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Dinner at Max's boss's house — Oh fer fuck's sake. Must I listen to this pseudo-geek speak again? I'll type it out this time, just so you can see how ridiculous it is.

Max's boss: "My quantum photon chip is gonna blow everything else out of the water."
Some other guy: "The methodware's totally becoming a regular feature of my toolkit."
Max: "I wanna develop a program that navigates documentation for IT process best practices."
Boss: "I like the way you think, Max. Original thinkers are our most valuable pieces of manpower."
Max: "I've always been really interested in technological innovation."

Yeah, maybe nobody cares, but it's just stupid: how much work would it take to try to make this make sense? Very little. Not that they get the law or anything else right on this show, but they seem to actually try with other things, but not with the geek speak — even though I'd guess that a high percentage of the viewers are quite computer literate. I'm going to give up and assume it's deliberate. I mean, "quantum photon chip?" They might as well talk about a PU-36 space modulator. And Max claiming an interest in "technological innovation" is like if Bette were to say she's always been interested in arts and crafts. Shut. Up.

Jenny says it better than I ever could: she's spelling out FUCK with her food.

Max's boss jokes that his wife always glazes over too.

Jenny: "Oh, I'm sorry. Do I appear a little spaced out?"
Boss's wife: "I think about all kinds of things when I'm out with these guys. I think about my pedicure, my kids' homework, my charity auction..."
Jenny: "I'm thinking about this story that I'm working on, about how when I was 12, I used to masturbate like 20 times a day, and I'm not sure whether I should make it like, fiction, or like a New Yorker style essay piece."

I know you never thought I'd say this in reference to Jenny, but that rocked. I feel a little bit sorry for Max, but not sorry enough to stop laughing.

Dinner at Daddy-O's — Gabe McCutcheon's wife, Carla, is not quite sure what to make of Shane. But the kid, Shay, likes her just fine. They talk about the usual stuff, and then Shane tells them she's getting married next week. Carla talks about the fact that it took Gabe 45 years to settle down: "Everywhere we went, women just threw themselves at him." Shane smiles knowingly.

Daddy-O: "So what's he do, your guy?"
Shane: "She's a DJ. Her name's Carmen."
[pauses all around]
Carla: "Well, see, I told you. I looked at your picture and I said 'I bet she's gay.'"
Daddy-O: "She did, she nailed that."

That's not a bad reaction, really. And then Carla says they should go to the wedding, and Shane says yes, they're invited, and it's tentative but sorta okay. Except for the way Daddy-O can't seem to smile without smirking.

Alice's radio show — Alice still has a job?? That's the most shocking thing that's happened all season. She's still doing the cat's cradle as she talks.

Alice: "I want to believe, my friends. Believe me, I do. 'Cause my friend Shane is getting married this weekend, and I wanna believe for Shane, and I wanna believe for all the rest of us who are flailing around in this abyss, trying to feel what we're supposed to feel in order to connect in meaningful ways. I wanna believe that real, true connection among human beings is actually possible. And supposedly, marriage connects us. I mean, supposedly it improves our moral fiber and all. Which begs the question: why do these crazy, creepy, defending-the-family crusaders think it's a bad thing for gays? I mean, why can't they just wish us well? Hypocrites. Because we're goin' to Canada, people, whether you like it or not, to take our best shot at this connection. And if we fail, it is not because we are less wholesome than you are. Please. I mean, you guys have been failing at this miserably since the beginning of recorded history. And if we succeed, and our love connections actually flourish, and there's a little less loneliness in the world, then even I might start believing in miracles."

Go right ahead, Alice. But as you stare at the cat's cradle you're playing with, ask yourself: who's pulling the strings? It ain't god or love or anything miraculous: it's a bunch of misguided producers and writers who have lost the plot and can only hope that you keep saving their asses every week with your wit and skill.

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