• Imagination: What Jenny lacks — like we didn't all know that already.
• Taking: What Toxic Sludge Tonya does best. Well, that and bullshitting.
• Walls: Where the writing is.
• Talking: What lesbians do. And overdo. And again, ad nauseam.
• Sorry: The hardest word.

THIS WEEK'S GUEST-BIANS: Jane Lynch huffs and puffs; Sandra Bernhard sashays in cargo pants and steals the recapper's heart; Kelly Lynch further scrambles the gender signal; Anne Ramsay dodges a Jenny-shaped bullet.

Mendocino, California, 2003 — It's a wedding. Yep, it's a gay wedding, or at least, there's Robin, looking rather dashing in her white tux, and exiting the church to greet her friends and family. Alone. Huh? And then suddenly (inside the church, presumably) there's a woman being fucked against a door, and it becomes clear that the fucker is Claybourne, Robin's supposed-to-be-bride, and the fuckee might be a bridesmaid, but her dress isn't all that hideous, so it's hard to say. What's not hard to say is "poor Robin" — talk about being left at the altar! On the other hand, what were you thinking, marrying somebody named Claybourne? Hmm... Claybourne... Rock Hudson... Alice's knitting circle... is there a silver screen theme? Nah, I'm stretching.

The theme song — I'm trying to like it. Well, I kinda do like it, but they should have actually made it campy, instead of just almost making it campy. Like instead of just referencing "My Favorite Things," they could have had a Julie Andrews impersonator dancing with women in Captain von Trapp uniforms. 'Cause we'd all love to solve a problem like Maria. Or, at the very least, they should have hired Phranc or Two Nice Girls instead of Betty. Or even k.d., in her Angel with a Lariat phase. Ah, good times.

Also, a note to a few of the L Word fan sites: it's "ingenues with long lashes," not "on the news with long lashes." Ahem.

The Lacerating Lesbian Lawyer — That's what it says on the framed news clipping we're seeing. And there's a photo of the lacerator (Jane Lynch) with Bill Clinton, and a photo of her marching on Washington, and blah de blah. Don't get me wrong: I love Jane Lynch, especially in Best In Show. Anyway, Tina is in the lacerator's office, confessing that Bette paid the mortgage and that Bette's name was the only one on the utility bills, even though Tina paid them. So, you know, it's like Tina was never really there. That's unsettling enough, but what's weirder is this... oh, geez, those of you who haven't seen it will think I'm not describing it right, but I really can't... there's this thing on the wall. It's like a model... or an interpretation, in clay... of a uterus and fallopian tubes and, yeah, you get the message. And the lacerating lawyer is throwing these velcroed ping pong balls that stick — THWAP — in the clay uterus. I couldn't make this up, and I really can't watch it again in order to make sure I'm describing it properly. Work with me here.

The lacerator refers to Tina as "the little wife," precisely in order to piss Tina off and get her into lawsuit mode. Tina's resisting the whole shark thing, but the lacerator has already staked her claim. And thrown her pitch, and landed right smack dab in the uterus. Gross.

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