What would Jesus do? — Crutch is sitting in a minister’s office with Tatum, whose real name we now know is Olivia, to discuss the terms of Crutch’s performance. Until this moment, the closest Crutch had come to religion was listening to Judas Priest and Thelonious Monk.
The minister, a baby-faced rookie himself, wears a grandfatherly Bing Crosby cardigan but still looks like he’s about 19. He tells Crutch he’s looking forward to hearing her play and how she’s had such a positive influence on Olivia. He has no idea her biggest influence has been being a cool lesbian.
Crutch tells him her friends were concerned about her playing for a Christian event, considering the "gay thing." From the flummoxed look on his face, it’s clear Olivia failed to mention a certain little tidbit to Reverend Babyface.
Before the minister can assign Crutch one bajillion Hail Mary’s for her sinful ways, Olivia tells him that it shouldn’t matter; her music is cool because it’s about being yourself and how it’s so positive. Doe-eyed and innocent Olivia tells him, "You always tell us that Jesus was positive, and he would love her."
Reverend: [to Crutch] Well, um, maybe your music would have a positive influence on the other kids as well.
Olivia: [jumping in] Yeah. It totally would.
Reverend: We’re happy to have you, Crutch. But let’s just focus on your music and not on you. Deal?
Crutch: [shaking her head] I did not move out of a storage room just so I could move back into the closet.
On that happy note, Crutch leaves. Olivia looks at Reverend Babyface with big, sad eyes. It doesn’t look good for Olivia’s favorite magenta-haired, guitar-toting lesbian to be belting out "Giant" at Bingo night.
Therapized — Sam’s back at the office of Dr. Harrison, Elizabeth’s male colleague, allegedly to pay for last week’s accidental therapy session. She’s also complaining about all the work she has to do on her condo. The doctor speculates she’s done it all before in her current apartment, but Sam explains the condo is older than her rental.
Dr. Harrison: Rental? Well, a condo is a commitment.
Sam: You know I didn’t come here to, um, to have therapy on my commitment issues. I just came here to give you that check because you accidently therapized me last week.
Dr. Harrison: You really believe that’s why you’re here?
Sam: This is the part where you’re going to tell me, that, uh, I need to do some work on myself or you know, self-actualize or …
Dr. Harrison: Certainly. Part of self-actualization, as you put it, is the ability to commit to something. Or someone.
Not looking to get therapized again, she tells the good doctor he doesn’t know her. Doctor Harrison offers he’s there to get to know her. Sam gets up and says sarcastically, "Have fun with that," and makes her way to the door.
Dr. Harrison: When’s the last time someone really hurt you and you stayed to deal with it?
Sam: I don’t need this.
Dr. Harrison: It’s easier to walk away. The harder choice is to stay.
To date, Sam’s hardest choices have involved blondes, brunettes and eeny-meeny-miny-moe. But let’s not discount the agony of that kind of decision-making.