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The L Word recap (3.2): “Lost Weekend”

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

  • Easy: Men. Unless you’re genderqueer.
  • Progesterone: Good if you’re crazy; useless if you’re a bigot.
  • The ultimate patriot act: What Tina doesn’t like.

THIS WEEK’S GUEST-BIANS: Alan Cumming fascinates and repulses; Cynthia Stevenson phones it in; Anne-Marie MacDonald’s huge talent is wasted; Lauren Lee Smith wonders why she’s bothered to hang around; Irene Lopez continues to coddle Chane.

So I should confess that I left something out last week: in the weirdness of the student-filmish prologue, the women who were making out at the encounter group were named Teri and Marilyn. We know this because their names appeared on the screen, and a line was drawn (no doubt by the poltergeist) between their names. I didn’t say anything about it because it made no sense to me, and also kind of ruined the moment. But it’s going to make sense in the next couple of paragraphs, so do pay attention. I didn’t, and look what’s happened: I’ve wasted far too much time explaining myself.

The Castro, 1979 – For a moment I think Queer as Folk has been resurrected, and I rejoice – but Brian Kinney is nowhere to be seen. But he’d be proud of these men, who are fucking in every position imaginable and wondering why an androgynous woman has just stumbled into the scene. “I’m looking for sex,” she explains, and when one of the happy gay boys suggests she try the Safeway that’s crawling with “straight hot men,” she explains that she’s looking for girls. So they send her around the corner, and apparently she takes the poltergeist with her, because we hear “I’m looking for sex” and “I’m looking for girls,” just in case we missed them the first time.

Anyway, Teri (the one who’s being haunted by the poltergeist and who – surprise! – was having an intimate encounter the last time we saw her) finds someone around the corner: someone named Toni who’s looking for sex and girls too and is mercifully free of poltergeists or husbands. It’s almost good, until they speak:

Toni: “Fuck me so I forget who I am.”

Teri: “It’s too late to stop me.”

No, it’s not the words, so much: it’s the way they’re spoken, which is with about as much nuance and subtlety as you get from the cross dangling from Toni’s neck as she says “Oh Jesus.”

The road – Moira and Jenny are counting roadkill. I haven’t played this game, but apparently the first person to get to 21 wins. Can it be any kind of roadkill? Bugs on the windshield? Brain cells as you stare out at the endless highway or a senseless TV show?

Jenny says that as the winner, she must be given a prize, so Moira tells her to open the glove. Box. Glove box. Or glove compartment or glove locker. Whatever you like, but it’s not just “glove.”

The glove (smell it) contains a taser gun, which Moira keeps “just in case” someone gives her shit. Jenny’s not excited about it, and is possibly also not excited about the fact that Moira’s lines are all delivered with the sort of inflection one usually lends to statements like “I’ll have a Diet Coke.”

But the gun is not Jenny’s present: Moira tells her to open the box that’s in the glove (box). Inside is some coke – not the diet kind – and a razor blade, the latter of which is more fascinating to Jenny. The music gets all squeee and eeeek and pppinnngg just to make sure we get the idea.

Let’s pause for the writer credit: AM Homes. The AM stands for Adored and Madly-skilled.

The Planet – Kit is having trouble pronouncing “croupier,” but Billie Blaikie (Alan Cumming) is there to handle everything, including Carmen the “cute” DJ and Absolut the ever-present sponsor.

Billie: “And frankly, I’m much more qualified to run this place than you are. Joking. But I guarantee that after tonight, you’re gonna want me to run this joint.”

Kit: “Mm hmm. We’ll see, Mr. Mary P.”

I want you to know that when I first typed “run this joint,” it came out “runt his joint,” and somehow I doubt Mr. Cumming would disapprove.

The Gay & Lesbian Center – Alice is at a group therapy session, or meeting or whatever, for obsessive types. She’s talking about Lisa the lesbian man, but only as a way to explain why she’s so obsessed with Dana. It seems that to Alice, men are “easy” and not dangerous. But now, unfortunately, she’s at the obsessive love phase, and so am I, because Alice is way cute in her glasses.

Alice mentions that this week is her birthday, and thus it would be great if Dana would come by with a little present or “maybe kiss my eyelids.” Oh, Alice. I would do that for you, but it would require taking those glasses off, and I simply couldn’t.

Alice continues to share:

Alice: “I think you guys would be obsessed too, because our sex was mindblowingly unfuckingly unbelievable. And it just kind of, you know, it makes you realize that this person could be the one great true love of your life. You know? But she’ll be back. She will be back. Because our love was too intense. That’s all.”

It doesn’t sound funny when it’s typed out like that, but Leisha is doing this shifty-eyed thing and guzzling Diet Coke, which adds up to hilarity. And I swear I didn’t mean to establish a Diet Coke theme in this recap.

After all the sipping and sharing, Alice goes out to a waiting car – Helena’s car. Helena is on the phone with her son; they’re talking about the ballet. “I wish I was coming,” says Helena. Well, I don’t know: why don’t you arrange yourself on the hood of whatever fancy car that is, and see whether Alice will help you out with that?

But Alice is a little too busy burping, which would be funny enough, and is even better when she explains “Sorry, I’m such a gross bisexual love addict right now.”

Helena has brought her a surprise, whose name is Janice – and at first Alice thinks Janice is a hooker, but she’s really from a cleaning service called Lez Clean Up. And she’s also a big fan of The Chart, so when Alice hugs Helena to thank her, Janice joins right in.

Wait a minute: how am I suppose to cope with the fact that Helena is being nice and supportive and… human? She’s like Spike with a chip in his head: it just seems wrong, and possibly lethal.

Running on empty – On the road, Jenny takes polaroids of Moira, tells her she’s “so fucking beautiful,” and then proceeds to go down on her.

Moira: “My girlfriend used to give me head when we drove to school.”

Jenny: “Hey, lady… I’m not your ex. And I’m not your girlfriend. Got it?”

Moira doesn’t care, and who would? Heading down the highway with someone’s head in your lap is a fantastic experience. Unfortunately, Jenny and Moira have run out of gas, and I don’t mean that metaphorically. But Moira tells Jenny to keep going: “don’t blue-ball me.” Um.

Cleaning up – Janice the lesbian cleaning lady wants to know what to do with Dana. As in Dana the cardboard standie, and Dana the shrine.

Janice: “Alice, what do you want me to do with this Dana thing?”

Helena: “Alice is in the loo. What Dana thing?”

And then Helena sees the shrine, and is of course stunned. She hollers for Alice. Alice saunters out with a spliff and says “What the fuck, Helena?” in a way that just makes me adore her more.

Alice insists that the shrine is no biggie, but Helena says it’s bordering on psychotic and serial killer. Come on. How many serial killers wear such cute glasses?

Janice gets a box so she can dismantle the shrine, but Alice says “not that box.” And why not? Because that box contains a pink bondage hood, which Alice promptly puts on. It’s really more than I can describe, especially when Helena puts the flap over Alice’s mouth and tells her to just listen. Damn you, Helena: how dare you make me like you like this! But I suppose I was a fool to think I could resist the accent forever.

The Planet – Alice dumps a box of toys onto the table where Dana and Lara are sitting and minding their own business.

Alice: “I didn’t have a chance to wash everything, so.”

And Alice walks away. Dana can only say “great” as she and Lara scoop toys off the table.

And that? Was the perfect scene and the perfect line.

By the side of the road – Jenny has to pee. So does Moira. The difference? Moira does it standing up. I tried that once, but not the way she’s doing it – I was on a train in Peru (where everything’s a bit uncertain, to say the least) and I tried this thing called a Whizzy, which is really just sort of a corner of a manila folder and didn’t work at all. But Moira clearly knows the trick, and Jenny’s impressed.

Moira explains that she’s always done that, even when she was little. “When my dad caught me, he popped me one.”

Speaking of dads and moms, an RV pulls up, and the average American couple get out and offer some help, calling Moira a “fella” and a “husband.”

The Planet – Shane and Carmen smooch.

Bette: “At least someone’s gettin’ a little somethin’-somethin’.”

That. Is. So. Wrong. And I can’t quite see Tina’s reaction well enough to comment on it.

Carmen and Shane talk about the quinceañera. It’s going to keep them from attending Angelica’s half-birthday celebration. As they talk about it (Bette: “So it’s kind of like a bat mitzvah.” Carmen: “With tamales.”), Alice and Helena approach, and Alice thinks they must all be planning a surprise birthday party for her. So she asks what they’re talking about, and graciously accepts the invite to what she thinks is a fake six-month-old birthday party. She also says she’d like to bring Helena.

Carmen: “Well, they are good friends.”

Shane: “Yeah, they’re always hanging out.”

Okay, first, “they” are right behind you, so stop being so rude, and second, it doesn’t matter how many times you state these things: it doesn’t make them true. Even if the poltergeist proclaims them ad nauseam, we’re not really going to believe them if we haven’t seen the merest hint of a glimmer of their existence. All of the relationships on this show have suddenly become urban legends, and most of us have Snopes bookmarked.

I take it back: the Bette/Helena hatred is legendary in a different way. Bette tells Helena that if she doesn’t have anything else to do, it would be fine if she comes to the party. And then Bette proceeds to walk away in the middle of Helena’s reply. Heh.

The middle of nowhere – Moira is in the ladies’ room, where a lady wonders what a “boy” is doing there. “I’m a girl,” says Moira, as she struts out. The music gets all Pulp Fiction-y as the more ladylike girl tells her redneck friends about the “freak” that was just in the girls’ bathroom. The kids (because the rednecks aren’t rednecks so much as they’re kids, really) give Moira some shit, and then one of them (Johnny, how quaint) pulls her out of the truck and says some scary things about how real men fuck. Jenny marches calmly out of the pickup, taser gun in hand, and tells Johnny to let Moira go. So he does, and tells Jenny to call him when she wants a real man. Jenny says “Sure, dude, no problem,” and then zaps him, and I’m sure I shouldn’t enjoy the sight of him writhing on the ground.

Jenny: “Hey. We’re not faggots, we’re dykes, you asshole.”

Right on.

Jenny is very quiet in the truck afterwards. Moira and her cheekbones and chin can only look over at Jenny and worry.

The Planet – Billie Blaikie is the emcee for “Vulva Las Vegas.” In case you didn’t know, Alan Cumming was born to be in Cabaret, and it seems he hasn’t quite left the role behind. But he was kinda sexy in that show – here he’s more silly than sinister. That’s true even when he holds up some condoms and says he’s on his way to a Little League game. But Bette doesn’t find it silly at all: she give him the “say that again” eyebrows-and-rapid-blink as Kit and Dana and Lara laugh. Actually, now that I’ve see that look of hers, I’m inclined to apologize for Billie and myself and everyone else who’s ever failed or ever will fail Ms. Porter in any way.

La Jalouse – Moira and Jenny go to a “small-town gay bar.” Excuse me, but as a survivor of a small town, I can assure you that that is an oxymoron.

The Planet – At the roulette wheel, Shane tells Bette to try 32 red. Bette resists at first, but Helena says “Bet the lot, Bette” (no, I don’t find that cute, not at all) and everyone else encourages Bette too, so she puts her chips down. Actually, Shane’s chips. As the wheel spins, Bette looks over to where Billie Blaikie is making a show of enjoying himself with two pretty young things, one male, one female. And as she’s staring at him, the wheel lands on 32 red.

If this were an AM Homes book, I would re-read this scene several times and marvel at its layers, because Homes would know just how to state it simply without giving anything away. But on the screen it seems a bit heavy. Luckily, we are soon distracted by Alice tossing some dental dams at Dana and Lara and telling them to keep it safe. Dana’s “thanks” sounds genuinely sad.

The mythical small town gay bar – Hear that music? That’s the utterly brilliant Neko Case singing “Porchlight.” Please play “I Wish I Was the Moon” at my funeral. Thank you. And if you don’t have Blacklisted, buy it now.

The waitress brings tequila shots to Jenny and Moira’s table and says she thinks she knows who’ll be taking who(m) home tonight. “What does that mean?” whispers Jenny. Oh, I think you know, Miss Schechter.

Moira wanders off and notices someone’s giving her the eye, so she asks the looker to dance. Jenny orders two more tequilas and downs them both as she watches Moira do her thing. And then Jenny cuts in, and it puzzles Moira, and they leave in a whirr of Jenny-ish confusion and coquettishness.

The Planet – Bette and Kit discuss Billie; specifically, his Little League comment (the former disapproves; the latter thinks he was just playin’). The odd thing about all of it is that Kit doesn’t look good in her tuxedo-ish getup, and I would have expected quite the opposite.

A cabaret act takes the stage: an Elvis and an Ann Margaret. The Elvis is cool – and almost sounds like Michelle Shocked, who would make a great guestbian. The Ann Margaret sounds more like a Liza Minnelli. Please don’t muddle the washed-up camp stars in your mind.

David shows up and says the whole thing looks like a nightmare and that there are too many freaks at this once-respectable establishment.

Billie: “You know what? For a minute I was seriously considering shagging you, Mr. Izod. But you’re not a very nice fellow, are you?

Kit announces that Billie is her new manager, and of course David doesn’t like the idea.

Kit: “Let me tell you something. It gives me great joy to see these people in here laughing, and partying and living the life they love and loving the life they live.”

Cabaret! Chicago! So many musicals, so many references, so little joy.

Bette wants Kit to be nice because she needs David to help her out with the adoption thing. Kit says he’s such an arrogant little prick. As Margaret Cho would say, what a cool mommy!

A small-town motel – Moira gives voice to our innermost thoughts:

Moira: [to Jenny] “Are you gonna tell me what you want? Or are you just gonna sit there, acting all weird and silent?”

Wait, I know this one! Pick me, pick me!

Jenny knows she was acting jealous, and says it was fucked up. And then she tells Moira to stand against the wall and unbutton her shirt. And Moira does, but when Jenny wants to fuck her – “You never let me fuck you” – Moira says no. So okay, the heading down the highway was okay, but not the fucking? The camera must be wondering too, because it’s zooming in on Moira’s crotch as if to say “what’s going on here?” But I don’t really care, and neither should the camera: Moira can do what she wants, and what she wants right now is to hug Jenny, which is really pretty sweet.

Perhaps now is a good time to insert a disclaimer: although I think I can claim some knowledge of the wonderful world of gender and sexuality and all of the planes and intersections thereof, I’m not going to pretend I know how Moira feels about anything. But on the other hand, I don’t really pretend to know how any of these characters feel about anything. So, as usual, if I say something stupid, do let me know. (As if I needed to ask.)

Sleepless – Bette is worried. No, she’s downright scared: about not being able to adopt Angelica, about not finding a job that she really loves, about losing the house, about not having control over anything. The lighting and the giant polka dots on the pillowcase and Bette’s furrowed brow all add up to something kind of film noir-ish… a lost weekend, perhaps? But it’s more like Barbara Stanwyck in Sorry, Wrong Number, or perhaps I’m muddling the washed-up camp stars in my mind.

Of course Tina is asleep as Bette bares her soul, and the whole thing is another classic AM Homes moment, just uncomfortable enough to be great.

Oh, and Angelica has been inhaling Tina’s arm this entire time. Far be it from me to take a stand on the whole sleeping-with-your-baby thing, but it’s a good thing that’s a fake baby (look! it never moves!) because I doubt the bicep-over-nostrils method is a safe one.

Standing up – Kit calls Angelica “little Foxy Brown.” Now that’s cute. Not to mention a very enjoyable film.

David says Kit’s not listening to anything he says.

Kit: “Oh, I heard you. I’m supposed to take progesterone to help me with the crazies. But what are you gonna take to help you with your bigotry?”

Oh Kit, how I adore thee. David’s still not sure why he’s there. Bette starts to explain, but just as she’s about to get to the point, the social worker arrives.

And of course David says he can’t play along, because he doesn’t believe in gay adoption, because he hasn’t figured out what to take to cure his bigotry. David, you have cool hair, but that is the only nice thing I’m ever going to say about you.

Somewhere with a big wall – Bette’s putting some art on the wall: it’s called The Ultimate Patriot Act, and it says “Eating pussy is the ultimate patriot act.” I’m not sure why, but I don’t really disagree. The piece is by a Guerrilla Girl.

And the woman to whom Bette is presenting the piece, Julia, is played by Ann-Marie MacDonald, star of Interviews with My Next Girlfriend and Better Then Chocolate. But she doesn’t get to show us her fab comedic timing in this scene, and that’s a shame.

Julia likes the Guerrilla Girl piece, but Bette is fixated on the fact that Tina doesn’t like it, because she wants her partner to support her.

Julia: “What, unconditionally?”

Bette: “Well, I don’t know. I mean, why shouldn’t I expect the person that I’m closest to in the world to try to see things from my point of view, instead of challenging me and questioning my convictions all the time?”

Well, questioning your convictions, no, but challenging you? That’s better than supportive: it’s zingy fun stuff. It’s, you know, growth and sanity and not just Bette-is-the-center-of-the-world stuff.

Julia suggests therapy, but of course Bette and Tina have tried that more than once. So Julia suggests Mark Epstein, who’s giving a talk about his new book, Open to Desire.

I’m open to desire where both of these women are concerned, and it’s not really helping me one bit.

Shane & Jenny’s house – Carmen is telling Shane to come out. Bet you never thought you’d hear that. But of course she’s saying it because Shane is wearing that white dress from last week, and when she does come out in it, she’s wearing Converse and a pouty face, and the total effect is positively adorable. Yeah, I said it. Don’t make me say it again.

Shane: “I feel like a piñata.”

Carmen: “You’re too small to be a piñata, but how ’bout the top of a tranny wedding cake?”

Shane: “You’re not helping me.”

So Carmen kisses her, and says “Quiero lamer te hasta que te vengas en mi boca mil veces,” which apparently means “I’m gonna lick you until you come in my mouth a thousand times.” And I don’t know if the Spanish is correct, but the scene almost gets hot, until Carmen discovers that Shane is wearing men’s briefs under her dress, which suddenly makes Carmen want to get Shane some cha-cha heels. What?

The birthday party – Alice and Helena arrive at what they think is Alice’s surprise party, but of course there are kids everywhere. As Alice sulks, Helena does another surprisingly wonderfully human thing: she finds Bette and Tina in the kitchen and tells them all about Alice’s “misapprehension.” Luckily, there’s still room on the cake to add “and Alice” to “Happy Birthday Angelica.” And it’s just enough to make Alice smile. Aww. Angelica plonks her hand right into the pink frosting – somebody give that kid some cake!

The quinceañera – In the primping room, everyone’s talking about their quinceañeras, so Shane asks about Carmen’s. Carmen’s mom says Carmen was the nuns’ favorite, and Shane makes a face that says “gee, I wonder why.”

Then it’s Chane’s turn to get her hair done. And what do you do with that fraggly mess? You put a wig on it.

It’s really kind of amazing: Shane looks a little like… hmm, Angelina Jolie, almost? I don’t really know what to say, because Shane/Chane is suddenly making me feel the way James Garner felt in Victor/Victoria, but at least Chane’s not likely to start singing.

A guy named Luis dances with Chane and confesses his love for Carmen. Chane tries to explain that sometimes feelings are not exactly returned. Poor Luis. Carmen shows up to “cut in,” and of course Luis thinks she wants to dance with him, but she’s there to dance with Chane, because “in the Latino culture, it’s okay if two girls dance with each other.”

Carmen: “I love your hair.”

Chane: “You owe me.”

Carmen: “I know. Thank you.”

Chane: “You’re welcome.”

The cleanup – Angus (the guitar-playing guy) is saying his goodbyes, when Bette and Tina decide to ask him to be their manny. And of course he accepts, and is honored. Alice interrupts to say she had a great time and didn’t think of Dana for 47 minutes.

Speaking of Dana – Dana and Lara are taking a bath, but again I’m feeling nothing. Zip. They should at least have a Rub My Ducky to help me along. Lara asks Dana whether she kept the doctor’s appointment – you know, about the minor matter of the lump in her breast – and of course she didn’t. Dana says she’d prefer a female doctor, so she’ll ask Bette and Tina about theirs. Oh, right: what sort of athlete wouldn’t have her own doctor by now? More importantly, where the hell did the chemistry between these two go?

Another bar on the road – Jenny and Moira go to a bear night and have a grand time. Which highway are they on, exactly? The yellow brick road?

More sexus interruptus – Shane (now back in her usual garb) and Carmen enjoy their roles: Carmen does a striptease that almost works for me, but not quite, while Shane smokes and stares. And then something really really does work for me: Carmen’s ass. Do you see that?? Yow.

And then the phone rings: it’s Jenny, calling to say she’ll be there in a couple of days and that Moira may or may not be her girlfriend. This has been a muppet news flash.

The problem of desire – Bette is at the buddhism-meets-psychotherapy thing. Mr. Epstein is talking about art, and how if you pull it too close, it becomes pornography, and if you distance yourself, it becomes criticism. As Bette listens, we also see Tina, who’s at home on the computer, chatting with someone called DaddyOf2. He says he knows Tina wants his cock inside her, and eventually Tina says yes, she wants him to fuck her.

Okay, my disclaimer doesn’t apply to this: here’s a time when I won’t have to pretend I know how someone feels. I have a rather clear idea of how much this is gonna sting when Bette finds out. Fasten your seatbelts, friends: it’s gonna be a bumpy season. Oops, this is supposed to be The Lost Weekend, not All About Eve. Speaking of The Lost Weekend, isn’t there a vicious circle motif in that movie? Not that that would be in any way applicable to this show. No, not at all.

NEXT WEEK ON THE L WORD: Bette and Tina talk about money; Helena offers Tina a job; Kit meets the manny; Moira moves in; Dana gets a mammogram.

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