Bar drama — It’s Chris’ birthday. Happy birthday! She’s 40: one year closer to menopause, seniors’ discounts and death. Kris adjusts the birthday girl’s paper birthday hat — the kind with the elastic string that scared me as a little kid.
Chris groans at the idea of The Big 4-0, but Jen reassures her that 40 is the new 30. Which makes 25 the new 15. Some of you are doing things with girls that are illegal in most states.
After everyone clinks their drinks in a cheery toast, Jen notices Sam’s sad birthday clown face. Elizabeth, the hot psychotherapist Sam’s been trying to get on the couch, has done what few women have done before: She blew Sam off for a date. Maybe she was busy therapizing unsuspecting people at the mall.
Meanwhile, the girls can’t help but notice two women arguing on the other side of the bar. Upon closer inspection, they see it’s Sienna, Jen’s ex, and her wife, Emily.
Jen smirks with the satisfaction of having dodged that bullet and says dryly: “Gee. They’re having trouble? It was a marriage made in heaven.” She throws another dart at the bar dartboard while imaging Sienna’s face.
A dart hits the board with each declaration. Nice Jen has left the building.
The girls aren’t finding Jen’s new hard candy shell very sweet. Sam thinks New Jen is too extreme, which is odd, considering she used to ride Old Jen for being nice, in the extreme. Kris warns Jen about misaligning her chakras. Chakra, schmakra. Jen raises her glass and toasts herself.
Running late — The next day, Jen has overslept for a meeting with some network suits, and now she’s late for her very important date. Luckily, Sam has stopped by with some fresh, hot Beever, which doesn’t mean what it used to since they broke up years ago.
Jen’s hair does something interesting while she stuffs her bag full of raw stripper footage for her meeting. Sam reveals her motive for the morning visit: She wants to dissect Elizabeth.
Sam wonders why Elizabeth would tell her to “do some work” on herself if they are ever going to have dinner together. What kind of “work” is required to have dinner, other than some quick Zagat research and, in the worst-case scenario, a brush-up on the salad fork/dessert fork conundrum?
Sam can’t ask Elizabeth to explain herself because Elizabeth is too busy rowing up and down Seattle ‘s waterways to address her compulsion for judging and fixing people against their will, or her habit of being attracted to flawed women whom she won’t date until they work on their flaws. Is it me, or are therapists usually even crazier than we are?
Before Jen can dispense any pearls of dating wisdom, she takes a sip of her piping hot coffee. The lid pops off, sending a cascade of Sumatra down the front of her shirt.
A conference call with the network execs from the hospital burn unit might work, too.