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“The L Word” Recaps 4.8 “Lexington and Concord”

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

Donuts: Nothing says “I’m ready to be with a woman” like a dozen from Dunkin’.

Déjà vu: What you might get when Tina looks at Bette.

Downward: Kit’s spiral, with stops along the way at drinking and dancing.

THIS WEEK’S GUEST-BIANS: Kristanna Loken teaches Shane how to kill time; Sandrine Holt teaches Helena how to put on a show.

A fantasy land – Jenny is sleeping. Well, I guess that’s Jenny. She looks more like some sort of fairy tale character, with her curly locks, lacy nightie and the golden sun kissing her face. There’s even a fairy tale flute in the background.

She wakes and glides peacefully through the shimmering sunlight, cradling a bouquet of flowers, caressed by a gentle breeze. It’s a happy land. Oh, but where is she taking the flowers? Her posy is for a pooch: She’s placing the flowers on Sounder’s grave. She’s also dusting off the stone that says R.I.P. Sounder.

Jenny: Oh, Sounder. Am I gonna rot in hell?

As she lovingly lays the nosegay on the soft soil, an answer comes to her – in the form of a ragged paw, springing forth from the loamy earth and clawing at her delicate wrist! Run, Jenny! Flee from the foul hound of hell!

Clearly that canine should have been named Carrie.

Jenny, I do feel for you. Your dreams are coming true: one book published, a second book excerpted in The New Yorker, movie studios battling to make you a star. And yet you’re racked with guilt, haunted by a sad little dog named Sounder and a mean little critic named Stacey. You’re Sue Snell in Carrie: pretty and popular but unable to ignore the ones who seem to suffer for no reason and crushed by the knowledge that you may have contributed to their pain. What will become of you, Jenny/Debbie/Sue, JDS, Jennifer Diane Schecter? How will you navigate this brave new world?

Jenny wakes with a start, checking her arm for scrapes and scratches. She’s intact. Externally, anyway.

The hottest tea party in town – Tina and Bette are having tea at Bette’s house. Yeah, I know that’s hard to believe, but that’s really what they’re doing. In a friendly way, even. And Bette’s wearing a tank top, which just makes it that much friendlier.

Bette says she’s heard about the battle for the Schecter movie rights. Tina says it’s not a lot of fun for her, but she has to do it because Lez Girls is the “hottest property in town.”

Tina: That’s what I hate about the movie business.

Bette: Well, she’s not very kind to you.

Tina: I have to kiss her ass because every studio in town is blowing smoke up it, and all I really want to do is wring her neck. And that character, Nina – is that really what people think of me?

Bette: No. Tina! Come on, Jenny’s a fiction writer. I mean, her story is funny and it’s over the top; that’s why people are loving it.

Tina: You said some of those things.

Bette: In pain and anger. I mean, I know our relationship was real. I know you loved me and it wasn’t just some trivial experiment to you.

Tina watches Bette sip her tea as if she’s watching the sun come up or beholding some other stunning, revelatory thing. ‘Cause she is.

Tina: I still love you, you know.

Bette: [simply] I love you, too.

To paraphrase one of Laurel Holloman’s costars in The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love, what are we supposed to do with this information? I guess we should do what they’re doing, or at least what Bette is doing: recognize it, accept it, sit with it, live with it. Tina, however, may be embarking on some other course of action:

Tina: It’s so hard, Bette. I miss you so much sometimes. I miss our life.

Bette takes a deep breath and puts down her tea. I never knew the placing of a cup could be so profound. It’s like J. Alfred Prufrock is singing to me all of a sudden.

Tina: I miss the way we communicated subtly … I miss the way that we worked together to make everything around us so beautiful. I miss being surrounded by women and feeling part of something so secret and special.

Bette: Come here.

Tina and Bette. Bette and Tina. And me and my poor, conflicted heart. Maybe it will be “worth it, after all/After the cups, the marmalade, the tea/Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me.” Good God, am I really comparing The L Word to a T.S. Eliot poem? Blame Dean Porter: She brings it out in me.

Tina: Sometimes I think I made a mistake.

Bette: You don’t have to think about it that way.

And then, just as Tina seems to be about to go in for a kiss — and before we all pass out from forgetting to breathe — the screen door squeaks, and a smiling Jodi crosses the threshold into what used to be Bette and Tina’s house of beauty.

Bette doesn’t hesitate a bit: She hops right up and introduces Tina and Jodi. When she signs “Tina,” she adds, “my ex,” but I think maybe Jodi figured that out before the door squeaked. Jodi and Tina shake hands cordially, but Tina looks something less than cordial when Jodi and Bette kiss.

And then the most wonderful tension-breaker occurs: Angelica waves hello to Jodi and says, “Hi.” There are already too many screen grabs in this recap, but I can’t resist this adorable shot. That is one unbelievably cute kid.

Jodi goes over to Angelica and signs to her — and Angelica signs right back. So I guess Jodi has been learning how to handle the hassle of kids, then?

As Tina watches Jodi and Angelica interact, her face goes from surprised to aghast.

Tina: You’re teaching her to sign.

Bette: I haven’t even done anything. She just started doing it on her own.

Jodi: Babies learn quick. Sign language is easy for them.

But the image of the happy family of Bette, Jodi and Angelica is not easy for Tina to see. She smiles in a stretched kind of way and says, “You must be spending a lot of time here.” Bette and Jodi just grin like the proverbial gay cats who swallowed the we’re-sleeping-together canary.

Gay America runs on Dunkin’ — Paige and Shane are chatting on the porch swing while Jared and Shay watch TV. It seems Paige has brought Dunkin’ Donuts and coffee, as well as her flirtatious body language and her come-hither glance. She teases Shane when Shay says he can’t pause the TV for doughnut runs.

Paige: You don’t have TiVo?

Shane: No, we don’t have TiVo. He also doesn’t have his own room. I’m a terrible person.

You’re not a terrible person, but, um, does Shay even have a room? Usually when people say a kid doesn’t have his own room, they mean he’s sharing with a sibling, not bunking down with the coffee table, an easy chair and anyone who happens to pass through screaming, “F— you, Stacey Merkin!”

Across the backyard, we see Bette and Jodi; they’re getting Angelica ready to go with Mama T. They wave and say hey to Shane. As Anna points out in the podcast, this seems like a callback to the end of Episode 1 of Season 1, in which Shane stumbles by Bette and Tina’s house in the morning on her way home (even though she wasn’t living with Jenny at the time). Lo, how the tables have turned: Bette and Tina are no longer the happy picture of couplehood, while Shane and Paige are enjoying a morning of kids and coffee. No wonder my neck hurts — this whole show is one big instance of whiplash.

Paige is trying to convince Shane that she’s really ready to get involved with a woman. She’s done it before.

Shane: You’re not the first straight girl I’ve been with.

Paige: Uh … straight girl?

Shane: Oh, I’m sorry, should I be calling you something different?

Paige: Well, I’d rather not be called anything. I’m sexually fluid.

Does that sound familiar, Shane? Remember when you said “sexuality is fluid,” way back in Season 1? Paige knows how to play your game.

They discuss that age-old question of whether a relationship with a woman is really different than a relationship with a man. Paige is convinced that it would be better.

Paige: I mean, I find men physically attractive but emotionally retarded.

Shane says women are just the same or even worse. So Paige tries to bust Shane’s “mythology”: “I’ve watched you with Shay. You’re not emotionally retarded.” But Shane says it’s different with him.

Paige assures Shane that she’s not expecting Shane to jump into a relationship with her. She says teasingly that she’ll give her a week or two. These two do seem to get along very well. I don’t think that’s just the doughnuts talking. Nor can we attribute it to the fact that they’re both wearing Converse — though that is pretty cool.

The Planet — Angus and Kit are getting ready to put on a show. Angus reveals a big backdrop that says “Kit Porter: Bareback.” Kit doesn’t seem too enthused, so Angus says he can get someone to work on it if she’s not happy with it.

Kit: No; no point in changing anything now. What’s done is done.

Angus: Well, OK. As long as you’re happy.

Kit: I didn’t say that.

Kit, if you’re not careful, you’re going to outrank Angus on the mope-o-meter.

Kit chats with Papi, who’s sipping espresso. Papi’s psyched about the Bareback party. Wait; that didn’t sound right. I mean the release party for Kit’s album, Bareback. Papi says Tasha’s mom is Kit’s biggest fan. That’s gotta kinda hurt — finding out you’re popular among people’s moms, I mean.

Papi says she’s going to buy Tasha’s mom a CD. “And I’m gonna try and get me some of that fierce Kitty too.” Kit says tonight just might be Papi’s lucky night.

Angus interrupts to ask if Kit needs anything; he has to go pick up a guitar. Kit explains that someone stole Angus’ guitar from her office.

Angus: F—in’ bummer, right?

Papi: Yeah, f—ing bummer, dude.

I wish I could type the way Papi says that: I guess you could call it an extremely enunciated white-guy accent. It’s hilarious.

Angus takes the hint and leaves, so Papi asks Kit, “You gonna tell me when you’re ready to drop that boy?” I’m thinking she’ll be ready any minute now, Pops.

Hey, wait: Someone took Angus’ guitar? Kit, did you forget to lock your office? Or did you forget not to trash everything in your office that belonged to Angus?

Negotiating — Bette and Jodi are confronting the elephant in the room, namely, Jodi’s tendency toward polyamory. When I say “the elephant in the room,” however, I should say “the elephant sunning on the patio,” because that’s what Bette and Jodi are doing. And you know what that means, don’t you? Another eye-popping, swoon-inducing, drool-eliciting tank top!

Bette: I don’t know how to do this, you know? And I can’t … I can’t, um …

Jodi: What can’t you do?

Bette: [sighing and shaking her head] You’re so beautiful. I’m so into you, and I can’t handle it. I don’t want to feel this way when I know you’re seeing other people.

Jodi: Are you saying you don’t want to see me anymore?

Bette: [still sighing] I don’t know.

Jodi: What do you want me to do? I don’t want to lose you. I’ll cancel my date tonight.

Bette: No. God. No, no. Jesus, it feels like f—in’ high school. No.

Jodi: It’s OK!

Bette: [getting up and pacing, turning her back to Jodi] You know what? The truth is, I’m just not as evolved as you. I’m just not as evolved as you.

Jodi: What?

Bette: [facing Jodi and sighing] I tried to tell myself that I can handle it. But when I think about you with … whoever, I … I get jealous. I do. I get jealous. And I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be that person.

Bette turns her back again and exhales slowly. Jodi comes up behind her and strokes her hair, but Bette just looks sad.

As if the Tina-Bette scene weren’t difficult enough — now I’m even more conflicted! Can’t we all just get along?

I’m not taking sides here. Jodi’s right and Bette’s right. It may be an impasse. A breathtaking, tank-topped impasse, but an impasse nonetheless.

I will say this much, however: The not-liking-kids thing and the anti-monogamy thing are deal-breakers to a lot of people. Or at least to a lot of lesbians who have, like, a house and a kid and a sensible car and stuff. So, Jodi, you might want to mention them up front — or at least pre-sex — the next time you meet a hot dean. I know, I know, she’s irresistible, but you just can’t assume “artsy” means “edgy.” A passion for Van Gogh does not an ear-cutter make.

Max’s studio — Max is meeting with a woman named Grace. She seems to have created some sort of fabulous page on OurChart. Not that we can try that for ourselves yet.

I guess this is an interview. Max asks Grace how she found out about OurChart. She says she was looking for music when she was in a Berkeley dance ensemble called Homo Erectus. This makes Max giggle, which is sort of cute: He does that bopping back-and-forth thing that’s not uncommon among geeky types. I once worked with a programmer who managed to fall out of his chair in response to a particularly uproarious email — tangling himself in his headphones in the process and bringing his speakers crashing down on top of him. Ah, cubicle life.

Max compliments Grace’s OurChart page. She thanks him, but notes that the tools are kind of rudimentary.

Max: Yeah. I know. But we’re gonna seriously upgrade soon. It’s just — I have this day job, you know, and they’ve been kind of policing me and stuff. So I’m looking for someone who can help with maintenance and content. Stuff like that.

Grace: I’m a total geek. When I lived in the Bay area, I floated for a bunch of info-tech companies.

Info-tech? Didn’t somebody — probably somebody in the Bay area — simplify that to IT about a kazillion years ago?

Grace says she moved to L.A. because she can get more work as a dancer there, what with all the music videos and whatnot. I would think she could get work anywhere as a professional smiler: Look at the wattage on that thing.

Grace: But I miss San Francisco. There are pretty much no butch women in L.A.

Max: You think so?

Grace: Well, no culture, no community. Everyone’s all into high fashion. Female masculinity isn’t celebrated here.

Max: Yeah, I guess it’s not, really.

Grace: Is that why you became a man?

Max: Why I became a man. No, I am a man. Intrinsically, you know?

Grace: I didn’t mean to offend you. There are a lot of reasons why people transition, and they’re all legitimate as far as I’m concerned.

Then Grace reiterates that she loves the site. Max reminds her that they don’t have much money, but Grace knows that: Apparently she answered an ad for an intern. She makes it clear: “I’d like to work with you, Max. I don’t care about the money.”

Awww. Look at Max grin and squirm in his chair. This is surprisingly sweet. Yay, Mace! Yay, Grax!

Flashback — Where am I? Is this Season 2? Helena is in a swanky hotel room, getting her tootsies tended to. Her kids — remember them? — are watching TV, as is Alice.

Helena asks, “Do you little ones want anything from room service?” Alice answers right along with Wilson and Jun Ying. Hee. Imagine what a cute kid Alice must have been. Actually, scratch that: She was probably a terror like my niece, who could not stop running around and making jokes and burping at the table. She’s outgrown the last one, at least.

Wilson and Jun Ying ask for tiramisu and a banana split. Helena remarks to Alice, “You know, I’ve only got them for the weekend while Winnie’s on retreat at Yaddo, but I don’t know how people cope without a nanny.” Alice is more worried about coping without money: Who’s going to pay for the fancy desserts? Helena says it’s all on Catherine, and anyway, Helena will have doubled her winnings by the time Catherine gets back from Majorca.

Helena: When she staked me in a game last week, I won $50,000.

Alice: Jesus!

Helena: I know! I’m good at this, Alice, you know? I’ve always been good at maths. Catherine thinks I should even go pro.

(And no, “maths” is not a typo — those groovy Brits use the plural!)

Alice thinks the whole thing is really weird and doesn’t understand what Catherine wants from Helena. She also doesn’t get the living-in-a-hotel thing: Does Catherine even have a house? Helena says it’s all quite normal for rich people, and that Catherine has really stood by her. But then Catherine arrives, and Helena’s the one who stands — nervously, and at attention. I’ll bet the words “sugar” and “mama” are on the tip of Alice’s tongue.

Catherine grouses about the “pig farmers” in the Midwest who backed out of a deal and prevented her from going to Majorca. No, I don’t know what she’s talking about either, but I think we’re supposed to be impressed. Helena is, at least — she springs into action when Catherine complains about the loud cartoons in the background.

Alice says she should go. Catherine says she needs her to stay and asks whether she’s booked for the evening. Sadly, it’s not another indecent proposal: She thinks Alice is there to take care of the kids.

Helena: Catherine, actually, um, this is my friend Alice; you met her at the poker. She’s not the babysitter.

Alice: Not the babysitter.

Catherine tries to make nice and invites Alice to stay for lunch, but Alice is so over her already. After she leaves, Catherine gets down to business: There’s a game tonight, and she wants Helena to join her. Helena resists at first — she was planning to play mummy tonight — but changes her tune when Catherine reveals that it’s a $50,000 buy-in.

Helena, Helena, Helena. You just got your soul back: Do you really want to lose it already? Oh, well. You did look a little embarrassed by the whole babysitter mix-up. Still, I’m concerned. Don’t go back to the dark side.

Yet another play date — Paige is dropping off Jared so he can hang out with Shay while she and Shane go to Kit’s release party. Paige has even brought her own babysitter. And Paige seems … hmm, how shall I put this? She seems like she’s looking forward to something. Like she’s shivering with anticipation. Like she’s as corny as Kansas in August. Like she’s something that rhymes with “corny.”

Shane relays the dinner plans to the babysitter: “There’s pizzas and ice cream in the freezer.” Wow! No wonder Shay doesn’t mind sleeping on the couch. Speaking of that, Paige is concerned that Shane will have to sleep on the couch if Shay and Jared fall asleep on her bed. She tells Shane, “Honey, you really need to get your own place.” Uh-oh, we’re already at the “honey” phase! Look out, Shane. Whatever lesson you thought you learned with Carmen seems to be scrawled up on the chalkboard again, in fluorescent colors and all caps.

They tell each other they look good, and drown in each other’s eyes for a few seconds before they kiss. I’m not exaggerating when I say “drown”: There’s some serious chemistry here, not to mention some seriously good kissing. Hot.

You know what else is here? A tie. And shorter, but not different, hair on Shane’s head. Sigh. I guess she’ll always be looking very Shane today.

Speaking of chemistry — Alice opens her apartment door to a smiling, bouquet-wielding Tasha. I just had a brief flashback to Jenny’s bouquet at the beginning of the episode, but I’m OK now.

However, I’m not OK with Alice’s attire. Is this an episode of Gunsmoke or Little House on the Prairie? She looks about as sexy as Ma Ingalls. Maybe we’ve stumbled into one of those small-town museums. Alice, can you teach us how to churn butter or tell us a story about the Oregon Trail? Get the shotgun, Horace: Those stagecoach robbers are comin’ ’round that mountain quicker than you can say “darn tootin'”!

But Alice doesn’t seem demure at all when she pushes Tasha up against the wall for some kisses. Have I already used the word “hot” in this recap? Get used to it.

As Alice puts the flowers in some water, Tasha whips out an album: It’s an old-school Kit Porter platter. Tasha’s taking it along to the release party so Kit can sign it for her mom. Tasha, your smile is unutterably lovely.

The Planet parking lot — Paige and Shane find a spot. Check out Paige’s car: I’m no autophile, but my cousin had a ’60-something Chevy Impala that looked kinda like that. Anyway, it’s red, it’s classic, and I think it’s about to become the love bug. You see, they’re really early, so there’s nobody at the Planet and no reason to go inside.

Paige asks Shane what they should do. However shall they fritter away the time? They smile conspiratorially and then lunge at each other.

Place your bets — Helena and Catherine arrive at their poker game. Helena asks where they are. “We’re home, darling,” says Catherine. Also? We’re done with this scene, which clocked in at 11 seconds. What was the point?

The release party — I guess a lot of time passed on the other side of the L.A. universe. The release party is now in full swing. Bette and Tina have traded tea for cocktails. But they’re picking up right where they left off:

Tina: You seem crazy about her.

Bette: What makes you say that?

Tina: Just the way you looked at her. That look — I know that look.

Then you probably also know that Bette’s giving you that look right this very minute.

But maybe she doesn’t know it, because then Tina says, “You used to look at me like that, back in the day.” Bette, you know where this is heading, don’t you? Is Tina’s bright red martini a flashing warning light to you, or is it just me?

Tina: Are you in love with her?

Bette: God, Tina, I don’t know.

Tina: I think you are.

And Tina seems almost happy for Bette — or maybe she’s just enjoying this gentle teasing. Whatever the reason, I don’t think we’ve seen her smile like that all season.

Bette: It’s way too soon. I don’t — I don’t even want to think about it.

Tina: Why isn’t she here?

Bette: She’s deaf.

Whoa! Well, so much for the détente — that was just nasty. And being deaf is no reason to forgo a release party or any musical event, as you no doubt know full well, Bette. Tsk tsk! Tina is embarrassed and apologizes:

Tina: Oh. Of course. I’m sorry.

Bette: Why isn’t Henry here?

Tina: Oh. He’s uh, I don’t know. Clueless.

Bette: Of course. Sorry.

Don’t look now, Tina, but Bette’s looking at you like that again. Maybe that’s why you’re calling for another red martini.

Tina says she doesn’t blame Bette for gloating, but Bette says she’s not gloating. She starts to reveal the real reason Jodi isn’t there (she has a date, remember?), but guess who shows up and interrupts? That’s right: Jenny. Let the horror show begin. (Don’t blame me: I’m not the one who put her in Carrie at the beginning of the episode.)

Jenny says hello to Bette and tells Tina it’s looking good.

Bette: Oh, what’s looking good for Tina?

I know what’s looking good to Tina.

Jenny summarizes the bidding war: There are three offers on the table, and Jenny’s agents will be there tonight to talk to Tina. Tina wearily asks what the issues are.

Bette: Um. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I don’t understand: Why wouldn’t you just choose Tina over the other buyers?

Jenny: What do you mean?

Bette: Well, first of all, she’s your friend. And if all the offers are in the same ballpark, I think it should just be automatic.

Jenny: Because she’s my friend?

Bette: Absolutely.

Jenny: OK. So if I wanted a teaching position at your university, would you automatically hire me because I’m your friend?

Bette: If I were the dean of the English department.

Jenny: [condescendingly] Bette.

That, or the dean of the Flapper Girls Who Wear Togas department.

Jenny’s agents arrive. Tina swills her martini and say she can’t wait to talk to them. After Jenny leaves, Tina thanks Bette for coming to her defense.

Bette: I just think it should be automatic. I mean, is that crazy? I just think it should be automatic.

Tina: That’s one of the things I love about you.

Bette: What, that I’m a bombastic bully?

Tina: That you’re loyal and unswerving in your convictions.

I think that was probably downright pornographic to Bette’s ears. You’re playing your cards right, Tina. But are you sure you want to? I mean, Bette really was a bombastic bully just then — she didn’t even let you speak. Not that I didn’t enjoy her dressing-down of the oddly dressed authoress. But still.

Don’t come knockin’ — Shane and Paige are fogging up the windows. I used to think that was just an expression, but it really does happen. Especially when — as in this case — the seat belt is up your ass, which is what Paige just said. And then she said, “Put your fingers inside of me. Please.” That’s when I fogged up my laptop screen.

Stereotypes R Us — Jenny’s agents are buffoons. Just what we needed: More straight people ogling the lesbians. Just to prove that not every straight person is a buffoon, Angus stops by. Oh, wait.

The agents thank Tina for her proposal, but they’re not sure she can compete with the likes of Fox Searchlight. Bette interrupts again — Tina seems to resign herself to it — and recites Tina’s accomplishments. Again, half bully, half defender. And all great arms.

While this is transpiring, one of the agents has been working on a proposal of his own: He’s watching Alice and Tasha gaze at each other. He’s stupid enough to give voice to his desires: “You know, you two are so f—ing hot. And I’m into that and, uh, just make the call.”

Bartender! Another round of looks of utter disgust and disbelief, please:

How to handle the male gaze — Helena and Catherine are finding their mark: the “chubster in the toupee.”

Catherine: So you know what to do when the flop comes and the fat man goes all in?

Helena: Make him think he stands a chance?

Catherine: That’s my girl.

As Helena walks over to the chubster’s table, Catherine stops her and pulls her into her arms — and licks her neck. Like you do when you’re surrounded by guys with beer guts and poker chips.

All the gambling geezers stare and spit out wolf whistles. Ick.

Really, really foggy windows — Shane and Paige are still going at it, only now they’re mostly naked. I’m not complaining.

Paige says she wants to spend the night with Shane. Shane jokes about what the children will think, but she’s not opposed to the idea.

Poker-faced — Helena pretends to be ditzy so the guy with the toupee will think he’s got a winning hand. Just to distract him even further, Catherine takes a seat and plants a deep kiss on Helena’s smiling lips. Thank you, Sandrine Holt and Rachel Shelley, for putting a little tongue into it.

The dude with the toupee folds. I still don’t know anything about poker, but I think Helena just won in more ways than one. Somehow it’s not quite as satisfying as that time Maura Tierney won the whole Celebrity Poker thing.

Jerking knees — Max and Grace arrive at the Planet. Max introduces Grace, who’s wearing a T-shirt that says “War is terrorism with a bigger budget.” The group welcomes her; Jenny compliments her T-shirt. They all proceed to recite their favorite T-shirt slogans, which include “Kill one, and it’s murder; kill thousands, and it’s foreign policy” and “God doesn’t take sides in war.”

Tasha, of course, is looking increasingly uncomfortable — make that flat-out pissed off — as the self-righteous banter continues. I’m with you, Tasha. I mean, I’d like this war to end as soon as possible, but I don’t think it can be fought with American Apparel and glibness.

Alice notices Tasha’s discomfort and says, “Oh, f—. I’m sorry.”

Kit and Angus finally take the stage. Angus’ voice is breathy and low; it’s of that super-sensitive ilk that goes with his beard and makes me gayer.

They sing, and the crowd cheers, and then all Porter-ific hell breaks loose:

Kit: You motherf—in’ liar! F— you, you lyin’, lowdown, nanny-f—in’ motherf—er! Who do you think I am, a motherf—in’ chump? F— you, motherf—er!

Come on, Kit! Wrap his guitar around his sensitive, lying neck! She does throw some water at him, and the blue streak continues as she leaves the stage.

I really don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Bette follows Angus to Kit’s office. Kit is already inside doing shots of Stoli. She doesn’t let Angus in, of course, but she listens when Bette’s voice floats through the door. She puts the vodka back in the drawer and lets Bette in, but it’s not as friendly as it seems:

Kit: F— you.

Bette: Excuse me? [sitting down next to Kit] Look at me.

Kit: You protected him. You protected him when you knew he was lying and cheating.

Bette: Kit, I wasn’t protecting him. I was protecting you. I didn’t want you to get hurt; that’s what I told him. I told him that he should break it off.

Kit: You told him?

Bette: I’m sorry.

Bette puts a hand on her chest, as if to guard herself against the shock and pain on Kit’s face. Kit leaves, slamming the door behind her. There is nothing quite as stirring as a Porter sisters scene.

Talk about harking back to Season 1: Bette, you can’t undo what you did with Candace, no matter how many ways you try to atone.

On her way out, Kit grabs an escort:

Kit: Papi, come on. Get me outta here. I am done with motherf—in’ men. Get me outta here.

Papi is only too happy to comply. I appreciate you, Pops, for appreciating the beauty of Kit.

Cleaning up — Catherine and Helena are cashing in and planning their trip to Majorca. Helena says she’s not going, so Catherine says, “If you make it worth my while …”

Helena: It’s more like if you make it worth my while.

Peggy would be so proud.

Finally — Tasha gives Alice a ride home on her bike. Alice wants to talk about the awkwardness at the Planet. Tasha’s not keen on the idea of discussing “all that s— you people are spouting on T-shirts, wearing slogans while other people are wearing armor.”

Tasha: You and I live in different worlds, Alice.

Alice: Yeah. I live in a world where people talk about things. Why don’t you take off your armor and just come upstairs?

So they go. Yes!

Dancing in the dark — Papi and Kit are at a Latin night club. Papi tells Kit she’s about to try the best mojito she’s ever had in her life. “You have no idea,” says Kit. She practically inhales the beverage, which startles Papi a little. I guess she hasn’t heard about the famous Kit Porter’s struggles with the bottle? Or maybe Kit just isn’t that famous.

Papi takes Kit out on the dance floor to show her “what it’s like to be treated like a lady.” I hope Kit doesn’t trip over your hat, Daddy-O.

I guess it could be considered hot as Papi slides her hands all over Kit’s body, but to me it just seems like pawing — mostly because I’m worried about the fact that Kit’s boozing it up again.

Now that’s hot — Tasha and Alice talk about the war a little more, or, rather, the “knee-jerk liberal bulls—” Jenny’s agents were spouting at the Planet, according to Tasha. Alice reminds Tasha that America is all about freedom of speech.

Alice launches into a speech, claiming the war is really about oil and Halliburton, but Tasha says the soldiers are just trying to do their best.

Tasha: And yeah, OK, I know some of it’s a mess, but I’m proud of the soldiers that I served with, and I’m so tired of people talkin’ s— without even knowin’ what it’s really like to be in it.

Well said. And Alice is chastened a little.”Well, then tell me what it’s like to be in it,” she says.

The dance floor — I can see that Kit’s having fun. I just wish she weren’t also seeing double.

Groan — Catherine and Helena are on a bed. There’s also a lot of money on the bed. Catherine offers up the worst line of the century: “Show me the money.”

Helena seems confused — as if Jerry Maguire weren’t a worldwide scourge — so Catherine repeats herself. Twice. And then she takes some of the money and slides it along Helena’s knee and up Helena’s thigh to, um, the money shot. Paper cut! Paper cut!

But no, Helena’s having a good time. See above re: tongues.

Politics as foreplay — Alice and Tasha are still talking about the war. Tasha says she and the soldiers she serves with don’t want to kill people.

Alice: Then why are you there?

Tasha: The question is why the f— am I here?

Alice: Because we wanna f— each other!

And so they do. Oh, do they. The skin! The moves! The sounds! Yeah.

The music in the background is the Staple Singers‘ “I’m Just Another Soldier.” That is beyond cool, and is also sorta dorky — just like these two.

At one point, Alice starts talking about the war again, which is not quirky or funny in the way that Alice usually is. It’s more sort of annoying. Tasha says it well: “Shut up and let me f— you.”

Thwarted — Papi takes Kit to her place. Papi’s place is shagadelic, of course: There are beads and the requisite remote-controlled sexy music. Just as they start to get busy, Kit’s hard life of hard drinking interferes. Kit says, “F— me so I forget” — and then snores, loud and long. So Papi lets her snooze.

The morning after — Alice caresses her way up Tasha’s sleeping body. But then she starts to talk about Dick Cheney, so Tasha shuts her up again.

Tasha: Your bush is the only bush I wanna think about.

Alice: [giggling] No. No, you didn’t say that. Oh, no.

OK, you two. I’m officially in love with you as a couple. You had me at “shut up.”

Wax — Shane and Paige are hosting a skate-fest for Shay and Jared and a gaggle of their classmates. They’re very momlike and kind of sweetly synchronized in the way they think and talk. That’s a sign that they’re doomed, right?

Another morning after — Kit wakes up with squinty eyes and, no doubt, a jackhammer for a head. She gets her jacket and tries to leave, but Papi points out that she’s a long way from home.

Kit: Did we … ?

Papi: Look, I could never take advantage of a lady in a compromised situation.

Kit: You mean I didn’t make the Chart?

Papi: The Chart?

Kit: You mean I didn’t even make the motherf—in’ Chart?

Oh, Kit. That is the rockiest bottom of all the rock bottoms in the world.

Blowing bubbles — Shane is chatting with her real estate agent about possible abodes. She can’t afford much. The realtor suggests that she move a little farther out to Silver Lake. She can have a terrace, a backyard, a happy life.

Is there a bridge in Silver Lake too? Maybe you could sell her that while you’re at it.

Breakfast — Alice is feeding Tasha bananas and clotted cream.

Alice: Don’t tell me you’re watchin’ your weight.

Tasha: Oh, please. That’s some white-girl s—.

Alice “accidentally” gets some cream on Tasha’s lip and has to lick her clean. These two really do know how to kiss.

Bursting the bubble — Shay asks whether he can go to a birthday party next weekend at Go Kart World. Shane loves to make this kid happy, so of course she says yes. Shay runs back out to the half pipe without a care in the world. Shane watches him go. But then she watches him as he stares at something. The kid is positively transfixed.

Shane goes out to see what’s so interesting and is soon transfixed herself: It’s Gabe, Shay’s dad. And Shane’s dad. And a whole lotta trouble.

NEXT TIME ON THE L WORD: Tina and Jenny don’t see eye to eye; Phyllis’ husband stops by to see Alice.

PLEASE NOTE: Beginning next week, new L Word recaps will be published late Monday nights, not Sunday nights, and the Talking to Manatees podcast will be posted on Wednesdays.

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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