The upstanding, celibate citizen — Shane and Tina are at the gym again, where Shane is extolling the virtues of abstinence. She’s been so productive: She finally completed the insurance paperwork for the fire at Wax, and then she cleaned out her closet, ditching those nasty old Converse and low-slung jeans. She even started setting goals.
Shane: I’m telling you, Tina, this celibacy thing is like a master cleanse to my body. Ya gotta try it.
Tina: You know, Shane, I’ve gone long periods without sex. It doesn’t have the same salubrious effect on me.
Tina: Yeah, salubrious.
Shane: I like it. Sa-loo-brious.
Hee. Shane may have nice abs, but Tina has a nice vocab. Also, Shane, you can be funny. But this celibacy story line? That’s not funny; it’s laughable.
The topic once again changes to Tina’s dating habits. She has a date with a “heart doctor” and would appreciate some advice on what to wear. But Shane is in a freeze-frame of lust, having spotted a hottie who can do the splits.
Every beer commercial I’ve ever seen — Michelangelo and his motley crew are playing football by the lake. There’s a barking dog and old friends and probably a cooler of Bud somewhere. Or maybe Heineken, since this is the artiste crowd.
Bette, however, is trying to read a book and take some notes on the wonders therein. Michelangelo doesn’t approve. He hollers that they need a wide receiver, but Bette says, “No, thank you.” Whatever you think of Bette, I think you can agree that she’s no wide receiver.
One of the other friends tells Bette she’s “in violation” for working.
Bette: Well, I guess I’ll just have to get an infraction, or whatever the punishment is.
Snicker. But now Michelangelo has had enough.
Michelangelo: It’s the lake or the game.
Bette: [laughing fakely] Uh, I’d like to stay here, thank you.
Michelangelo: Don’t make me do it. The lake or the game.
Bette: Really, the book.
And so he picks her up. He carries her to the lake. He picks her up and carries her to the lake and throws her in it. Bette Porter! Thrown into a lake!
Oh, my God. That’s almost as gasp-inducing as Peggy Peabody’s dirty talk. Jodi is half horrified and half amused, and I half expect Bette to push her into the lake too as she stomps by, fury incarnate.
I guess you could say that this should be a lesson to Bette to lighten up or be more friendly or whatever, but I’m not saying that. How blind do you have to be not to know that Bette Porter does not toss footballs or get tossed into lakes? And how much of an ass do you have to be not to respect that?
But there’s no point in taking sides, anyway; clearly Bette and Jodi are doomed.