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“The Real L Word” recap: Episode 202

This week, we open on Whitney and Sara, still in bed, still naked, and still going at it. They compare themselves to those other star-cross’d lovers, Romeo and Juliet, although I suspect Sara thinks a Capulet is something you take for a hangover.

Whitney says, “It’s like I’m sneaking out on one family to go yon window breaks to the other.”

I don’t remember Juliet wearing heels and a thong, do you?

After they find the motivation to get vertical and go outside, Whitney and Sara check out that other hotbed of lesbian activity: a dog park. Across an expanse of poop and soggy tennis balls, is Whitney’s ex and current houseguest, Rachel, who’s also out for her morning constitution. She spies the two of them and puts it together; they’ve been hooking up. This park suddenly has two bitches, too many.

Rachel leaves without confronting Whitney. Clearly, no one has explained how this show works to Rachel.

Meanwhile, Claire is busy creating her groundbreaking lesbian publication because, “a lot of people still think we’re these Birkenstock-wearing girls.” Who? Who are these people? Everyone knows Chely Wright, Amber Heard, Ellen and Portia all prefer Tevas.

Old stereotype or not, Claire is going to rid the known world of mandals, one fashion photo at a time, all from her laptop.

You’re welcome.

Back at the most popular Real L Word location, LAX, Sajdah is picking up a straight friend from college named Marissa. Sajdah says she wants Marissa’s trip to “not be completely gay.” Good luck with that.

Sajdah can’t wait to tell Marissa all about Chanel. She says she might be stalking her, but ya know, just a little bit. She also gives Marissa a lesbian tutorial.

Sajdah: I’m saying, lesbians fall in love in all of 30 minutes.

Marissa: Really?

Sajdah: ‘Cause you don’t have that nigga that’s being cool and pacing himself. And he got eight other bitches on the side… that doesn’t exist.

Is that supposed to be a good thing? What on earth is Marissa thinking behind her sunglasses? She sensibly tells Sajdah not to put all her eggs in one basket, just because Chanel has amazing eyelashes. Seriously. Keep them in your ovaries where they belong.

Elsewhere, Cori and Kacy are eating pizza and figuring out their next move because friend-o Brent doesn’t want to be their sperm donor anymore. Corcy are as obsessed with sperm as Ahab was obsessed with sperm whales, except in their case, any Dick will do. Call me Ishmael.

Kacy is still having trouble understanding why no one wants to accommodate them. It’s just sperm. You’re not using it. Why can’t she just have it? What is the big friggin’ deal?

Could it be that giving someone your seed is an important decision? I don’t even loan out my DVDs.

Later that night, Romi and Kelsey are out to dinner with Romi’s mom, Ann. It’s here we learn that Mrs. Romi divorced Mr. Romi when little Romi was 6-years-old, and a few years later, married a blurry-faced woman.

No need for anonymity. That suit jacket and v-neck are dead give-aways. I bet she’s wearing Birkenstocks.

Kelsey tells a story about her job. “I’m the cashier, so you have to be exactly on point,” she says, as if the stability of the World Bank depended on her. Recently, Kelsey was off by some nominal amount, and yet, they wrote her up for it, anyway. Bastards.

Ann points out to Romi, “But she’s dyslexic.” That explains everything. Real L Word? Kelsey thought she was signing up for The Real World.

Romi’s worried about money. She’s worried that Kelsey doesn’t have any. And she’s too young to know the pressures of rent, food and a weekly vodka allowance. “Half the things I throw at her, she doesn’t know what the f-ck I’m talking about,” she complains. Have you met her?

As mother and daughter talk, Kelsey stares off into the middle distance, thinking about unicorns.

Kelsey returns to Earth in time to defend herself by saying all she ever asked for was bus money. She also makes dinner, does all the house chores, and still can’t get laid. In a nutshell, she cooks, cleans, rides the bus and gets no benefits. Kelsey has turned into Romi’s housekeeper.

Over at Whitney’s house, Alyssa is giving her a whole lotta crap about hooking up with Sara, which of course, our Romeo denies. Whitney demands to know who’s been spreading such heinous lies and stammers she has no idea what Alyssa is talking about.

Whitney: Who told you that?

Alyssa: I’m not telling you.

Whitney: Who the f-ck told you that?

Alyssa: I’m not telling you.

Whitney: Tell me the first letter of their name.

“C?” As in “camera operator?”

Alyssa reminds Whitney that she hasn’t always been Team Sara, and once said, “F-ck Sara and her fake tits.” Alyssa is super ballsy this season and I love it. Must be her new, glamorous 40s movie star hair.

Rachel doesn’t feel very welcome or important, considering she flew all this way to see Whitney and hasn’t spent any sexy time with her. “It’s a slap in the face” she laments, “It’s a slap in the vag.”

Not to be left out on the exhibitionist fun, Rachel retreats to her room, turns on her computer and finds her favorite porn; girls giving blowjobs. As she navigates her way around xtube, Rachel explains, “I’m totally gay, gold star, but for some reason, chicks sucking d–k? Got it. ‘Cause they look like they’re whores.”

If that’s what gets her off, she should just go back and watch last week’s episode.

Alone in the dark with nothing but her vibe, her laptop, a camera crew and her thoughts, Rachel takes matters into her own hands.

And I thought Whitney was the master baiter.

Over at Francine’s sparse crib, she and Claire are making dinner and processing. Claire declares, “I dated her from 19 to 23, and now I’m 26. So, it’s like I’ve grown up since then.” Imagine that. All of twenty-six. Who’s a big girl? You are!

Francine isn’t sure if Claire has grown up, nor changed, nor what to do with her now. Francine raises a new, more interesting question: How is she going to tell her traditional Japanese mother that she’s gay? Still clueless, Francine’s mom keeps asking, “How are you going to have a baby if you keep hanging around with girls?”

As soon as Kacy and Cory figure out that conundrum, they’ll let you know.

In another part of town, Sajdah has dragged Marissa with her to pick up Chanel and her eyebrows, so they can all march in the Martin Luther King Day Parade. Forming the gay contingency, they hoist their handmade signs, and skip down the street, holding hands.

Of course, there’s that one hater, standing on the sidelines with his big Jesus sign, turning his thumb down at them as they pass. Who are those people? And why are they never good-looking?

What exactly is he against? Civil rights? Gay rights? Parades? Some people just can’t stand it when other people are happy.

While Whitney is somewhere tying Sara up with her dreads, Rachel takes the opportunity to talk to Alyssa in private. She has a secret: Sara has using her to get a job in New York. And Sara’s ex, Hana, has been getting messages from Sara, saying she wants to get back together. Rachel tells Alyssa she has the texts to prove it.

When Whitney comes home, both Alyssa and Rachel confront her with Sara’s shadiness, but Whitney doesn’t want to believe it. Rachel shows Whitney the texts. Finally thinking with her big head, and not her little one, Whitney decides she going to let Sara have it, and not in the good way anymore.

After the parade, Sajdah hopes the day proved something about her character to Chanel. I guess it worked because Chanel gives Sajdah a kiss — their first — and laughs that delightful way femmes do. This sends Sajdah into orbit. Chanel’s all that and a bag of Skittles.

Hide your testicles, here comes Corcy. Cory and Kacy meet two guy friends for dinner and lay their cards on the table: Give us your sperm, please. After an awkward silence, the guys say, “No.”

The guys gently remind the girls that since they’re friends, it would be weird and difficult to father their baby and then do nothing except pretend the kid doesn’t look like one of them. Cory and Kacy can’t believe their ears. The concept of not wanting to give away something so personal, even if you’re not using it, is totally lost on them.

Kacy counters, “I guess the difference is, if either one of you needed an egg, I would have no issue.” The guys look at her, thinking, “That is never going to happen.”

I know someone who gave an egg to a gay couple, which was weird considering she wouldn’t lend her softball mitt to anyone. Later, she sued for visitation. Later still, she was injured and never played softball again. The moral of the story? Keep your genes in your jeans and don’t slide into third.

Romi comes home from a long, busy day in retail and asks to be fed. Thankfully, Kelsey is waiting by the door with a skillet full of cheese. Romi says she’s worried about money because Kelsey doesn’t make any, and anxious about her own future because she’s not using her professional makeup skills as god intended.

A world without smoky eyes is a world without sunshine.

Life’s problems aren’t going to be solved tonight, so Romi decides they should do the next best thing: drink. She gives Kelsey some money. Be a good little monkey and fetch us a bottle of vodka. Kelsey obediently heads to the liquor store as Romi changes into her trendy clubbing tights. They’re going to get that all-important pre-buzz before venturing out to the West Hollywood girl party called “Haute.”

In a reserved cabana, Whitney meets Claire for the first time and discovers they have mutual friends that are not Ilene Chaiken. Kelsey smokes cigarettes and watches Romi chat up Rachel. Francine is happy that Claire is being attentive and nice, and not working on her website. Everyone is having a drink and happily hanging out until —

Whitney finds Sara and tells her she knows all about the texts to Hana. Sara asks defensively, “What are you mad about?” Whitney uncharacteristically loses her cool. She demands to know if Sara has talked to Hana.

Sara: I haven’t talked to Hana in a really long time.

Whitney: Really? When was the last time you talked to Hana?

Sara: Today.

Hilarious. And PS, that was like, hours ago, so there. Girl logic. Go figure.

Whitney is pissed. She hasn’t been this pissed since she someone ran up to her and gushed, “I loved you in Predator!”

Whitney waves her cigarette around, and screams, “You lied!” as if that’s never happened before. Claire and Francine watch from a few feet away, craning to hear every word. Who doesn’t love other people’s drama? It’s like theater in the round.

While Sara starts to wonder what leaving the show will mean to her fantastic hair styling “career,” trouble is brewing with our other Haute mess, Romi and Kelsey. They’re both completely hammered. Romi has just leaned over Kelsey to make out with Rachel. Get ready. Kelsey is about to have an emotion.

She comes out of her coma, grabs Romi’s tiny head with both hands and slurs, “Do you want a threesome?” Wait. Is this one of those loaded questions like “Do these jeans make my ass look fat?”

A friend intervenes and reminds Kelsey this is not new Romi behavior. This is who your girlfriend is. Don’t act surprised, and don’t bother getting mad. Sara interrupts them and tells Kelsey she has to take Romi home now because “she’s wasted.” Kelsey’s sh-t-faced too, but she dutifully staggers over to Romi and drags her out.

Kelsey decides that now would be a good time to tell her something, even though Romi can’t even stand up anymore, and they’re both totally incoherent.

Kelsey: Honestly? We’re. Tomorrow. We’re everything our relationship.

Romi: Oh yeah?

Kelsey: Yeah, we are.

Romi: Oh, tomorrow we think everything.

Kelsey: Yeah. When your f-cking sobe… Yeah.

Romi: Oh.

Kelsey: You’re just f-cking made out with her.

Romi: I was not making out with her. I was drunk and wasted. I’m not…

Romi stops mid-sentence. She suddenly remembers she wants to be across the street for no reason. Kelsey chases after her. They agree they need to get a cab. As they stumble past that other Mecca of gay drama, The Abbey, and disappear off into the night, Romi slurs, “You always want to make everything so bad.”

Thanks for visiting Haute. See you next week.

Classy as all get out, Claire sniffs she was raised better than these girls. She would never be drunk and having public, screaming fights in bars. Claire prefers in-home douchery and Skypes “I love you, I miss you” with Vivian, as Francine is forced to listen from the kitchen.

Oh, honey. No. Don’t mess with the Gaysians.

The morning after, Romi claims she doesn’t remember making out with Rachel. She tells Kelsey, “I don’t like Rachel that way!” as if its randomness somehow makes it excusable. Ya know, s-t happens. What can you do except apologize, move on, and hope no one put anything on Facebook?

Romi removes two pounds of makeup from her face, and starts to rethink her entertainment choices. Listen, not every LA lesbian spends the morning trying to remember the night before. Some of us are home, shopping for sperm.

Cori and Kacy have given up trying to find a loving teaspoon among their friends and are now perusing the internet. Cori learns these places ask questions she hadn’t thought of. Questions like medical history, education, family background. All Cori cared about until now was, “How long do you need and would you like a magazine?”

After searching the profiles of many educated, athletic, men, they find Mr. Right. He’s tall, good-looking, and Italian, like Kacy. He’s also a copywriter, and as we know, writers are highly intelligent. We have a winner.

Later that day, Romi’s mom, Ann, comes over for lunch. Romi gives Ann the blow-by-blow of last night’s shenanigans. Ann reminds Romi that alcohol doesn’t mix well with her being bi-polar. Whoa.

In this stunning revelation, Ann reveals that Romi has always been bi-polar, but it really came out when she was 14, and had to be hospitalized. Romi keeps grazing on her salad, as if they’re talking about the weather.

Bi-polar bear says AA is not her style, and it’s “unrealistic” to think she’s going to stop clubbing. Dragging Kelsey down with her, Romi says she has a drinking problem, too. Kelsey denies it, natch.

Ann offers Kelsey her two cents: “I think you do. Because I love you, I’ll tell you that. Cause I’ve seen how much you can drink, too.”

Oh Ann, if it wasn’t for self-medication, we would have nothing to do on Friday nights.

In Whitney’s backyard, she and Rachel enjoy a quite evening, processing the human condition. They conclude Rachel is in a good place, Whitney is ready to stop the insanity, and Sara is a lying turdball. Also, cigarettes are delicious.

In a different backyard, Francine is also smoking, and hugging herself. She tells Claire, “I don’t need to wait around for an a-hole like you that makes me feel like sh-t about myself all the time.” Not when there are hundreds of other LA lesbians who can do the same thing, better and cheaper.

Claire starts to cry, because she doesn’t know what she feels anymore. Is Vivian The One? Will she ever get over Francine? Are Birkenstocks going to make a comeback and ruin everything? Being a grown up is so hard!

Whitney may or may not ever find a way to be happy with Sara. In the meantime, she has her friends, her devilish grin, and a side job, piloting this Showtime prop plane, which has been circling my house for three days. 

Damn you, Red Baron!

Next week: Whitney eats Rachel’s patience for breakfast, Sara is drinking straight from the bottle, and Kelsey finally gets laid in the most graphic porn scene yet.

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