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Alice's downward spiral — Alice's producer is not thrilled about Alice's show ideas. None of them have anything to do with The Chart. Alice says one of them does: the one about Angelica's favorite book, If You Give a Pig a Pancake. The whole thing is a bit painful, but I still like the fact that Alice is Angelica's earth mother. With such intense mommies, Angelica's going to need someone in her life who can see the funny in all the crap.

Missing — Bette is packing. Tina arrives home and is surprised to see Mange there. Bette explains that she asked him to come over because she knew Tina was going out, and that she herself is going to Washington. I am momentarily distracted by the fact that Tina is wearing a black (or at least dark) bra under her see-through-ish white shirt, but that doesn't bother me half as much as the way Mama B and Mama T are talking to each other.

Tina: "When I took this job, you told me that you would take care of things at home. You said you'd be more than happy to do all the things for me that I did for you when you worked at the C.A.C."
Bette: "Yeah, and I am. Do you even know what's going on, Tina? I mean, we have to fight to preserve government support for the arts. PBS is up for grabs, for Christ's sake."
Tina: "And while I'm working, I'd like to know that my daughter is at home with her mother. Otherwise, I can't do it, Bette."
Bette: "Then don't. Really, don't."
Tina: "Are you getting paid for this?"

They have a brief moment of connection, in which they talk about politics (Tina is especially interested in the dyke Senator from Massachusetts) and it seems like they're still right for each other, at least intellectually and ideologically. But when Bette says "I'll miss you" — twice — Tina doesn't reply. And to that I can only say fuck you. Twice.

Well, hang on a minute. As someone who has been in Bette's position — and I do mean as someone who's had a girlfriend who reverted to the boy-loving ways — I have to give Laurel some credit. She's playing this in that detached way that becomes your modus operandi when everything about you turns upside down.

Nah, let's go back to "fuck you."

Nesting — Carmen is cleaning. Shane says it's not her mess, but Carmen says someone's gotta do it. Actually, yeah, it would be good if someone would actually clean it, rather than ineffectually pushing around dry paper towels the way you are.

They talk about Shane's opening at Wax; Shane thinks Carmen should do the Russell Simmons party, but Carmen's not happy that Shane doesn't seem to care whether Carmen is at the opening or not. Carmen's pretty good at the blank stare thing.

A screening — Helena and Tina are checking out a documentary they're interested in funding. The woman at the helm (Dylan) is none other than Alexandra Hedison, who's looking especially fine — especially to Helena. They sort of have a moment, as Helena essentially offers to fund the entire film and then some, but then Dylan excuses herself to find someone she'd like them to meet.

Helena: "Who is that, do you know?"
Tina: "That is Danny Wilson. Her producer. And, I think, her boyfriend."
Helena: "Oh."

I should be saying "bwa ha ha, serves you right, Helena," but look at her: she's just a girl, standing in front of a girl, asking to finance a documentary. Umm.

Tina! You smirked.

Getting her groove back — Kit and Mange babysit Angelica and sort of flirt with each other. I say "sort of" because there's just no chemistry between these two; and I'm not just being homosexist. It makes sense that they'd be a little nervous at this point, but they've gone beyond nervous and right into strained. That might be because Mange generally looks like he's trying to pass something.

Kit says Mange is just a child — really? He doesn't look that young to me, but that might be the passing-something-face. Mange brings up several examples of women who have been with older men: Susan Sarandon, Joan Collins, Mary Kay LeTourneau (haha). But Kit says he doesn't know anything about her. He disagrees, and lists a lot of things he does know about her, and it's supposed to be sweet but it sounds like he's reading the phone book. And then he sort of doesn't know what to say when Kit says "And I'm going through menopause."

Speaking of that, Mange's "hello" song has settled into my brain: I find myself singing it at the oddest of times. The other day I was in the loo and heard myself singing "Hello to the towels, so glad to see you. Hello to my bowels, so glad to see you."

Welcome home — Jenny and Moira go to Billie Blaikie's party. As they step inside, Billie tells Moira "welcome home." He introduces them to everyone, and in doing so, asks Moira whether she goes by any other names. Jenny says "She sometimes goes by Max." Everyone seems much more interested in Max than they do in Jenny. Talk about a good crowd.

A tranny named Ginger Vitus asks Jenny what her novel is about. "My novel is about some bullshit about my childhood." Again, how am I supposed to do my thang if she's going to do it for me?

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