TV

The L Word Recaps 4.7 “Lesson Number One”

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

Double-dipping: It won’t fly with Tasha. But Alice will.

Semiotics: The quickest way to Bette’s academic, monogamous heart.

Tolerance: You’ll need a whole lot of it to make it through this dry heave of an episode.

THIS WEEK’S GUEST-BIANS: Cybill Shepherd cries into her bourbon; Kristanna Loken speaks in clichés; Sandrine Holt makes Helena pay up.

Not a good morning – Tasha is getting dressed. As she slowly and deliberately puts on her uniform, she has flashbacks to her time in Iraq. She hears the machine guns, feels the harsh desert conditions, sees the blood. She breaks into a sweat and breathes hard and has to hold herself together. So do I, because I’m thinking, “Oh, right. Let’s take a really serious, complex issue – not just an issue, but a dire situation that is depressing the entire country – and see what the writers of a lesbian soap opera can do with it. You know, just throw it into the mix, see how it shakes out. It’ll make for some good drama and thought-provoking discussions.”

Just stop it, L Word. Stop indulging your urge to wax poetic about war and cancer and tolerance and carnivals and abortions and whatever other issues make you feel important, erudite and socially conscious. It’s not going to work. Unless you can make the issue – and in this case, we’re talking about an entire fahhkking war – organic to a story line or essential to a character, it’s just not going to work. It’s going to backfire and make you look stupid and make us all wish for those lame art-schooly intros you used to do.

OK, OK. I guess this stuff probably is essential to Tasha as a character, so we should just hope for the best. But I’m fearing the worst.

Now that really is a good morning – Jodi is sketching. More important, Jodi is wearing a tank top, and she looks really great in it. The subject of her sketch looks even more delicious: Bette is waking up, and she’s wearing nothing but a smile.

Bette signs “Good morning” to Jodi, who’s also wearing a big grin. And then Bette sees the clock and says, “Oh, f—.” She signs, “Got three hours of sleep. You’re exhausting me.” Jodi pretends to play a violin. Hee. Some sign language is universal.

The beauty in the bed stretches in that head-to-toe, bracing way that feels even better than it looks. Jodi gives Bette the sketch she was working on. Bette studies it.

Bette: Is it Gauguin?

Jodi: Sendak.

Jodi, I’m developing a little crush on you: You don’t like kids, you do like tank tops and you’re funny. No wonder you managed to bed the dean.

In response to “Sendak,” Bette and Jodi both do a little knee slap (well, in Bette’s case, a sketchbook slap) that just makes them lovelier. Dorky can be sexy.

Bette says she has to go to work, but Jodi disagrees: “You’re the boss. You could be late.”

And then Jodi makes sure Bette’s late. We almost get a peek at Bette’s assets, but they’re lovingly hidden by Jodi’s hands. Sigh.

As they begin to move together, Bette whispers, “I think I could fall in love with you.” Jodi stops and asks, “Did you say something?” Bette smiles and shakes her head. “Nothing.”

Jodi signs something. Bette says, “You wanna be inside me?” Jodi nods. Bette smiles and says, “Please. Please.”

Oh, yes. Please.

From the divine to the disturbing — Jenny is in the backyard, digging in the dirt. Oh, silly me: She’s digging a grave. For Sounder’s ashes. As she covers them up, she says, “I’m really gonna miss you, Sounder. I’m very, very sorry that I used you. I do care about you, Sounder. I hope that you’re in a much better place now.”

You what? You hope the dog you adopted and then took to the vet to be euthanized, all in the service of your petty need to avenge yourself, is in a better place? You’re unbelievable, Jenny. Every time I start to like you, you do something to remind me how utterly and irredeemably selfish and self-righteous you are.

Jenny puts a carefully decorated rock on the grave, as well as some flowers, and says, “Goodbye, Sounder.” Hey, at least she got to make a little craft project out of it. That makes it all worthwhile.

Max shows up and sits on the porch swing. Jenny says hello and adds, awkwardly, “I like gardening.” Hmmm. So she has to hide this because Max knew nothing of Sounder? Where did Jenny keep that poor beast in between the adoption and the lethal injection? Never mind; I don’t think I want to know.

Max has the latest installment of Lez Girls in his hands.

Jenny: It’s not so bad, right? I mean, Alice overreacted to the first installment, but, I mean, this one’s not that bad, right?

Max: I don’t know, Jenny. I mean, there’s some stuff about Bette in here that’s pretty harsh.

Jenny: I don’t have a character named Bette.

Max: OK. “Bev.” Whatever. I just … I don’t think you should send it.

Jenny: Bette, of all people, understands how artists create. Bette’s not stupid: She understand the difference between reality and fiction.

Max: But everybody knows who your characters are based on. And it’s not right to expose your friends like this.

Jenny: Why don’t you go back to your stuido and lift some weights? I don’t think you understand my story.

Max: [throwing the pages down] Whatever.

I know this will surprise you, Max, but I am unequivocally on your side and would like to see more of you, especially if it means seeing less of Jenny.

Breakfast is served — Bette rounds the corner to see that Jodi has put breakfast on the table. Forget that: Feast your eyes instead. This must be the tank top episode, because now Bette’s wearing one too. Hello!

Bette: [admiring the spread] Everything is an art to you, right?

Jodi: Everything is desire.

Bette: Well, desire can’t be everything.

Jodi: No?

Bette: No. There are responsibilities.

Then they both sign something. I’m sure we can find out exactly what they say in the comments on this recap. I can tell you they’re also saying a lot with their eyes, and then with their lips as they kiss again. But Bette makes Jodi stop and says she has to go to work.

Bette’s phone rings. It’s Phyllis. Jodi nods, but her expression is one of boredom and irritation. I do wonder whether the responsible, career-minded dean and the hedonistic, unfettered sculptor can find a way to make love last. And now that I’ve written that, I wonder whether I’m in some sort of pulp fiction novel.

Phyllis is calling from home, where she’s drinking and crying and overacting. She says she just can’t seem to pull herself together.

Bette suggests that Phyllis go in to the office and distract herself with work. Jodi grabs the phone and says, “Phyllis, just stay where you are. We’re coming over.” She gives the phone back to Bette with a wink.

Bette instinctively covers her tracks: “Yeah, that was Jodi Lerner. She came over early this morning.” But Jodi gives her a “what’s wrong with you?!” look, so Bette tries again: “Um, actually, she came over last night, and we spent the night together. We’ve been seeing each other. Yes, she’s a lesbian.”

That’s like the kind of “over-helping” Willow Rosenberg used to do. It’s OK, Bette. Just breathe.

Bette hangs up and tells Jodi she’s bad. Just to prove it, she kisses her again. Awww. They’re cute together. And they wear tank tops. Tina who?

The sharing table at the Planet — Helena is moping. She blew her wad (a wad she didn’t even have, really) at that high-stakes poker game, and now she’s gotta pay with a pound of flesh. Naked flesh. Our gang is helping her look on the bright side:

Jenny: Helena, we’ve all been whores at one time or another.

Kit: You gotta do what you gotta do.

Shane: Everyone’s done things for money they’re not proud of. It doesn’t make you a whore.

Alice: Yeah, but she’s not gonna sleep with this woman just to pay off a gambling debt. Are you?

Helena: What else am I gonna do, Alice? I’m [pause for dramatic effect] gonna be a whore.

Jenny: Hang on a sec. Helena, didn’t you say that she was really beautfiul?

Alice: Oh, she’s stunning.

Jenny: Really?

Helen: Does that make any difference, if I’m f—ing a beautiful woman for money? I don’t think so.

Oh, but it does, Helena, judging by the expressions on the faces facing you.

Alice: Yeah. Yeah, it helps.

Shane: I’d like to say that I was f—ing showing off my underwear for the whole world to see, and that felt pretty whorish.

Jenny: You see, Helena? Everyone is a whore in their life at one time or another.

Let me take this opportunity to point out that Jenny still doesn’t know the basics of pronoun-antecedent agreement, and yet has been published in The New Yorker.

Kit: Princess of Darkness has spoken. We’ve all been there one way or another. Once I gave a blow job to a horn player.

Helena, Alice, Jenny and Shane: [blank looks directed at Kit]

Kit: So I could get a line of cocaine!

Helena: And afterwards, how did you feel?

Kit: High. I was a high ho.

Badass Kit! I would say I’ve missed you, but I think this is the first time you’ve really shown up this season. Maybe ever.

Shane tells Helena that it’s just one moment in her life and won’t define who she is. Helena seems to accept this.

A roadside breakfast — Papi and Tasha are eating breakfast outside, accompanied by Papi’s limo and Tasha’s motorcycle. Papi says they should go to the Planet next time, because it’s good food and new people.

Papi: You need to get the f— outta Long Beach, Tash. Explore some new portals and s—.

Tasha says she’s just not into that stuff, but Papi says experiencing new things and meeting new people is a good attitude toward life in general. Tasha’s more concerned about the “dipping in” thing: “Picking up chicks of every culture, just so you can say you had one of everything? I don’t wanna be some chick’s black girl experience.”

Papi says that’s not how Alice sees Tasha at all. But she admits that may be why Alice went for it with “the professor lady” and with Gilligan, er, I mean with Papi herself.

Tasha: Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean, she “went for it” with you?

Papi says it didn’t even mean anything, but Tasha stands up and hollers that it means something to her. Hey, Papi, did you see that MP badge on Tasha’s arm? Maybe she’ll throw you in the brig and you can mack on all the insubordinators.

Tasha says Papi’s s— is so old and she needs to grow up. “You know what, we just got different values. Different codes of conduct. It is what it is, man.” Tasha hops on her bike and drives away.

I feel you, Tasha: You actually have a code of conduct. Papi’s code is definitely cracked.

Cubicle chatter — Max is strolling by some cubicles at his office. The various denizens comment as he walks by, saying they can see how he used to be a girl, his hips are kinda big, etc. But wait, it was all a fantasy: Bobby Ewing’s not dead! He’s in the shower! It was a dream!

The people in the cubes are really just working and ignoring Max — except for one guy, who says that what Max did — standing up for Megan — was “totally righteous” and he has a lot of respect for him. Then the guy adds, “My brother’s gay too. I’m cool with it.”

Max smiles and walks away. Um. Huh? So, what, people think that Max is a gay guy, or a butch lesbian, or what, exactly? Well, whatever they think, I guess Max still has a job — for now, at least.

The Planet — Helena is flipping a coin, still trying to decide whether to sleep with Catherine Rothberg. Jenny says there has to be a better way and takes the quarter. Oh, I can see it now: She’ll take that quarter home and add it to the many jars of quarters under her bed, because she’s secretly been a kleptomaniac this whole time and also takes a baseball bat to parking meters on the weekends. It’ll be in the next installment of Lez Girls: “Drawn and Quartered,” complete with rudimentary sketches of Sounder with quarters on his eyelids.

Alice shakes her computer — don’t do that to your shiny MacBook Pro, Alice! (I have one too. See how well we’d get along?) It seems her site has been crashing a lot and it’s driving her “f—ing nuts.”

Well, that was an enlightening scene.

Shay’s school — Shay and Jared (Paige’s kid) are in trouble. Some kids were calling them gay because their moms are gay. Shay punched one of the taunters.

Paige says, “Good for you, Shay.” She says it’s really the other kids’ parents’ fault for teaching their kids that it’s OK to persecute others.

Jared: My mom is not gay.

Paige: That doesn’t make it OK that they said those things.

Shay: [to Shane] Are you gay?

Shane: Yeah. I am.

The principal asks the boys to go out in the hall. He suggests that Paige and Shane ask the boys to apologize. Paige thinks the other boys should apologize, to Shay and Jared and then to the whole school. “You have to let these kids know that you will not tolerate the use of the word gay as an insult.” The principal says it’s not the school’s job to form the kids’ characters, and anyway, he doesn’t know how to talk to the kids about this. Paige says she and Shane will do it if he can’t handle it.

I can’t wait. It’s been too long since I last sat through a half-assed, self-congratulatory recitation of platitudes and homilies. Also, Shane’s going to scare the bejeezus out of those kids if she doesn’t get a haircut first. “Run, Mommy, it’s a crazy haystack head creature!”

A movie lot — Tina and her boss are discussing Lez Girls. Tina’s boss really wants the movie rights, but Tina doesn’t think she’s the right executive for the project.

Tina: I don’t like the story.

Aaron: Oh, come on, Nina.

Tina: Lez Girls is fiction. And I’m not Nina.

Nina. Neener, neener, Nina! You so are!

Aaron says everyone knows Tina is Nina, so he wants her to renew her friendship with Jenny and get the rights. Tina says it’s an awkward situation. Aaron asks whether it’s more awkward than being out of a job.

Aaron: You know, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. Your ex really cheat on you with a plumber?

Tina: It was a carpenter. And it was fiction.

Yeah, we can tell that, Tina, because your neck is all strained and sinewy again. Jenny should have named your character Frillneck Lizard.

At the craft services table, Tina juices a carrot just to show how pissed off she is. There is an easy Freudian joke here, but sometimes a carrot is just a carrot.

Phyllis’ house — Bette and Jodi try to console Phyllis, but they’re really too busy gazing into each other’s eyes to be good listeners. Also, Jodi, nobody really needs to hear an Alice Walker quote (the one that says you can’t have an open heart until you’ve broken your heart, blah blah) at a time like this. Bette finds it fascinating, though.

While Cybill chews the scenery (and some Baskin Robbins), Bette and Jodi tell their stories of their coming-out affairs. Bette’s first lover was Phoebe, a Yale drama student. She takes herself back to that heady time:

Bette: “She’s f—ing brilliant; she’s gorgeous. We talk intensely about art and theater and semiotics and race.”

Right. I am officially out of your league, Bette, because even when I was a navel-gazey college student, I didn’t try to seduce women with semiotics. “Oh, baby, let me be the signified to your signifier.”

But OK, I’ll bite: If the reference to semiotics is supposed to make us think about sign language, I guess that’s sort of interesting. It’s definitely sexy, the way Bette has become a sign language prodigy and is embracing the whole thing. And in exploring this new kind of abstraction, she’s simultaneously getting back in touch with her body — but now I’m rolling my eyes at my own pomposity and would rather join Phyllis on the couch for some ice cream and bourbon.

Back to Bette’s story: She got drunk with Phoebe and they stayed in bed for three days. Bette was ready to dedicate her life to building sets and changing the world through theater, but then Phoebe’s ex came back to claim her. Oh, Bette. Only you would have a coming-out drama that’s actually about a drama student. How meta.

Alice’s gold mine — Max is helping Alice with her tech problems. He says he’s going to go into the server and check her “weblog history.” Blah. I guess you mean web server log, but whatever you mean, I don’t know how you ended up with your own office at work. What’s your title? Jargon Misuser? Vocabularifyicationator?

Alice thanks Max for his help. Jenny says, “Thank me, I was the one who called him!” Jenny. Could you be more solipsistic? Did you also call the sun this morning and say “Hey, we’re gonna need you to rise again this morning, OK? Oh, and oxygen, could you make sure you float around in the air a little bit today? Thanks, guys. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

Max says he needed to get out of the office anyway. Helena reminds him that they can’t fire him, but he says they can make his life miserable.

Max pulls up some usage statistics for OurChart. He’s amazed: The site has had 40,000 hits in the last hour; that’s why it keeps crashing. Jenny makes a shocked face as if she actually understands what that means. Max, whatever: like anybody talks about “hits” anymore.

Alice says she should just sell it; she’s been offered 10 grand. Max says her site is worth 10 times more than that. “One hundred thousand dollars?” asks Jenny, proving she can do rudimentary math. Max starts to talk about social networking and streaming video and blogs and instant messaging, and offers to help Alice out: “It’s what I do.”

Kit stops by just in time to hear the news:

Alice: Kit, Max is gonna help me become an Internet mogul.

Kit: I got a couple o’ Bill Gateseseseseses. Don’t forget it started right here at the Planet, and do not forget my black ass when y’all get rich.

Somebody check: Is there a horn player nearby? Because Kit seems to be out of her mind at the moment, not to mention almost out of her shirt.

Papi saunters up. Jenny gives her all the credit for the success of OurChart, but Papi says, “I got enough flak for that s— today.”

Aaaand … ? That’s all? Does it feel like there are a lot of abruptly ended scenes in this episode, or is it just me? I guess last week’s perfectly paced episode spoiled me a little. Come back, Angela Robinson!

Phyllis’ lamentations — Jodi is telling her coming-out tale. Lucy was her first girl, but she was also her first deaf lover. This worries Bette a little:

Bette: So you think the sex was better, then, with a deaf lover?

Jodi: No. No, no, no, not better. Different. We’re attuned to each other in different ways.

Bette: So you mean you can’t go as deep, though.

Jodi: Hmmm, let me cast my mind back for just a moment to this morning. I can’t imagine going any deeper than that. Can you?

Bette just giggles. She leans in for a kiss, but Phyllis barks, “Back to me.” Jodi finishes her tale: It didn’t work out with Lucy because Jodi realized she wasn’t capable of monogamy.

Bette: What?

Boy, was there a world of meaning in that what. Phyllis hands Bette a box of chocolates. Jodi just looks confused.

Loose lips — Tina is meeting Jenny at the Planet. She stops to say hello to Kit, who is friendly and tells her to come by anytime, even if she feels ostracized. Tina seems to think that such a warm welcome deserves a slap in the face: She tells Kit she’s sorry about the Angus thing, not realizing that Kit doesn’t know about the Angus thing yet. Kit thinks she’s talking about Angus’ recent depression (make that excessive eye-rolling and whining) over being kicked out of the band.

Tina says she’s glad Bette confronted Angus, and wants Kit to know that she would have fired Hazel if Angus hadn’t ended it. She thinks Kit’s amazing and very evolved for being so calm about the whole thing. Kit just plays along, but then she goes into her office and leaves a message for Bette, telling her she needs to talk to her as soon as possible.

Poor Kit. You look like you’re about to pass out. You also sorta look like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, but I think that’s the makeup department’s fault. For once, Angus isn’t to blame.

Elsewhere, Papi asks Alice why they’re all so mean to Tina.

Alice: Well, she went straight, and it feels like a betrayal.

Papi: We fight our whole lives not to get judged by who we sleep with, and that is exactly what you guys are doin’ to Tina.

Uh, Papi? You mean for who you sleep with, not by who you sleep with. Or maybe you don’t. It’s hard to say.

Alice just sort of gives Papi a “simmer down” face, so Papi explains that she had a misunderstanding with Tasha.

Alice: You did? About what?

Papi: Oh, that whole double-dipping thing isn’t exactly flying with her.

Alice: Double-dipping?

Papi: Yeah, you dipping into me, and then dipping into her —

Alice: Wait, first of all, I have not dipped into her, OK? She’s very Officer and a Gentleman. She really wants to take things slow.

Is that why your shirt is buttoned all the way up to your eyebrows, Alice? What exactly are you wearing, anyway?

Papi says Tasha is pretty traditional. Alice says, “She’s in the f—in’ Army, so, yeah.” Papi says the Army stuff is Tasha’s whole life: “You need to forget her if you can’t get with who she is.”

I hate to admit it, but she has a point. She has a point about Tina, too, but it’s ridiculous that Papi is schooling Alice in anything. Except, you know, exaggerated enunciation and kooky coiffures.

The shill — Tina is trying to get the rights to Lez Girls. She’s so smarmy and oily and skeezy, I feel like I need a Wet-Nap.

Jenny’s not sure she wants her book to be a movie. But she would definitely want a woman director.

Jenny: I mean, like, it’s about women, so you have to have a woman on set. And, I mean, you’re not a lesbian anymore, and in the film business, they don’t like the author on set because they become too [air quotes] precious about their material, so …

Precious. Jenny, you are to precious as diamond is to coal. As purple is to lavender. As brain-dead is to absent-minded. As Bette is to hot. As — OK, I’ll stop. Wait, one more: As Papi is to mierda.

Tina reminds Jenny that movies reach a lot of people. “It could make a huge difference. A teenage girl in the Midwest who’s afraid to come out of the closet: She could see your movie. It could change her life.” Yeah, it could scare her to the point of going far, far back into that closet and never coming out.

But Jenny is sold: She says “f— it.” Tina is relieved and calls an agent friend of hers to see if she’ll take Jenny on as a client. Yes, please: Let’s get Jenny an agent and a movie deal and a premiere and whatever else will make her ego big enough to block out the sun and stop global warming. “Thank me; I told the ice caps to stop melting!”

An Army base — Alice is charming her way into Tasha’s office by chatting up the cartoonishly stony-faced guard at the gate. When Alice finally makes her way to Tasha’s spartan office, however, Tasha is less than charmed. But she listens while Alice says her piece:

Alice: I wanted to tell you, uh, that I really like you.

Tasha: So you drove all the way from L.A. to Los Alamitos, talked your way onto a military base to tell me you really like me.

Alice: Yeah. I wanted you to know that you’re not a portal to me.

Tasha: Oh, my. Portal. What the f—, did Papi talk to you?

Alice: It doesn’t matter. Because I talk about portals all the time on my radio show; everybody knows about it. I just, you know, I didn’t want it to come back and bite me in the ass with you. So. I didn’t want you to think that you were my foray into the land of hot Army chicks.

Tasha: Yeah, hot black Army chicks.

Alice: Are you black?

Tasha finally laughs at that. Ah, a beautiful, smiling woman in uniform: What’s not to love?

Tasha asks Alice if she’s ready for a mission. Alice salutes in her adorkable way and follows Tasha out.

Tasha: And you don’t salute indoors.

Alice: Oh.

Leisha, you continue to have impeccable comic timing. A simple “oh” is as funny as a thousand words from any of the other wannabes who hang around you.

But what’s with the costumers? Why are they making you look like (as my girl says in the podcast) an Andrews Sister?

Tasha introduces Alice to some helicopter pilots. One of them hands Alice some ear protection: It seems Alice is going up.

Dressing the part — Helena is trying to find the perfect outfit for her sordid encounter with Catherine Rothberg. She tries on dress after dress after dress — “Too public schoolgirl. Too Sound of Music.” — then settles on something that says, “I’m here to do what you want, but I still have my self-respect.”

That should have been fun. It was sort of meh. But you do have nice arms, Helena. Unemployment agrees with you.

The “ask and tell” helicopter — Tasha does something that seems very unsafe: She takes Alice’s hand. Alice looks like she’s ready to jump out of the helicopter, but the pilot says, “Don’t worry. We’re all family up here.”

Alice: Ahhhh kay. Tricky soldiers! Yeah, I see it now.

Tasha tells her not to try the hand-holding anyplace else on the base.

So they go flying over SoCal, which is not the prettiest vista in the world. But Tasha seems to think Alice’s face is lovely.

The indecent, or maybe indifferent, proposal — Helena has arrived to pay her debt. Catherine reveals that the game tonight is not poker: It’s strip gin rummy. “If you win, I’ll consider your debt paid in full. But if you lose, you pay up.”

Helena just sighs. Where is the tension? Where is the excitement? Why am I bored?

Another ride — Tasha has just taken Alice for a quick spin on her motorcycle. She leans Alice up against her Mini and they kiss.

Alice reaches for the buttons on Tasha’s uniform and asks whether she lives nearby, but Tasha still wants to take it slow.

Tasha: Look, I know this might not make a lot of sense the way you roll, but I’m just coming from a place where I really need to be sure.

It’s sweet. And hot. Alice suggests they go on a date. Sweet!

Gin — Helena is nearly naked, having apparently lost a few hands already. Catherine admits she’s making up the rules as they go along: “Would you rather f— me now?” But Helena continues to play the oddly boring game.

I’m so confused. There are naked women on my TV, but they might as well be pickled cactuses, for all the thrill I’m getting out of it.

Helena eventually wins the game. And then she steps behind Catherine and tells her to sit down. Things start to perk up — oh, fine, end the scene before they even have sex. I don’t even play cards and I feel like I’ve just drawn dead.

The in-school special — Paige and Shane are talking to the kids about Why You Shouldn’t Think Gay Is a Bad Word. Did I accidentally switch over to Lifetime? The scene actually starts like this: “So now we’re gonna talk about tolerance. Now, who here can tell me what tolerance means?”

Before they can get too far into the discussion, a concerned parent stands up and says they shouldn’t get too detailed because there are tender ears in the room. Some other guy stands up and says they don’t need to hear about the “gay lifestyle.”

It’s difficult to capture the inanity of this. There’s an outburst from Jared, forced laughter from the other kids and a heartfelt testimonial from Shay — “My sister is gay.” I have my own outburst, laughter, and testimonial, in the form of an eye-roll, a pained grimace and a blue streak of cursing.

Jodi’s studio — Bette stops by. Jodi says, “I missed you last night.” Bette’s expression is very dean-like and serious. She says she needs to talk to Jodi alone.

Tom: I’ll go walk around campus, I guess.

Tom. Do you think we care? Go walk into the Pacific. Walk to Seattle. Just leave.

Bette doesn’t think the non-monogamy thing is going to work for her. I know her suit is working for me, though.

Jodi says she’s not interested in dating other people right now anyway.

Bette: But that could change tomorrow. Isn’t that what you’re telling me?

Jodi: You just got out of an eight-year relationship. I don’t think you’re ready to get married again.

Bette: Don’t tell me what I’m ready for.

Jodi asks Bette what she wants to do. Bette says she just doesn’t know.

I hate my life — One of the parents at the school has just recognized Shane as the underwear model. Shane gives a little speech:

Shane: I did that ad because Shay broke his arm. See, I’m actually a hairdresser, and I co-own a skateboard shop. So I don’t make a lot of money. And I didn’t have medical insurance at the time. Because before Shay came to live with me, I never took responsibility for anything. You see, when, uh, when I was little, my parents left me. And the thought of having to care for someone, well, it was scary. But I don’t think I have to tell you that loving Shay and caring for him has been the most amazing and important thing I’ve ever done. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. And I don’t think being gay has anything to do with that.

Does it have anything to do with your broom-bristle hair or the fact that I feel like I’ve just been to Sunday school?

I’m sorry, Shane. I’m sorry you’ve had to endure this story line and give your Tin Man persona a heart and give speeches that belong on greeting cards. And I’m really, really sorry you made me witness the whole thing. As those fakely giggling kids would say, take it back!

The bidding war — It seems the deal with Tina has not been sealed — several studios are interested in buying Jenny’s book. One of the studio reps says Katie Holmes is interested in playing the role of “Jessie,” but Jenny says she imagines someone tall and blonde and model-like in the role. I want to laugh, but I’m too dazzled by the height of Jenny’s hair and the spangles she’s wearing.

Tina shows up and is more than a little surprised to see all the studio moguls. “F–k f–k f–k f–k,” says Jenny. She pretends to be Tina’s buddy.

You know, you two totally deserve each other. Please ride off into the sunset of egoism and leave the rest of us alone.

Chat and run — Bette is working. Her iChat window opens: It’s Jodi.

Jodi: I’ve been thinking

Bette: So have I

Jodi: I could fall in love with you too

And then Jodi goes offline, before Bette can ask how Jodi knows Bette whispered those sweet words in her ear. By the way, isn’t iChat cool?

But you’re not cool, Jodi. You’re sorta cowardly for just running away like that.

Doing the dishes — Shane and Paige are cleaning up after the family dinner. It’s so homey. They crack open a couple of beers and drink to their “intense” day. And then as if all this teaching-our-children-well and making-a-happy-home stuff weren’t bad enough, we get the worst line ever uttered:

Paige: Well, you know what I think. Since we already did the time, we might as well do the crime.

Shane giggles awkwardly and then just says, “Yeah.” Next thing you know, they’re doing it on the kitchen table. Or they would be, if they weren’t interrupted.

And I would be commenting on the considerable chemistry between Shane and Paige, if I weren’t interrupted by Betty. Their song “Barnyard Brawl” is screaming over this scene. Oops, part of the screaming was me.

“Another time,” says Shane. OK, but not if you bring Betty again. I’m not into that bestiality stuff. The song, I’m talking about the subject matter of the song, not the band members!

NEXT TIME ON THE L WORD: Tasha finally feels sure; Kit upstages Angus; Tina misses Bette.

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

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