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The L Word Recaps: Episode 4.4 “Layup”

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

First: Alice makes a good one.

Animal rights: More like wrongs, when Jenny’s involved.

Basketball: A clash of classes, egos, and styles.

THIS WEEK’S GUEST-BIANS: Kristanna Loken zeroes in on Shane; Jessica Capshaw crosses the line; Marlee Matlin holds Bette’s gaze; Cybill Shepherd proves that teeth can be good.

I think I had a dream like this once – Alice is in bed. She’s giving instructions: “Up, higher, left, the other left, make circles, no teeth, oh, teeth are good, jeezus f—in’ a christ, oh yeah, f—, this is good, oh yeah, f— f— f—!”

Phyllis emerges from underneath the covers, sighing and looking like she’s just seen God. I kinda think she has. If you’re able, do yourself a favor and watch Alice come frame by frame. It’s spectacular.

Phyllis: I can’t believe how wonderful this is. It is the most amazing feeling to make a woman come.

Phyllis says she’s been dreaming and fantasizing about this forever. Alice tells her she makes a really good student, but Phyllis says she wants to be the professor. It’s giggly and fun, sorta like a sleepover, but for grown-ups.

Chez Shayne – Shay has something for Shane: A note about Back to School Night. Shane looks like she’d rather turn straight than go back to school. I like the way she’s honest with Shay: She just says, simply, “I don’t know if I can do that, Shay.”

The home for abandoned animals and artists – Jenny is taking a dying dog home. I almost want to leave it at that, because really, do you expect her actions to be informed by logic? But let’s try to unravel this little Schecterian stumper. Maybe she just reread Where the Red Fern Grows and is trying to experience the heartache for herself, or maybe she’s making a big paw-print mural or a houndstooth doily.

But it seems to be less self-serving than that, though not necessarily less crazy. Jenny tells the kennel assistant that her name is Debbie and that she has a habit of taking care of dying animals: “All sentient beings deserve to die surrounded by love.” The dog she’ll be surrounding is named Sounder, and even though Sounder is a she, Jenny alternates between “she” and “he.” As if in protest, Sounder barfs on Jenny’s silly ballet shoes.

I would also like to point out that the kennel assistant is saying “She has some incontinence” just as the words written by Elizabeth Ziff appear on the screen.

Papi fresh — Alice and Papi are chatting at the Planet. Papi’s pontificating about how easy it is for her to bed women. She also wants to know who Alice has been hittin’ it with. Alice says, “No one you know. I’m sure. Maybe.”

Papi: Was she good?

Alice: [chirpily] Yeah. Good, yeah. Different. Different. Good. She was good, she was great. What am I saying? She was great. Just, you know, she’s not my normal type. Not that I have a type. Yeah, I don’t know, I think it’s not about sticking with what you know, right now, for me. You know, different is good.

Papi: Yeah, different sounds married, Alice. Just keep that on the DL, OK? You don’t wanna be dodgin’ bullets, you know?

Alice: No, it’s not like that, Papi. I mean, I know when to keep it in my pants. It’s OK.

Papi: S—, I don’t.

Ugh.

Alice then tries to interview Papi, asking her where to meet girls. Papi — who, by the way, is wearing ridiculous tattoo sleeves and a crazy hat and gargantuan earrings — says one good way to pick up chicks is to play pick-up basketball on Sundays at West Hollywood Park.

Papi: I don’t leave there without at last one girl and, like, a couple of digits. Yeah, it’s hot, too — it’s, like, all kinds of girls, like, all sweaty and shit.

Lothario? More like Zuko. “You know how it is, rockin’ and rollin’ and whatnot.”

She tells Alice to come to the park on Sunday. As if to counter Papi’s affected way of speaking, Alice gets sort of girly and says, “My friends, we could make a little team.”

Papi: Whatcha gonna call your little team, huh? The bourgie-ass girls?

Alice: No, more like the kick-your-ass girls.

Papi tells Alice to make sure she brings Vanilla Spice. “You mean Shane,” says Alice. “Yeah, Shame,” says Papi. Ooh, good one, Danny Zuko.

Alice: You can save the s— for the field, all right?

Papi: It’s called the court.

Alice: Whatever. It’s on. It’s so f—in’ on.

I don’t know which is more beautiful to behold: Alice coming or Alice talking trash.

Live woman walking — Phyllis is cruising down the hall at CU — and I do mean cruising. She’s checking out all the ladies as “Music to Watch Girls By” plays.

She runs into Bette. They exchange good mornings; Phyllis says it’s an “astounding, life-altering” day. Bette wonders whether Phyllis has done something different with her hair. Then the conversation turns to business: Bette wants some advice on how to approach Skip Connolly, a conservative donor with deep pockets. Phyllis tells her to choose her battles wisely. Bette detects a whiff of censorship in the air but is soon distracted by the prospect of meeting impressive artist-in-residence Jodi Lerner.

Phyllis: Today at lunch we should go over the donors list. And I have something fun to tell you.

Bette: Oh. I’m looking forward to it. I gotta say, you really, you really are radiating something. Really. Anyway, I’d better go prepare for my meeting with Skip.

Phyllis: [calling after Bette as she walks away] I just hope I don’t end up on Our Chart.

Bette: Phyllis, you can’t end up on the chart unless —

Phyllis: [waving and running off]

Bette: F— me.

I gotta say (or rather, my girlfriend’s gotta say in the podcast), Bette’s glowing too, though that’s not exactly news.

Angstus keeps on angsting — Angstus is whining about being old and useless. Kit tells him to go back home and play his Les Paul because it always cheers him up. But of course he doesn’t feel like it. So Kit tries another tack:

Kit: I am going to record the song you wrote for me for this CD.

Angstus: What, “Bareback”? I thought you said it was too nasty.

Kit: [shaking her head] Uh-uh. I like it ’cause it’s really really really nasty. That’s why we’re gonna sing it together.

Angstus: You’re gonna do a duet with me on your new record?

Even in his haze of malaise, Angstus can see right through that pitying move. Kit sort of shoos him out to rehearse, then clasps her hands in a worrying/praying sort of way. She oughta think about heaven later ((c) Alice Walker) and worry about her wardrobe — though I do like that painting of Lady Day behind her.

Multitasking — Alice is talking to Shane about Papi. Sadly, she’s doing so while she’s on the commode, which bugs me. It seems to bug Shane too, but Alice (while reaching for the toilet paper that Helena has not replaced on the holder) is fixated on Papi’s bragging. I know that’s what I think about when I’m on the pot.

Learning from Lerner — Bette is meeting Jodi Lerner (Marlee Matlin). I love the way Bette adjusts her clothes and strides confidently toward Jodi — art is still what impresses Bette most. Unfortunately, the introduction isn’t so impressive: Bette taps Jodi on the shoulder while Jodi is using a drill — and since Jodi is deaf, this is even more hazardous.

Bette never quite recovers her cool. At first she speaks to Jodi’s interpreter, Tom, rather than to Jodi. And then Bette enunciates too hugely, and then walks off, babbling and failing to face Jodi, which means Jodi can’t read her lips. Jodi just seems amused by it all.

The interpreter, by the way, is completely distracting and interferes with the Bette-Jodi chemistry. I guess this is a lesson or whatever in what it’s like to talk to deaf people, but I’ll bet I’m not the only viewer who’s had that experience on my own and doesn’t need much instruction. The bottom line is, the guy can’t act, and I can’t learn from people who muck up the Porter mojo.

Bette asks Jodi to help her out with Skip the flush fundraisee. Bette is concerned about a “radical sculpture in the studio, which is crude and brilliant and enormous.”

As if I needed another reason to love Dean Porter: I think she just used enormous to mean “monstrous” as well as “large.”

Jodi is aware of Skip Connolly’s politics and knows he won’t like the “enormous” piece. She gets the drift: “You want me to put Loni’s piece in a corner until after the donor has doned, right?” Bette says it’s just for the afternoon, and Jodi appears to agree.

As Bette leaves, Tom signs something about Bette’s great body, and Jodi tells him to shut up. OK, Tom, I forgive you a little for your abysmal acting — at least you acknowledge the Dean is a dish.

Feckless driving — Jenny is barreling down the highway while talking on her cell phone, looking at a map, holding a dying dog and sneezing because she’s allergic to said dog. I’m guessing she’s not a particularly safe driver in the first place, so I’m a little concerned. Shane was probably a better driver when she went median-hopping. Hell, Toonces the Driving Cat is probably a better driver.

Jenny’s making an emergency vet appointment, under the name Debbie Oxnard (because she just saw a highway sign pointing the way to Oxnard). I wonder if she’s signed hotel registers as Debbie Surveycrew or Debbie Loosegravel.

Guess who’s coming out at dinner — Brooke and Max are dining at a raw food restaurant. Brooke says she was on a raw food kick during her sophomore year, but was soon “falling up the stairs to my dorm.”

Brooke: Guess I need my meat.

Guess I need pneumatic awls to punch out my eyeballs and eardrums so I never have to witness anything like that ever again.

Max tells Brooke he really likes her, and she returns the sentiment. She says no other guy has wanted to wait to get to know her better before having sex.

Max: I have something I have to tell you about myself. And I want to explain it to you, because I feel like you’re really special, you know? And I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.

Brooke: Don’t tell me; let me guess. You are an escaped convict on the lam from the law.

Max: I really trust you, you know? I just … it’s all new to me, this whole thing. And I just want you to know that.

Brooke: What do you have to tell me?

Max: I’ve always felt like a man. Inside. For my whole life. And, I mean, now that I know what that feeling is, I’m physically becoming one.

Brooke: I’m not really sure I understand what you’re trying to tell me.

Max: Um, I’m going through a transition. I’ve been taking testosterone for the past year and I’m under the care of this doctor. And I’m living as a man, and soon I’m physically gonna be one as well. I was born a girl. And I still kinda have like a woman’s body. I mean, even though I am a man.

Brooke: My God. [getting up]

Max: Wait, Brooke. I know this is a lot —

Brooke: You’re a freak. I don’t date freaks. How dare you? Liar. What do you think I am? Jesus. F—. [walking away] F—ing freak.

Sigh. Sorry, Max. To quote Randy Dean in The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love (back when Laurel Holloman could sort of act), “I coulda told you that would happen.” Also, “People are gross.” That Randy Dean was a font of wisdom.

A tour of duty — Bette is giving Skip Connolly a tour. He’s rambling about Proposition 209; he thinks admissions should be based on merit, not “need” (air quotes included). Bette just sort of sidesteps the whole thing, saying, “There are a lot of other issues at stake.” She introduces Skip to Jodi Lerner, and introduces Tom as Jodi’s “assistant.” Tom quickly corrects her: “I’m her interpreter.”

So this is how Jodi’s gonna get to Bette: Partly with the art, but also by representing a new frontier. When you’re as smart and accomplished as Bette, it must make you wobble like a weeble to encounter something you just don’t know very much about. And despite the implicit public service announcement, it’s nice to see someone deaf on TV. Deaf and hot.

Jodi tells Skip to feel free to look around: “I hope you find it stimulating.” And then Jodi and Tom step silently away to reveal a stimulating sculpture indeed. It’s Barbara Bush. The fake First Mom features a stars-and-stripes blindfold, a see-through belly with a missile-wielding George W. inside, and … um … a vacuum cleaner aimed at her nether regions. Skip is not happy.

While Skip stares at the sculpture, Bette pulls Jodi aside and faces off with her:

Bette: I thought we had an understanding.

Jodi: My understanding was that you wanted me to capitulate to some asshole’s reptilian politics to get money out of him, and that I will never do.

Bette: No, actually, what I asked you to do was to put the students and the university ahead of your own ego so we could get the reptile’s money in order to make art, not bombs. And you agreed.

Jodi just marches right over to Skip:

Jodi: This is called “The Unauthorized Abortion of W.” Some of the most powerful student work I’ve seen.

Skip: It’s an abomination. And an abuse of university funds.

Bette: Look, Skip, don’t you think, really, that the primary mission of the university is to provide a safe haven to explore ideas and expand boundaries?

Skip: Not on my dollar.

Bette: Skip, this is one artist among hundreds here, who’s just trying out her voice. And, really, isn’t that what graduate school’s about, supporting —

Skip: Well, I sure as hell won’t be supporting it. Thank you very much. Good day.

Jodi: [grabbing Bette as Skip walks out] Just leave him alone. Then call him and give him the speech about how the Impressionists met with the same response when they debuted their work in Paris in 1874.

Bette: Now, on top of everything, you’re gonna tell me how to do my job? [shakes her head and walks away]

I love the evolution of Bette during this little exchange. First she’s tense, brows ever so slightly furrowed, hands awkwardly at her sides like Jack Donaghy’s were when he was trying to walk naturally in that video on 30 Rock — Bette’s clearly trying to support Jodi but is really about to hurl. Then she slides into professional mode, pleading for Art and Education and other Grand Goals. Then she’s defeated and concerned, and then — quietly and almost desperately — she bites, not about to be instructed on anything, and not a little ruffled by Jodi’s hubris.

I have a feeling these two are gonna be good together.

Hello WeHo — Jenny is at the vet with Sounder the hapless hound. A male couple has also brought their dog, Molly, to the vet. She’s eaten a quarter pound of coffee. It’s an odd nod. But it’s sort of interesting that Jenny is watching them as if she’s ashamed: not ashamed to be gay, but ashamed to be a sham pet owner. Or maybe she stares at everyone that way.

Jenny — er, Debbie — and her dog are called in to the exam room. The vet turns out to be — the plot thickens — Stacey Merkin’s girlfriend. And of course that was the entire point all along. Jenny/Debbie talks a good game: She says Sounder’s been with her for 11 years and has outlived three girlfriends. The sparks fly, in between allergen-induced sniffles.

My favorite twosome — Alice is teaching Helena how to play basketball, with a mini ball and a wicker laundry basket. Alice says shooting is “like drying your nails,” and Helena echoes her, but I really can’t capture the hilarity of it.

And Helena can’t really get it in general:

Helena: I think we need to take a break.

Alice: Helena, we’ve got the game on Sunday. We have to train. And I still have to teach you how to slap the asses.

But Helena’s had five job interviews today, is knackered (I love that), and could really do with a glass of wine. She turns around to take her leave — tossing the ball over her shoulder and directly into the basket as she goes. Alice says, “Uh, Helena, you might wanna take a look at this, because YOU JUST GOT IT IN! OVER THE SHOULDER! OVER YOUR HEAD! WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING! I think you might be our secret weapon. HUH?!” It is so adorkable.

Meanwhile, the doorbell has rung. Alice opens the door to a fawning Phyllis, who has brought Alice a gift: A Julie London CD. “I thought we could listen to it next time,” says Phyllis. Uh-oh. You may soon be crying a river, Phyllis.

It seems Phyllis also needs a caterer for the upcoming trustees’ brunch, so Alice promptly volunteers a gobsmacked Helena. Phyllis happily hires Helena and gives Alice a possessive smooch.

Helena: Alice! A —

Alice: Yeah.

Helena: What did we just get me into? And B, you’re not telling me that that sophisticated, genteel, intelligent, lovely —

Alice: Lovely!

Helena: — mature woman is the same animal responsible for those hideously loud noises emanating from your bedroom the other night?!

Alice: [brightly] Yeah. That would be the lady! Uh-huh.

It’s time for me to refuse to recap something — Angstus and the other nanny, Hazel (hired by Tina and Henry), are chatting. Hazel thinks Angstus is hot, so she says all sorts of suggestive things to him and asks for guitar lessons.

They need to die.

Shoe shopping — Our playas are getting shoes for the big basketball game. Helena is lamenting the high cost of “trainers,” and Kit is freaking out about how big her feet are. And Shane (in her sturdy Converse) is just thinking about the Back to School thing.

Kit, the eternal observer, tells Jenny she’s “smelling like an ole dog today.” And then Kit explains the team name to Helena — Alice has claimed the “bourgie-ass” label.

Kit: Bourgie, baby. Come on, the bourgeoisie. You know, the upper class, the upper crust.

Crust is what your feet are gonna be if you insist on wearing those too-small shoes.

Taught — Bette is finishing up a lecture. Nadia keeps interrupting with transparent questions and far-too-familiar comments. It’s just downright dissy, because when you’re in Dean Porter’s classroom, you should shut the fahhhkkk up and learn.

Bette quotes Jeanette Winterson as she wraps up. Really? Winterson? Oh, gee, let me find something more obviously gay: Here’s my unread copy of The Well of Loneliness. Also, here’s a pair of Birkenstocks. And a labrys. And a cat and a Subaru and a backward baseball cap. Go drink this chamomile tea and write some poetry! I’m talking to you, EZ Girl, purveyor of clichés.

After the lecture, Bette gives Nadia a lecture:

Bette: Nadia, I’d like a word with you.

Nadia: I think I’d like more than that with you.

Bette: Nadia. Just listen to me. You’re a beautiful girl. And I had a wonderful time with you. But what happened can never happen again.

Nadia: I think you’re being overly sensitive to me.

Bette: No. I’m being very serious. We made a mistake. Do you understand me?

Nadia: I understand that you want me as much as I want you.

Bette: [shaking her head] It’s over. And that’s final.

Nadia: OK, I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful around campus.

Bette: If you continue to ignore what I’m saying to you, then I’m going to take disciplinary action. And I will take the consequences. Believe me. Do you understand me now?

Nadia: I’m sorry, Dean Porter. I understand that you’re serious.

Nadia sorta sounds like Anne Heche when she talks. And we all know how that turned out.

Back to school night — While the teacher talks, Shane scribbles on the chalkboard. And some of the parents babble about Shane: “Maybe Patti Smith’s just here for the free food.” Speaking of free, has Mom No. 2 been stealing from Kit’s wardrobe? Check out that shirt.

As Shane registers the sniping, another mom interrupts to tell her to ignore it. She introduces herself: She’s Paige, Jared’s mom, but more important, she’s played by Kristanna Loken, which means she’s giant. Shane looks even more Hobbit-like in comparison.

The teacher interrupts to tell Shane that Shay is doing well, but should probably be involved in some activities. Shane says she doesn’t know how helpful she can be in this department, because she’s just filling in and she knows Shay misses his family a lot. The teacher takes Shane over to a convenient bulletin board titled “My Family” and reveals Shay’s contribution: It’s a drawing of Shay and Shane holding hands, with Shay’s parents in the background. Awww.

Bette’s house — Bette is scolding Alice: “I cannot believe you f—ed my boss.”

Bette: Do you understand the consequences of this?

Alice: Really intense, great orgasms?

Bette: I’m serious, Alice. She’s never been with a woman before.

Alice: She coulda fooled me. Bette, just chill. I mean, everybody has their first time, OK? And I have to say, I’m a very good first.

Bette: She’s not just some girl on your chart. Right? Phyllis is the executive vice chancellor of a major university, married with children, considerably older than you.

Alice: Right, exactly, which is why I thought that she would, you know, she knows what she’s doing. Come on, it’s all about me broadening my horizons right now, OK? And I … I liked trying an older vintage.

Bette: Well, I just hope it doesn’t blow up in your face. Or mine, more to the point.

Alice: OK, but when she ate me out, it was —

Bette: Nonono lalalalalaaaaa! No!

I love it when Bette is funny. And when she’s in scenes with Alice. Yeah, I know I love Bette, period, but come on: These little scenes rock.

Alice wants to talk about basketball instead. Bette says she hasn’t played basketball since junior year of high school, which of course only encourages Alice. She tells Bette their honor is at stake, but Bette says she has a report due and a speech to write and five budgets — at which point Alice says she’ll just tell Phyllis to order Bette to play.

Am I the only one who’s starting to think of these two as the super couple?

The basketball game — OK, here we go. Our team looks kind of ragged.

Before we can process that, though, Tina shows up to give a speech:

Bette: Hey, what’re you doing here, Tina?

Tina: I, uh, decided to play.

Bette: Where’s Angelica?

Tina: She’s with Angus and Hazel. She’s fine.

Jenny: But it’s a lesbian game, Tina.

Kit: Hey, what about me?

Alice: You’re an honorary lesbian, Kit. Come on.

Tina: That’s fine, Jenny. I still identify as a lesbian.

Jenny: Yeah, but when you walk down the street with your boyfriend, holding your boyfriend’s hand, enjoying all the heterosexual privileges, you stop being a lesbian.

Kit: Depends on what color heterosexual you are that gets you all them privileges.

Shane: Tina, I don’t think there’s a goddamn difference.

Helena: No, I mean, if Tina wants to identify as a lesbian, isn’t that her choice?

Alice: Why don’t you just be a bisexual?

Tina: Actually, I think of lesbian as a political identity, to tell you the truth.

Jenny: No, it’s not. It’s not about who you vote for. It’s about who you f—.

To save them all from themselves, Papi interrupts and tells Tina she doesn’t care who she f—s; she can play with them.

So they play. Jenny has coffee and giant bug-like specs.

And when Tina tells Bette to stop f—in’ fouling her, Bette tells Tina to stop f—in’ traveling with the ball and steals it from her. Heh.

Shane, meanwhile, is calling Papi “Pops” and “Dad.” Snicker.

Alice manages to dribble the ball between another player’s legs, and shrieks accordingly — and then thunks it against the backboard and is embarrassed. I’m cheering for you and your bling, Alice.

Jenny is a complete mess, of course, protecting her head when the ball gets near her. She even takes a smoke break.

Helena takes some free throws — the second of which is an over-the-shoulder shot that goes in. Silliness.

The trash-talking is not insignificant. Papi calls Bette “Brown Barbie,” so Bette replies, “Who you callin’ Brown Barbie, you f—in’ Carmelita Tropicana?” And I strut and preen as if I’m actually involved.

While the game has been going on, Max and Shay have been fooling around with a skateboard. Shay falls off, and Max delivers the news. Apparently Shay has broken his arm — really badly. Speaking of breaks, Max’s voice just got a teeny bit deeper. Has he been playing us all along?

The Planet — Our team is discussing the interrupted game. Helena wants to know when basketball became a big lesbian sport, but Bette says it always has been and the WNBA should stop running from it. Then they discuss other “dykey sports,” like softball, rugby, golf and tennis.

Bette says the next time they play, she wants to get everyone together to practice. Jenny and Alice simultaneously tell each other they need to practice, which is cute.

But jeez, was that a loooooong basketball game.

The hospital — Shay’s medical bills are extreme. I don’t really understand why, but I think Hillary Clinton’s campaign might benefit from this little incident. If only everyone needed urgent, astronomically expensive health care for minor fractures.

Paying the bills — Shane has to cover Shay’s bills somehow. I know what I would do: model underwear for Hugo Boss. I mean, if I looked more like a poster child for world hunger.

Next week on The L Word: Helena pretends to be a caterer, Phyllis gets clingy, and Jenny is no Monet.

Hear more of Scribe Grrrl’s thoughts on the episode in her weekly podcast Talking to Manatees – multiple download options available here, or subscribe through iTunes.

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