—Last week Jen turned down a big fat check from a woman named
Lauren because she found Lauren’s body more irresistible than her money.
But today Jen’s taping an interview with a pole-dancing instructor for
her documentary, so I guess she found her shooting funds elsewhere.
(Maybe she sold her Complete Works
The pole-dancing instructor
proudly tells Jen and her camera that she stripped her way through college.
Showing up at the bursar’s office with 5,000 singles is no way to endear
yourself to your future alma mater, but hey, whatever it takes, right?
She not only got out of college debt-free, she had enough money left
over to start a school for pole dancer wannabes.
While a student does something
slightly gynecological to a brass pole, Jen asks the woman to address
the idea that this kind of dancing exploits women. The woman smiles
and argues that it “teaches women to put themselves out there and
express themselves in whole new ways.” I can think of a dozen other
ways to express myself that do not include a leotard and Handi Wipes,
but that’s just me.
Jen is also skeptical about
the Power of the Pole.
Pole Woman: You
know, I usually find women that hold back in one area usually hold back
in lots of other areas.
Jen: One day I should take a class and find out.
Pole Woman: Well, how ’bout now?
Jen glances at the student,
who is now upside down with the pole nestled in her ass crack. Uh, rain
A helping hand
—Sam is helping Jen set up the reception area for a rough-cut
screening of her skinumentary, Sex, Inc.
She rushes in late and plops three large sandwich trays down on the
bar. Smoothing her hair several times, she eyes Jen like a nervous squirrel.
Jen notices right away and comments that three cases of bed head in
one week is fairly ambitious, even for Sam.
Sam tells Jen not to worry
about her bed status and asks instead about the interview with the pole
dancer. Jen tells her about the offer to take a class, which makes Sam
guffaw in disbelief and say, “Yeah. Not with a million dollars
and Mia Hamm’s phone number.” OK, but if her husband answers, hang
—Meanwhile at the ChKrisses, the childless couple discusses the
do’s and don’ts of a biological father. Chris seems to be leaning toward
the A Child Needs to Know Their Father school of thought, while Kris is
from the Thanks for Filling the Cup, Now Get Lost camp. It’s dawning
on them that they might be scrolling through their cell phone contacts
for a donor.
—At the Muff-In, Crutch is complaining to Emmy that her new part-time
gig as a consultant “blows.” Crutch tells her it’s frustrating
they don’t heed her suggestions to give the people what they want. It’s
been two solid weeks since the squishy muffin meeting and still no change.
Apparently they did not teach coma-inducing concepts like “implementation
gap” at Bakersfield Junior College, where Crutch spent over a year
majoring in “various things.”
All Emmy wants to hear is that
Crutch has gotten her first paycheck, because Crutch is still showering
in the ladies’ restroom.
As Crutch bemoans working for
The Man, she suddenly notices a young girl with a strangely full mop
of hair and big doe eyes staring at her nervously. Is that Tatum O’Neal
Crutch gives her an impatient
“What?” Tatum says with awe, “You’re Crutch!” Crutch
is getting fanned for the first time.
Tatum tells Crutch she heard
her amazing music on the internet and adds, “And I think I’m gay,
like you.” Before you can say “baby dyke,” Crutch’s face
goes from happy surprise to alarm.