Renee takes the team to Helen’s comedy show as a team bonding experience. Throughout the entire show, Lauretta can be seen emoting with her eyes. They are saying, “I am that guy in the movie buried alive in a coffin. Won’t the universe take pity on me and put me out of my misery with a fatal brain aneurysm?”
Meredith takes DJ D-list to a women’s writers’ group, hoping the change in environment will encourage him to lose the poseur exterior and allow Vinnie from the block to make himself known. Writers Claudia, Dana, and Katherine proceed to bombard him with their words of wisdom, including a list of “things that are better than dating a conceited egotistical douchebag.” At the end, Vinnie looks like someone removed his manhood. Ah, the pen is mightier than the scalpel.
Helen decides to take Kathy to a salsa dancing class. At first, Kathy is creeped out by the experience but over time begins to have fun, probably because she is eventually paired with a total hunk, who looks like a boyish version of Dean Cain. “You look like Clark Kent with the glasses!” giggles Kathy. The hottie responds, “Does that mean I have to rip my shirt off and become Superman?” She gets his number. Helen’s job is done. “Take that, Loretta!” sasses Helen, high fiving herself.
Meredith takes Vinnie, the schlub formerly known as DJ Douchebag, to a birthday party, instructing him not to talk extensively about his deejay persona. He chats up the women, saying he works “in entertainment,” which could mean a variety of things, from television producer to professional stuntman to guy who maintains the popcorn machine at the movie theater to fluffer on a porn set. Still, in Vinnie’s case, saying “in entertainment” is better than saying that he is a deejay who causes an “explosive” reaction when he enters a room and who gets to fist bump Russell Simmons. Vinnie appears to be successful in not completely turning the women off, so Meredith leaves.
As soon as she leaves, though, he proceeds to invite all of them out to one of his gigs, no charge at the door. Then he hands them his phone, which has a gaggle of ladies in stripper-quality bikinis as his wallpaper. Sorry, Meredith. Looks like DJ Douchebag is back.
Needless to say, the women are not amused, although they, inexplicably, continue to humor him until at least the camera pans away.