The L Word recap (3.2): “Lost Weekend”

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

  • Easy: Men. Unless you’re genderqueer.
  • Progesterone: Good if you’re crazy; useless if you’re a bigot.
  • The ultimate patriot act: What Tina doesn’t like.

THIS WEEK’S GUEST-BIANS: Alan Cumming fascinates and repulses; Cynthia Stevenson phones it in; Anne-Marie MacDonald’s huge talent is wasted; Lauren Lee Smith wonders why she’s bothered to hang around; Irene Lopez continues to coddle Chane.

So I should confess that I left something out last week: in the weirdness of the student-filmish prologue, the women who were making out at the encounter group were named Teri and Marilyn. We know this because their names appeared on the screen, and a line was drawn (no doubt by the poltergeist) between their names. I didn’t say anything about it because it made no sense to me, and also kind of ruined the moment. But it’s going to make sense in the next couple of paragraphs, so do pay attention. I didn’t, and look what’s happened: I’ve wasted far too much time explaining myself.

The Castro, 1979 — For a moment I think Queer as Folk has been resurrected, and I rejoice — but Brian Kinney is nowhere to be seen. But he’d be proud of these men, who are fucking in every position imaginable and wondering why an androgynous woman has just stumbled into the scene. “I’m looking for sex,” she explains, and when one of the happy gay boys suggests she try the Safeway that’s crawling with “straight hot men,” she explains that she’s looking for girls. So they send her around the corner, and apparently she takes the poltergeist with her, because we hear “I’m looking for sex” and “I’m looking for girls,” just in case we missed them the first time.

Anyway, Teri (the one who’s being haunted by the poltergeist and who — surprise! — was having an intimate encounter the last time we saw her) finds someone around the corner: someone named Toni who’s looking for sex and girls too and is mercifully free of poltergeists or husbands. It’s almost good, until they speak:

Toni: “Fuck me so I forget who I am.”
Teri: “It’s too late to stop me.”

No, it’s not the words, so much: it’s the way they’re spoken, which is with about as much nuance and subtlety as you get from the cross dangling from Toni’s neck as she says “Oh Jesus.”

The road — Moira and Jenny are counting roadkill. I haven’t played this game, but apparently the first person to get to 21 wins. Can it be any kind of roadkill? Bugs on the windshield? Brain cells as you stare out at the endless highway or a senseless TV show?

Jenny says that as the winner, she must be given a prize, so Moira tells her to open the glove. Box. Glove box. Or glove compartment or glove locker. Whatever you like, but it’s not just “glove.”

The glove (smell it) contains a taser gun, which Moira keeps “just in case” someone gives her shit. Jenny’s not excited about it, and is possibly also not excited about the fact that Moira’s lines are all delivered with the sort of inflection one usually lends to statements like “I’ll have a Diet Coke.”

But the gun is not Jenny’s present: Moira tells her to open the box that’s in the glove (box). Inside is some coke — not the diet kind — and a razor blade, the latter of which is more fascinating to Jenny. The music gets all squeee and eeeek and pppinnngg just to make sure we get the idea.

Let’s pause for the writer credit: AM Homes. The AM stands for Adored and Madly-skilled.

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