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“The Real L Word” minicap: Episode Two “Game On!”

And we’re back. Curious if Tracy permanently traded in her skateboard for a stroller? Wondering if Nikki ignored Jill’s frugality and hired Madonna to sing at her wedding? How many more local companies will Mikey never f—ing work with? Has Rose grown up, even by one day? And is Whitney still circling the airport in her Clam-mobile, in search of more gullible brunettes? Here we go again.

An off-camera interviewer has posed the question, “What kind of lesbian are you?” While wearing a sleeveless silk top, strappy heels and at least three pearl necklaces, Nikki says with a straight face she can be butch.

Tracy polls the crew, “What kind of lesbian do you think I am?” as if they have a clue what’s going on. She settles on being “the kind that likes women.” Oh Tracy. You’re missing the whole point of reality television.

Jill brings up a valid issue: You’d never ask a straight person what kind of straight person they are. But then she adds, “These terms are kind of new to me… you love who you love, and can’t the conversation end there?” Last week, she said her first time with a woman was like her first time with a man. Jill can still see Heteroville from her house. But by all means, get married, you crazy kids.

Rose brags she’s a Renaissance lesbian because she thinks “Renaissance” means “a little bit of everything.” Well, who has time to read the dictionary when there are shots to be done?

Whitney describes herself as a hard femme-soft butch who cleans up nicely, but can swing a hammer. Mikey swings her imaginary schlong over her shoulder and says she’s a Mikey lesbian. And the world needs more of them. We’re good, thanks.

Whitney’s airport pick up is Tor, a hair stylist and former hook-up. Shocking, I know. Tor is moving to LA to look for movie work, but Whitney suggests she’s moving to be closer to the Clam.

As they exit airport grounds, LAX workers get busy changing those giant entrance letters to read “LA-Ex.”

To complicate matters, Tor’s cousin is Alyssa, Whitney’s roommate and ex from years ago. With no job waiting for her, Tor will stay in Whitney’s room until she gets settled. Tor doesn’t realize the bed is still warm from Sara sleeping in it that very morning. What could possibly go wrong?

Mikey reveals that she grew up in the projects, where at 9-years-old, her best friend was shot and killed right before her eyes. Crips, Bloods and little Mikey. Maybe her invisible penis is really her shield.

While Mikey scouts a ginormous sound stage for her upcoming LA Fashion Week event, Tracy is giving Stamie’s kids their afternoon snack. Stamie knows she hit the jackpot: “If Tracy took a second to think about this and break it down, that bitch be running down Ventura Boulevard. And I’d have to stop her. With my vehicle.”

OK, but not the face.

When Nikki and Jill aren’t playing day spa or auditioning cellists for their walk down the aisle, they’re working on bringing the book “Sexual Fluidity” to the small screen. Nikki is an agent and TV developer, and Jill is a writer, which explains their bank account disparity. They meet with author, Lisa Diamond, who looks and sounds like the gender studies professor she is.

Who let the real-looking, smart person in?

Unlike Jill, Nikki is sure she’s 100% gay. Jill waves from the Sexual Fluidity parade float and explains that she falls for the person, not their gender. And that differs from bisexuality. So, instead of having no preference, or an inclusive preference, Jill has an absence of things to prefer. Or something. I think. The point is, they both love Armani.

Tracy and Stamie go to Weho to play basketball and have post game drinks at the Abbey, West Hollywood’s gay ground zero. The only straight people at the Abbey are lost tourists and gawkers who think gays are a hoot. Tracy and Stamie end up sitting with what might be a Tegan and Sara fan club.

Whitney shows up, swearing she’s just staying for one drink. That’s what everyone says. Five drinks, two trips to the bathroom, and one order of hummus later, it’s dark, you’re cold, and you’ve run into everyone you’ve ever met.

Right on cue, Romi wanders in. Thankfully, she doesn’t see Whitney’s tiny crush on Tracy because Tracy and Stamie left hours ago, like normal people. Despite everything she sees, hears and suspects, Romi’s the kind of girl who ignores all of it and begs to be lied to hear some sort of explanation.

Romi: I need you to, like, be honest with me. Whitney, just…

Whitney: No, OK. Sara, the other day? What happened with her and I? We had hooked up, like, a year ago. We hooked up again. We have a chemistry. The fact of the matter is she lives in San Francisco, she has an ex-girlfriend…

Romi: This girl doesn’t live here?

Whitney: Right. Do I like you? Yes, absolutely. Do I have a chemistry with you? Unden…un… indubitably.

Given how many times Whitney throws around the word “chemistry,” she should have an honorary degree from Caltech by now.

She tells Romi, “I don’t know what you want. I don’t think this is what you want,” because when you make the other girl think it’s their fault, it only makes them try harder.

I rest my case.

Couple of the Year, Rose and Natalie, are getting ready to celebrate their seven-month anniversary. Why month-to-month celebrations? Natalie half-jokes she isn’t sure they’re going to make it to eight. At dinner, some flowers arrive at the table for Natalie. From the look on Rose’s face, they’re clearly not from her. When a TV production company is more thoughtful than your actual girlfriend is, it’s time to reassess your choices.

Natalie admires the bouquet and dreams about her future wedding, prompting Rose to ask, “To who?” Awesome.

They raise their glasses and toast to love, their love, and specifically, Rose’s love. Rose reminds Natalie, “You’re lucky you got it.” Check, please.

Let’s go to Whitney’s. While Tor is in the kitchen, Whitney is in the backyard on her phone, telling Romi how irresistible she is. Alyssa steps outside to give Whitney the stink eye. She tell her to stop dissing her poor cousin, and get in the damn house. Whitney’s only concern is whether Tor can hear her Romi convo. After Alyssa shakes her head in disgust and goes back inside, Whitney looks right at the camera and smirks.

What a dreamboat. No pushing, girls.

Rose and Natalie get home and immediately start getting busy. Yes, Natalie is easily seduced by wine, mashed potatoes and flowers from associate producers. She straddles Rose and starts kissing her giant face. There’s a ridiculous amount of slurping and smacking going on. When straights ask what we do in bed, apparently the answer is clean each other’s teeth.

The next day, Whitney and Alyssa are back to work, creating a mold for a horror movie. For no reason in particular, Whitney mentions she was once temporarily blinded and paralyzed by a vaccine she received in New York. Is that what we’re calling tequila now?

We’re back at the airport! This time, Nikki and Jill are there to pick up Jill’s dear and gay-looking friend, Derek. Immediately, things feel ominous when Derek and Jill won’t stop holding hands in the car and she jokes he’ll be expected to take his shirt off later and show off his tattoos. And she’ll takes hers off, too, if that helps! Nikki stares out of the car window.

Jill says she’s “desperate” for Derek to move to LA, any girl would be lucky to have him, and they might have had feelings for each other in the past. Burying any hint of emotion, Nikki says with visibly careful calm that she can’t compete with a man.

Two words: Pre and nup.

Rose’s dad pays her a visit to gently ask her to grow the eff up already. He wants her to stop drinking so much and settle down with Natalie. Rose has no interest in that blah blah. Life is good! Calling friends “dude” and “bitch,” screaming come-ons at random girls to impress your crew, doing shots with your homies. It’s about community, really.

I’m not sure what’s going on here, but Whitney seems to have slept with every girl that ever emerged from Baggage Claim, and has moved on to chimps.

Mikey is turning out to be a power lesbian in Chucks. She waits anxiously for Raquel to join her at the restaurant where the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce is about to open its arms to her. Raquel is stuck at work and Mikey checks her phone obsessively. She saves her a seat and everything. It’s cute. It’s sweet. It makes you forgive the fact that she never makes dinner.

Mikey gets her plaque, shakes some hands, and cracks a size joke with the guy next to her. And Raquel missed all of it. Aw. Outside afterwards, Mikey hears someone call out “Baby!” She turns to see Raquel, breaks out in a genuine smile of joy and rushes into her arms.

Raquel: What’d I miss? I just walked down the street and people were talking about you! They were like, “We thought Mikey was a boy.”

Mikey: Somebody thought I was a boy?

Raquel: Yeah. Lemme see your plaque!

Mikey: Was it ’cause of the size of my penis?

Rachel: Probably.

I’m starting a new drinking game.

Tracy and Stamie appear to sleep apart when the kids are around. In a darkened bedroom, Tracy is alone, barely visible under a mountain of covers. A tiny voice squeaks, “Tracy?” One of the twins wants Tracy to be awake now. It’s 6:17 AM. Peanut, if you don’t have a Bloody Mary in your hand, you better go back to bed. Someone is not training these children correctly.

In other news, Mikey’s proud night is followed by a bad news day. She’s lost her dream stage to a feature film because although LA likes fashion, it runs on movies. She doesn’t threaten the studio because Mikey knows how to pick her sword fights.

Meanwhile, Rose has invited her friends over for game night, where Natalie is allowed to hang at the fringe and share the back of an ottoman.

Rose says Natalie’s desire for more commitment is “her way of tying me down.” She might just want a chair.

It soon becomes clear the only game Rose likes is Shots and Ladders. She also enjoys the drinking song, “Show your tits! Show your tits!” One of her dopey friends actually falls for it. Pfft. We’ve seen better.

Natalie leaves the room. The Renaissance lesbian calls after her, “…you f—ing lame ass.” Rose’s pals cackle with laughter and high-five Rose as she bellows, “I don’t give a f—!” When the show points to Rose as their nod to diversity, it seems they meant the Tool demographic. We should have been more specific.

As Natalie tells her woes to someone in the kitchen who could care less, Rose sits outside with a homie, bragging how she used to get all the hot girls, complaining what a drip Natalie is, and how her ex was “f—ing banging, dude!” Too bad about that restraining order.

Upstairs and alone for a moment, Natalie and Rose point fingers at each other, and not in the good way anymore. Natalie threatens to move out. Naturally, Rose goes downstairs and continues to party with her awesome friends.

A Rose is a Rose, is a Rose.

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