' is totally snotty about giving away their table, and Walter is more than ready to just give up and go upstairs and snuggle, but Betty puts her bitch on and informs the hostess that she is there from Mode. MODE! And they are promptly seated. It appears that Walter is horrified by Betty's little fit, but I actually found it refreshing. She wants to do a good job, and she wants the table she reserved. Are we supposed to agree with Walter that she should have accepted that their table had been given away, and slunk upstairs to watch cable with him? Because...I'm not going to agree with that.
In Queens -- that far off land -- Hilda gives Ignacio the wad of cash from Santos. Ignacio would rather not be indebted to Santos "after everything he put [Hilda] through." Hilda sort of shrugs. "What did you have to do for the money?" Ignacio asks. Hilda tells him that Santos is coming to see Justin. Tonight. Ignacio snorts that she's asking for trouble, and Hilda totally rolls her eyes. I'm kind of with her. She's making this sacrifice so that Ignacio doesn't get hauled back to a Mexican prison. I don't see him coming up with any bright, money-making ideas.
Back at Mode, the empowered ladies of NYW are hard at work in Daniel's conference room. Salma, gesticulating wildly, accidentally walks right into a caterer, who's coming in with carts of Indian food. Which none of the Empowered Ladies ordered. Salma pats the caterer in apology and looks over at Daniel in his glass office. She smiles. He still has his nose stuck in her book. Daniel is a slow reader.
Salma fixes Daniel a tray, and brings it into his office. "You obviously made it to the tenth chapter, where I mention Indian food as an aphrodisiac," she purrs. Daniel apologizes for the "whole breast thing," and tells her that he's enjoying her book. "But do you really think men are going to be obsolete in a thousand years?" he asks. Salma absolutely does. "Maybe sooner! That doesn't mean I wouldn't miss you," she tells him. Daniel starts telling her how impressed he is by all her accomplishments, but chokes on how hot the food is. Which is funny, seeing as he ordered it. Salma waits for him to recover, and then asks him if he "rides." Daniel furrows his brow. "'Ride' what?" he asks. Why, her motorcycle, of course!
Hotel restaurant. Because the chi-chi trendy menu is transparent, we can see Walter's flustered face as he reads it. "Red wine reduction. Why would I want my food reduced?" he wonders. Betty thinks that perhaps it has less calories? I think she really needs to start reading the magazine which employs her, simply so that she doesn't say those sorts of things if and when Daniel takes her out with clients, the way Wil does Marc. See, that's another thing. Marc is basically the Betty equivalent in Wil's office. Yet she can take him places -- as she does in this episode -- and he can TRULY assist her in a way that's helpful to her, while Daniel does (or can) not do the same with Betty. She's smart and valuable to him in many ways, but I think that in this arena -- representing Mode in public, which is absolutely part of her job -- she is a liability, and she doesn't seem to realize it, or care. Sure, the Mode POV on things like clothing and beauty may be shallow and ridiculous, but she does work there, and as someone who is at times a public face for the company, it is part of her job to represent its values, whatever they may be. If she is morally opposed to them -- which she doesn't really seem to be -- she didn't have to take the job. If she wants to keep the job -- and I can see that she needs money -- maybe it would be smart for her to take a good look at the way she's coming across at work. Not that I would want or expect her to pull on the formal shorts, but I don't think it's insane to expect her to not wear AN AQUA TAFFETA GOWN to ANY restaurant, especially when she's there as a Mode employee. Anyway. Betty suggests to Walter that they get the tasting menu, and then gets back to taking notes. She wonders if Walter would call the place romantic, or appropriate for business? Walter says that he would call it pretentious. Which is not untrue, but he's so annoying. Betty seems to think so, too, since she snaps that she's never done this before, and she'd really appreciate his help. "I don't know anything about this stuff," he tells her, and repeats that he really wants to go upstairs and watch a little cable. "I can help you review the TV reception," he offers. Betty gives him a dirty look. "What?" Walter whines.
Meanwhile, over at Hogs and Heifers, Ted is ordering a pitcher of beer. Marc asks the waitress if they serve food, and she trots over to let him read her boobs, as the menu is printed on her tank-top. "Anything non-dairy?" Marc wonders. It is here that I must note that he looks about as comfortable at Hogs and Heifers as Betty does at 50 Prince. Ted orders nachos -- with extra chili -- hot wings, and tells the waitress to keep the beer coming. He asks Wil if she likes hot wings, and she gamely responds that they are her favorite snacks! "Especially on Super Bowl Sunday!" As one bartender leaves, another comes up and lies on the bar in front of them, putting a shot glass of tequila in her navel. Marc looks as though he's been asked to drink human blood. "Marc, you can leave, darling," Wil tells him, and he more or less runs out. Ted shakes his head, and does the body shot himself.
Across town, at a bar that looks kind of like the NYC equivalent of Shooters on Melrose Place, Daniel and Salma play pool. She is, predictably, kicking his ass. "I play to win," she tells him. "So keep that wallet out. I'm gonna empty it. Come on. Show me your rack," she purrs. Daniel looks equal parts turned on and freaked out.
Hotel restaurant. The meal is predictably farcically nouvelle cuisine, all tiny pieces of baby corn and wee droplets of pâté. Betty and Walter try to both figure it out, and force it down, as Betty attempts to find more over-the-top adjectives to describe the meal. Walter's contribution is that it's "like eating shaving cream." I suspect he would know firsthand.
In Queens, Ignacio is watching his telenovela. In it, the girl who wears the cape is cuddling the special-needs soccer player. I wonder if he's the father of last week's soccer ball baby. Instead of watching her stories, Hilda looks out the window. I suspect Justin is getting stood up. So does Justin, who assures her that it's okay, and Ignacio agrees, calling Santos a "speeding train coming right at [her]." A speeding train of HOTNESS.
Over at Shooters, Daniel admires Salma's ass. "Why do you think I'm a tease?" she finally asks. "Why do you think I'm a sexaholic?" he retorts. She doesn't answer, and they continue to play pool. Salma scratches and Daniel -- who is not always as dumb as he looks -- wonders why she threw the game. "Because your ego was getting bruised," she smiles. Daniel reminds her that she never answered his question about being a sexaholic. Salma smiles. "I never said that," she tells him. "Wasn't the article about me?" Daniel asks. Salma rolls her eyes. "You are so narcissistic. What makes you think it was not about me?" she asks. And kisses him. Then they do it in a nearby photo-booth.
Back in Queens, Hilda is PISSED. She's going out to find Santos. "Keep watching! I might be on the eleven o'clock news," she says, pointing at the TV threateningly. On the telenovela, everyone squeals with glee at the idea of Hilda getting hauled down to the pokey.
La Hotel. In Betty and Walter's defense, the food does look terrible. Walter can't take it, and whines, "I'm NOT eating this. It's GROSS. I want REAL FOOD, BETTY." Because he's nine-years-old. Betty hisses at him to keep it down, but he screams at the waiter to bring him a burger and fries. Betty is rightly appalled by his behavior. "Do you know how important this review is to me? And now you're sabotaging it because you never liked me working at Mode!" she yells. Walter blinks that he just doesn't like this place, and he doesn't like pretending to be somebody that he's not. "We don't belong places like this," he tells her. Betty sniffs that maybe he's the one who doesn't belong. They stare at each other, and Walter finally agrees. He doesn't belong. And he doesn't like Betty from Mode. He likes Betty from Queens. "Why don't you tell her to give me a call when she shows up," he yells, taking off his dress shirt, throwing it on the chair, and storming out. Everyone stares at them. Betty wants to die; I just want her to kill him.
Later, alone in her hotel room, Betty works on her review. It's not going very well. To wit: she considers including the phrase, "scrumptiously posh." After staring at her first half-paragraph, she tells herself that "this isn't [her], it's not who [she is]." She gazes down at what I think must be Walter's hamburger, and sighs, then picks up her cell phone and dials.
In Queens, later, Hilda gets home, alone. She's looking in the fridge when there's a knock at the backdoor. It's hot, hot Santos, standing in the shadows. Hilda sighs that he's too late; Justin is already asleep. "So, what is the excuse this time?" she asks, and he steps into the light, and he's totally been beaten up.
At Hogs and Heifers, Wil is taking body shots. That's totally awesome. She wipes the tequila off her mouth and offers Ted an insert in the June issue. He asks for one more round. "Oh, Ted. Enough with the frat party. You're not going to advertise," she sighs, and her phone rings; it is finally, finally Nico. Ted watches as Wil asks about the care package, and then tells what seems to be a pissed off Nico that she's doing the best she can. "How am I supposed to know you're in jelly bean withdrawal?" she asks, and then tells Nico to email a list and she'll have Marc put it together. Nico just hangs up on her. Ted looks sympathetic.
At Casa Suarez, Hilda cleans up Santos. He explains that he owed the money he gave her to his bookie, and they came and beat him up. He's really sorry she spent all night looking for him. And he's really sorry about a lot of other stuff, too. "Okay, don't start getting all real and emotional. It's not sexy," Hilda tells him. That is where she is wrong. A real and emotional bad boy? Ding-dong! Santos tells her that he didn't want Justin to see him like this. "You'll be brand new when he sees you on Thanksgiving," Hilda tells him, tenderly. "I'd like you to come."
Hogs and Heifers. Ted is telling Wil that he has three teenage girls. And he can relate to her pain with Nico. "One minute they love you, the minute, they're saying and doing all they can to put the hurt on you," he says. Wil sighs that Nico has every right to be angry; after all, she had her assistant do her daughter's care package. Ted points out that Nico would hate her no matter what, but Wil thinks she should have tried harder. Ted shrugs that he should have been home more. "You just have to try to make up for it," he says, and then tells her that he's glad he saw this side of her. "Someone who makes the effort to be a good parent is the kind of person I want to work with," he says, and announces that he decided to advertise with them back at the office, but he's definitely had fun with her, and she's been a good sport. But now he wants some real food. "So what do you say we go over to Babbo? I know Mario. He'll keep his kitchen open for me," he offers. Wil thanks him vehemently, and they grasp hands. Oh la la!
When Betty gets home to Queens, Walter is OF COURSE on her stoop, because he lives there. On her stoop. She hands him his burger, explaining that she ate half of it. "But it's really good." They sit there in silence for a moment, and then Betty apologizes. She apologizes! That is ridiculous. She may have said hurtful thing, but he owes her an apology just as much if not more as she does him. "You know when I said you didn't belong? I was talking about me. I was so nervous that I couldn't do things the right way," she says. Walter brats that he doesn't know why she puts herself through it, and Betty tells him something he should surely already know: that this is what she's always dreamed of doing. Walter greets this with silence, and then finally admits that he's scared of losing her. Betty promises that he won't. "I'm here. I just need you to support me," she says. They hug. I swear to God, if Walter doesn't get the boot soon, I am going to get violent. I can not stand him. Also: who did she call? Was it Walter? I'm serious, I'm not really sure.
The morning, Justin -- who looks like he had a growth spurt since the last episode was filmed, and who definitely had a haircut -- and Betty briefly chat about shampoo, until she leaves for work, totally proud about her hotel review, and excited to turn it in. Hilda comes in and tells Justin that she needs to talk to him for a second, because she has a surprise for him. "Guess who's coming to Thanksgiving dinner?" she asks. "MARTHA STEWART? I WON THE CONTEST?" Justin squeals. No, kid, just your good-looking but deadbeat Dad. Justin snorts that he'll believe it when he sees it, but Hilda swears that Santos means well, and loves Justin. Justin is totally doubtful. "Martha would have been a better surprise," he tells her, and leaves the room.
Over at Mode, Salma is clearing out the conference room, telling Daniel that she and her staff are getting out of his way. Daniel gets all touchy-feely with her and tells her he hasn't stopped thinking about her all weekend. Did she get his messages? His emails? His IMs? His singing telegrams? His billboards? Salma sniffs that she was busy. "I had plans. With my boyfriend." She looks mildly guilty -- whether because she didn't tell Daniel about the boyfriend, or because there isn't one, I can't tell -- and leaves.
In Wil's office, Marc apologizes about bailing on Friday night. "There's something about drinking out of body parts that makes me feel kind of pukey," he explains. Wil, smiling broadly, examines a package on her desk, and tells him that she landed the account, "among other things." Marc chortles that it must have been some weekend, because he peeked into the gift box, and "a straight man bought [her] shoes!" And indeed he did, lovely white cowboy boots that certainly make Wil smile. She smiles even more broadly when she reads the note, which reads, "a little high fashion and a little down home country make a great match! Love, Ted." Wil seems terribly pleased, and the reuses the shoe box to put together a care package for Nico, including the picture of them together that used to sit on her desk. She does not forget the jelly beans.
In the EIC's office, Daniel reads Betty's review. He says that she did a great job, and he loves it. But he can't publish it. "It's really you, Betty. It's just not really Mode." Betty sadly says that she understands. Daniel explains that what she wrote isn't at all in tune with their customary tone, and it's inappropriate for their readership. He offers to print a shorter version, and Betty doesn't offer to edit it, but merely thanks him for the opportunity and asks him to keep her in mind the time something like this comes up. Daniel, very sincerely, promises that he will. Poor Betty goes to the bathroom to cry and I do feel her -- she worked hard, and this is disappointing -- but she should have written in the tone of the publication. It's like Journalism 101.
Eventually, Salma finds Betty and asks if she's hiding because Daniel isn't running her story (which she somehow has gotten a copy of). Betty snuffles, and Salma tells her not to let other people's opinions get her down. "Enough of the pity party," she says, and tells Betty to show her those braces. Betty manages a sweet, if metallic smile. Salma rubs her shoulder, and together they recite, "I am an attractive, intelligent, confident business woman." Turns out Betty's mantra is straight out of Salma's book, which is a very nice piece of continuity. Mission Cheer Up Betty accomplished, Salma slaps Betty on the ass -- like she just made an awesome interception -- and announces that she loves Betty's review. She's running it in NYW, she says with a smile, and leaves the bathroom. All alone, Betty does a little dance of joy.