This week’s “Lesbionics for Dummies” lesson is about lesbian sex. What is it, exactly? Mikey says it’s a lot of work and involves push-ups, leg lifts and hanging from light fixtures. It’s a full body work out, really. Whitney reports it’s “anything you want it to be,” much like her idea about relationships and dating.
Tracy describes frottage but assures the Fire Marshall that rubbing two vags together will not start a fire. Actually, it might. Good thing we have built-in sprinklers. Nikki admits she’s a big fan of the multiple O, because “We’re not one-hit wonders. We can go and go.” Good job, Jill.
Jill explains that women have many tools at their disposal, including, but not limited to, hands and mouths. “That’s the reason your girlfriend will leave your ass for me,” Rose warns, “It’s a little bit more than you sticking your d–k in her p—y.” What a poet.
Today, Nikki and Jill invite two dress designers to their home to talk about wedding attire. Nikki has changed her mind about wearing a pant suit and now wants to feel like the femme bride she so clearly is. They’re shown some sketches of simple, flow-y dresses and gush with approval. After the designers leave, Jill and Nikki jump up and down in unison with a giddiness rarely seen outside a Justin Beiber concert.
Nikki reiterates she doesn’t care what the price tags will be because her middle name is “Gucci.” Having seen their fine home and feeling Nikki’s Gucci vibe, the designers are at the end of the driveway, jumping up and down, too.
While Nikki and Jill monitor their investment portfolio, Whitney is at home working with her roomie, Alyssa. She tells her that she stayed at Romi’s place last night.
Whitney: But, we didn’t have full sex.
Alyssa: Your definition of “full sex” is a little hairy.
Whitney: Why is that?
Alyssa: I don’t know. You tell me. What is “full sex”?
Whitney: We like … we didn’t have, like, oral sex exchange, and stuff.
Alyssa: You have no self-control.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Alyssa is tired of watching her cousin, Tor, walk around the house with “sad face” and tells Whitney it’s time to be upfront with her. As one of her exes, Alyssa should know better than anyone that Whitney’s only mission is to hone in on female body heat.
Meanwhile, Natalie has asked Rose for help updating her hair dresser resume. Rose notices her old address and asks if she wants to update it using their address, or her mother’s address. “Well, where do I live?” Natalie asks, with all the self-awareness of a newborn.
Even Rose shakes her head in disbelief. Nikki’s middle name may be Gucci, but Natalie’s is The Gap. Between her ears.
Out in the desert, Mikey is driving to Vegas for a big trade show. With her, are her two straight minions: Cecie, the intern, and Shanna, her assistant. It doesn’t matter if your gay, straight, or a female country singer, wherever there are girls together, the conversation eventually turns to sex.
Because she’s basically a dude, Mikey says she used to think sex meant either penetration or an orgasm. As she chews on what might be beef jerky, she admits she’s not sure where toe-banging falls on the continuum. The straight girls are no help, so Mikey calls Raquel for her definition of sex. Unprompted, Raquel immediately mentions finger-banging. Two women. One mind.
Stamie tells us that when she was 29-years-old, she decided she’d rather make good money than perform comedy at laundromats and book stores, waiting for her big break. That’s when she became a real estate agent. During a house walk-through with Tracy and her male real estate partner, the question of sex comes up again. But the show is not scripted.
Honest.
For the guy, it’s clear: “slept together” equals intercourse. Stamie cracks that all she and Tracy do is cuddle and motorboat. Without a penis as a reference point, everyone — including these lesbians — seems flummoxed about what constitutes sex. How you define sex is up to you. Which explains straight “virgins” with no gag reflex. And Whitney.
When Mikey arrives in Vegas, she finds out what a little name dropping will get you; the Luxor has upgraded the LA Fashion Week producer to a suite fit for King Tut, replete with a full bar, a spacious living room, and a pool table.
Having escaped poverty with nothing but her dreams and a schlong, Mikey’s never seen such opulence. She plays with the remote control curtains and calls Raquel to tell her all about it. Raquel is excited, too, and will see it for herself, because she’s flying in later that night. Mikey’s elation runs amok when she instructs Shanna and Cecie to find her a wedding chapel. Their mouths hang open in shock. Now would be a good time to ask for a raise, girls.
While Mikey rolls around naked on her pool table and steals all the shampoo she can, Whitney sits Tor down for some “open” convo. Tor admits she didn’t know Whitney was hooking up with anyone, and she’s tired of feeling like a fool. Whitney deflects having to explain herself by saying, “I don’t know what you want.” Really?
Allow me to translate:
What she says: “In any situation that ever happened with myself, I always brought your name up.”
What Tor hears: “You’re important to me.”
What she meant: “I used you to keep a different chick from getting too clingy.”
What she says: “I don’t want you to think I don’t want anything with you.”
What Tor hears: “I want something with you.”
What she meant: “I might sleep with you. Later. Maybe.”
What she says: “That’s not what I’m saying.”
What Tor hears: “Your fears are unfounded.”
What she meant: “Don’t be mad. Now take your top off.”
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but only if you can get something to happen in the first place. Shanna and Cecie have called every chapel in the Las Vegas phone book, only to learn that 99% of them will not perform a gay wedding. That sanctity is reserved for the solemn special awesomeness between a stupid man and a drunk woman. Shanna and Cecie are sincerely incredulous that no one’s willing to marry two women. It’s sweet, and naïve and I love them for it.
Eventually, they find one chapel that takes gay dollars, but it’s moot, as Raquel has missed her flight. Damn it – just when I thought something interesting was going to happen. These two cannot get a break. Mikey consoles Raquel over the phone, and later says things happen for a reason, espesh when it comes to missed flights. Mikey says she was supposed to be on one of the hijacked 9/11 flights. Her luggage made it onto the plane, but she didn’t. By contrast, not getting married by Elvis isn’t that big a deal.
In other wedding news: Nikki and Jill are finding out how expensive love can be. The estimate for their dresses is a whopping $12,000. The wedding planner’s contract is $7,000-9,000. Nikki’s blank check bravada has evaporated faster than you can say “Gucci sample sale.” She knows the minute you blurt out the word, “wedding,” everyone adds a zero to their bids, but this is redonkulous. What? Isn’t this what we’re fighting for? The right to pay $900 for tuna tartare on an edible spoon and call each other “wife”?
Mikey and Raquel would be happy just to have a date night. Raquel has finally made it to Vegas. For some reason, she decides that now would be a great time to play a practical joke on Mikey. Standing outside the convention center, she calls to say she can’t make it, yet again. Mikey is not a happy camper. When Raquel finally finds Mikey on the trade show floor, she’s not greeted with laughter and happy relief. Mikey has snapped.
Mikey: I don’t like being lied to. It’s a huge problem for me. You know that.
Raquel: Baby, I’m not lying to you!
Mikey: Telling me that you don’t think you can come is not OK. Don’t let it happen again. Because that will drive a wedge into our relationship.
Raquel: Calm down.
Mikey: I am calm. This is me being calm. I’m not yelling, I’m not screaming, but it’s not OK.
Someone needs a nap. Or some toe-banging. Or both.
Tracy and Stamie are eating salad, per usual. Tracy says she’s tired of her job and wants to trade careers, if only for a day. Stamie knows she would hate Tracy’s job duties, especially the script reading part. In no time, she’d lose all interest and fall asleep. She should try recapping.
Over at Whitney’s, her new trainer, Miranda is working her out, oblivious to her client’s subtle flirtations and sexy panting. Miranda’s either straight, in a relationship, or turned off by dreads that look like sweaty jump ropes.
In Vegas, Mikey and Raquel have made up and are now playing strip 8-ball in their suite. Shanna comes in with her laptop to do some work, but as soon as the bras come off, she politely leaves the lesbians to their soaking tub and unclassifiable sex habits.
In a rare reversal of fortune, Rose is the one working, while others play. She’s uncharacteristically subdued. If it weren’t for all the f-bombs she uses while on a bidness call, I wouldn’t recognize her. Rose says business is booming and she needs an assistant. Let’s see. Who could be the worst possible candidate? You guessed it — she offers the job to Natalie.
Rose: Where do you see your future?
Natalie: [playing with her ring finger] Mmm… I see my future…
Rose: Doing nails?Natalie: No.
Rose: What are you talking about?
Natalie: I’m looking at my ring finger.
Rose: You better stop that s-t.
Is it too late to vote “Yes” on Prop 8?
I wonder which will end up being higher: the cost of Natalie working for Rose, or Nikki and Jill’s not-even-legal wedding. Jill, the more practical of the two, urges Nikki to haggle with the wedding planner. Nikki makes the call, gets a weird vibe from the woman and immediately regrets the strategy. She calls again to backpedal, kiss some ass, and cross her fingers they haven’t “insulted” the woman. Well played, Poker Face. Wanna buy my car?
As some of you know by now, Stamie has a nascent stand-up career. At one of her shows, Stamie introduces Tracy to a commercial agent and a print agent, hoping to pimp her out as a model. Tall, thin and Showtime’s favorite sunshine crotch, Tracy is a natural. And for Stamie, what’s better than being a kept woman? Being kept by a model who doesn’t mind changing your kids’ diapers and being sexually harassed by a 3-year-old, that’s what.
That night, Whitney goes to see her roommate’s band, Love Darling, perform at a bar. In a freaky coincidence, they also sing the show’s title song. What are the odds? Romi is there, natch, and Tor, too. Romi and Tor are probably surprised to see each other, but even more surprised to meet Whitney’s new trainer. Whitney should have given everyone a Miranda warning, but where’s the fun in that? You have the right to remain shameless.
Meanwhile, anyone else seeing a pattern?
Inside, Whitney points out various girls, trying to get a bead on Miranda’s orientation. Finally, she just asks Miranda if she’s into guys, or girls, or what? Miranda says she has relationships with guys, but is “into girls, too.” Fantastic. Just what we need, another showbian.
Romi gets upset when she sees Whitney stuck in Miranda’s grill all night. Whitney catches Romi’s WTF face and says innocently, “I’m so confused.” The shtick is getting weak, my friend.
Even Whitney is growing weary of her own “go away a little closer” shenanigans, and reminds Romi with annoyance that they’re not girlfriends. Tor watches knowingly from across the bar and later, argues with Whitney in the car about who’s the bigger drama queen; Whitney or Romi.
Unlike Natalie, Romi and all the dopey girls like them, Tor grew a pair of sensicles yesterday and says, “She made her bed. Now, sleep in it.”
Don’t be jaded about love, Tor. Mikey and Raquel aren’t. Mikey tells Raquel she tried to arrange an Elvis wedding for them. Raquel thinks it the most adorable, thoughtful, most romantic thing ever.
Raquel: I would love to get married. That would be amazing. I’ve never been more in love with someone. I’ve never loved someone so much, the way I love Mikey. It’s a very intense connection that we have.
Someone keep Whitney away from Raquel.
