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The L Word Recaps: Episode 4.5 “Lez Girls”

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

The animal kingdom: The latest canvas for Jenny’s tortured art.

Cobb salad: A misty bacon-flavored memory of the way they were.

THIS WEEK’S GUEST-BIANS: Kristanna Loken wants to play; Marlee Matlin gets smoke in Bette’s eyes; Heather Matarazzo boogies; Cybill Shepherd goes off the deep end.

Guess I won’t do a screen shot of this scene – Max is standing in front of a mirror. He takes off his pants, revealing quite a bulge in his briefs, and then takes out the packer that’s causing that bulge. He continues to undress until he’s naked in front of the mirror, and it’s startling – not the nudity but the incongruity of his face and body.

I think maybe this is the key to making Max a sympathetic character: Fewer lines. There’s some considerable drama going on in that face when there’s no dialogue to worry about.

Nannygate – I presume we’re at Henry’s house or Tina’s house or some combination of the two. Hazel is answering the door. Angstus is at the door. I feel sorry for the door: No matter which way it turns, ugliness abounds – with the unbelievably cute exception of Angelica.

Angus is dropping Angelica off, and Hazel wants to know how Angus’ day was – and how she can make it better. I really don’t know how to recap this stuff. Maybe I didn’t read enough Harlequin novels in my youth. Or Harlot/Mannequin.

California University – Tom is chatting up a student. (A male student.) My, but this campus is rife with inappropriate romances. But never mind: If Tom is hanging around, there’s a good chance Jodi’s nearby, and if Jodi’s around … yep, here comes Bette, right on cue.

Bette comments on Tom’s flirtations. Jodi seizes the opportunity to make a few comments of her own:

Jodi: What about you? Are you still sleeping with Nadia?

Bette: Excuse me?

Jodi: [signing something that looks pretty lewd]

Tom: [jogging up] She said are you still f—ing Nadia?

Bette: Thank you, I got the gist of it. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Jodi: Just a friendly question out of curiosity. Maybe a little concern. I mean, Nadia’s not a poker face, you know.

Bette: Well, don’t believe everything you hear.

Jodi: Well, I see a lot more than I hear.

Bette: I’m sorry. I didn’t … [sighing] … I fell into that one.

Jodi: I made a few mistakes when I taught at Columbia. But, you know, following the rules is not always my thing.

Tom: [interrupting] Um, excuse me? Brittany girl was a big, big mistake.

Bette: Brittany. I see.

Jodi: She was a Columbia graduate student, and I made a mistake with her.

Bette: [innocently] Mmm hmmm.

Jodi: She turned her senior thesis into a life-size sculpture of me – naked. It was pretty good. But she should have made my breasts bigger.

Bette laughs sort of condescendingly and tries to keep her gaze higher than Jodi’s hands (which are on Jodi’s breasts). Bette goes into professional mode and says she’s glad there were no serious repercussions from the little dalliance. Did you hear the way she said reh-percussions, not ree-percussions? Swoon.

Bette also says she’ll try to be more careful herself, but Jodi tells her, “Don’t be too careful. That’s dreary.”

This is worse than when Mr. P died – Jenny (as Debbie) is at the vet’s office. Sounder is in kidney failure and is in a lot of pain, so the vet (Stacey Merkin’s girlfriend Lindsey) is putting the dog to sleep. Right here in front of me. On my TV. I can’t watch.

I get that the dog was going to die anyway, but I can’t believe Jenny is essentially participating in euthanasia just so she can get revenge on a reviewer. And just when I was starting to like her.

I’m not quite sure whether Jenny gets the gravity of the moment:

Lindsey: You gave her a wonderful life, Debbie.

Jenny: No, I didn’t.

Lindsey: Yes, you did.

Jenny: No, I didn’t.

Lindsey: Hey, listen, uh, why don’t you let me take you out to dinner. We’ll celebrate Sounder and we’ll have a drink in her honor, huh?

Jenny: [shaking her head] OK.

That’s right, Jenny. Celebrate Sounder. Celebrate the egomania that has driven you to kill a dog in the service of your so-called art.

I suppose Sounder might represent innocence or trust or weakness or whatever else Jenny has traded in for crazy, but you know what she also represents? A dog. Dying. On my TV.

Sounder, you’re lucky you can’t see this — Angstus is giving Hazel a guitar lesson. If you know what I mean. Unfortunately, that really is what I mean: One minute he’s showing her how to keep her wrist loose, and the next minute she’s showing him how she keeps her morals loose.

I’m probably protecting you too much. So here’s a snippet of dialogue to convey just how horrific this is:

Angus: [demonstrating how to strum the guitar] You wanna keep this up-and-down movement goin’ no matter what.

Hazel: I don’t usually have a problem keeping my up-and-down movement.

Hey, Angus, have you ever noticed what happens if you take the G out of your name? Also, have you ever noticed what happens if you don’t take your dick out of your pants when you’re not in the presence of your girlfriend or a urinal? You might find it makes for a pleasant life.

I guess these two could be considered a parody of straight soap opera couples or something. But aren’t parodies supposed to make you laugh rather than vomit?

The Planet — Shane is listening to Kit’s new record. She’s got the big headphones on, and she’s groovin’ to the beats. She tells Kit it’s good.

Kit: Really?

Shane: Mmm hmmm.

Kit: I haven’t played it for Angus yet. He’s been so down on himself lately.

Oh, no, you di’n’t. You did not just set up that joke. I ain’t playin’.

Shay wants to listen too, but Kit says it’s not for tender ears. Shane gets all mom-like and says, “No, no,” and also tells Shay to quit scratching under his cast with a dinner knife because “It’s not good for you.” Wow. Shane as the arbiter of health. When did this show slip through a wormhole?

As if to answer my question, Papi arrives and greets Kit: “Whassup, beautiful?” Kit says “Hola.” Please don’t encourage her, Kit.

Papi’s really there to talk to Shane about the “problema” that’s unresolved because they didn’t finish the basketball game.

Shane: Look, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.

Papi: Oh, really? A’ight, so lemme break this down for you, OK? Now that you’re in my solar system, I can’t have you dimming my stars and s—.

Kit: You must be kidding.

Shane: Yeah, seriously, that’s Alice’s thing. That’s not me.

Papi: F—, man, I’m just f—in’ wit you. Like the foxy lady said, I’m just kidding.

I love the way Shane’s been looking at Papi — as if she’s from another solar system indeed. You know, the Wayward Accent System in the Repugnant Hat Galaxy.

Cooking — Phyllis and Alice are at Alice’s apartment, where Helena has been cooking all day. Phyllis is glad to see that Helena’s getting five kinds of crostini ready for the big fund-raising event, but she’s much more excited about the prospect of getting some alone time with Alice. As Helena runs down the menu, Phyllis makes lots of unsubtle faces at Alice, who responds with the sort of trapped look Sounder probably had when Jenny adopted him.

Alice offers to help Helena — “I’m a good chopper” — but Phyllis whisks her away to the bedroom, where she throws Alice on the bed.

Alice: Wooo! Cool your jets, there, Phyllis.

Phyllis has a present for Alice: The Whole Lesbian Sex Book.

Phyllis: Is it a faux pas?

Alice: No, no.

Phyllis: I was thinking we were having such a wonderful time and, just to try to keep everything just fresh and exciting, maybe we could experiment.

Alice: Right. Right, right, right, right. Like, uh … let’s see … [flipping to a page] oh! Anilingus!

Phyllis: Sure!

Alice: Yeah. [putting the book down] You know what, I’m sorry. Yes! Yes, let’s experiment!

Phyllis says she wants to do everything in that book. Alice says Phyllis is going to wear her out and she’s going to need a pinch hitter. But Phyllis says Alice is the only one she needs. Alice tells her she really should explore:

Alice: You’re a new star. You’re gonna be very sick of staying in this tiny little orbit.

Phyllis: Oh, you and your charts and your solar systems. Alice, you and I are binary stars.

Alice: [worriedly] Right.

Phyllis: Orbiting a central system of mass. Bound by gravity.

Alice: OK.

And then they giggle and make out. But Phyllis isn’t kidding about the mass: She’s seriously thinking of Alice as her one and only. Heavy, heavy.

Debbie does dinner — Jenny and Lindsey are having dinner. How can you tell? Because Jenny is talking with her mouth full. Like, really juicily and grossly.

They talk about animals; Jenny wants to know if Lindsey works with animals because she doesn’t trust people. Lindsey almost takes the bait, saying, “I didn’t, not for a long time after I, uh … ” but then thinks better of it. Jenny just keeps chomping and prodding: “Did something happen to you?” But Lindsey says she doesn’t want to talk about it because she doesn’t think it’s fair to “force people to express sympathy for something that happened to you in your childhood.”

Jenny/Debbie: Oh, I’m so sorry, but you know what? Own the s— that happens to you as a child, because you know what? It can make you better as an adult.

Yep. You’re walking, talking, dog-killing proof of that, Jenny.

Lindsey really, really doesn’t want to talk about, let alone “own,” the stuff that happened to her as a child, so Jenny tries another approach:

Jenny/Debbie: You’re kinda sexy. God, and you have nice t—. And you’re sweating under your arms and you’re nervous and I wanna kiss you.

Lindsey: I feel like kissing you. But I can’t.

Jenny/Debbie: Why?

Because your mouth is full.

Nah, it’s because Lindsey has a girlfriend, of course. She reveals that they’re having problems because Stacey the journalist works too hard.

Jenny/Debbie: She’s a writer? Ugh.

Lindsey: What? She gets totally focused on her work and then she’s, like, obsessive and self-absorbed

Jenny/Debbie: Oh, my God, I just have this image in my mind of her. And she just becomes this f—ing c— and just turns out page after page of utter s— that she thinks is worth all the ego and maniacal behavior.

Lindsey: She is a good person, and she’s smart and she’s funny. She’s just a little insecure, that’s all.

Oh, come on. Jenny, why don’t you just look directly at the camera and say, “This is all about me and the people who write me into being! Get it?”

Lindsey reveals that Stacey lives in Burbank (and Lindsey’s in Santa Barbara), so they have an arrangement about going to each other’s residences on the weekends, but Lindsey is carrying the larger burden in that little deal. Jenny says Lindsey deserves someone who will put her first and treat her like a princess.

Lindsey: She’s driven and she’s talented, and I feel honored to support that. I do.

But then she confesses that sometimes it feels like she’s the last thing on Stacey’s list. Is Stacey’s list anything like Craig’s list? Because those people never show up when they say they’re going to come get your couch.

Lindsey wants to change the subject, so she asks Debbie what she’s doing this weekend.

Jenny/Debbie: Well, I’ve been terribly distraught about the dog being put down, so I’m rather behind on my schoolwork.

Lindsey: Schoolwork? What are you studying? Seriously?

Jenny/Debbie: The gentle manatees of northeast Florida.

Lindsey snickers in a way that lets me know that the person who plays her (Caroline Cave) is all too familiar with the manatees thing. And I chortle too: That was hilarious.

This Debbie persona is weird. I mean, when Jenny started that “terribly distraught” sentence, she was extra affected, almost like she was doing some sort of Truman Capote-ish character. Oh, I forgot about Holly Goheavily.

Home smutty home — Tina and Henry come home just in time to see Hazel and Angus making out on the front step. The Valley Girl and the Quarterback duck down in the bushes for a minute — no, not the way Papi and Helena did. Ewww.

Tina: [after Hazel goes inside] She is so fired.

A magazine stand — Shay is looking at some comics. Bette saunters up and says hi.

Shane: He has a playdate with his friend.

Bette: Nice. That’s probably the last word on earth I ever expected to be uttered from your lips.

Well, in that context, anyway.

Bette browses the magazines. She picks up The New Yorker, in which Jenny has apparently had a piece published. It’s called “Lez Girls.” Bette and Shane explain the pun for us plebeian viewers: It’s a reference to Les Girls. Have I mentioned that I dig Gene Kelly? Three out of five lesbians agree.

Facing the music — Max is typing up his resignation letter. His boss knocks on the door and says he spoke to Brooke. Max steels himself for the worst, but it seems all the boss knows is that Brooke dumped Max. He says he’s starting to lose hope for his daughter and then assures Max that none of this will have any bearing on his job.

Whew. That’s a relief. Or is it? Max must be sort of wishing he could just come out already instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Oh, I’ve mixed my metaphors. I mean, he wishes he could just escape the subroutine already instead of waiting for it to run. OK, now I’ve just embarrassed myself.

Speaking of geeky stuff, Max’s desktop (with the 3-D model and snippets of code and strings of hex) looks like one of those desktop images you can use to make it look like you’re working. Just sayin’.

The playdate — Paige (Kristanna Loken) is primping for Shane. After Shay and Shane arrive, Shay and Jared go off to play video games. Paige invites Shane in for coffee, and Shane pretends to resist for about two seconds.

A lunch best served cold — At the magazine stand, Bette stops traffic — with an actual hand rather than just her stunning looks — and skips across the street. Well, not quite skips, but there’s definitely a bounce in her step. And soon we see why: She’s meeting Tina for lunch. But the smile runs away from her face when she learns why Tina wanted to meet her: to talk about Angus’s infidelity.

Bette doesn’t believe it at first, and then tells Tina to stay out of it and keep her mouth shut. Would it be weird if I made a little sound file of Bette saying, “Shut your mouth”? I could put it on the CD I have of Helen Stewart (from Bad Girls) saying, “Sit down!”

I should note that this whole conversation started with “Henry and I were coming home” — which prompts Bette to say, “I knew you’d move in with him.” Tina says she hasn’t moved in with him; she just spends the night sometimes. “OK,” says Bette, with a look that says it so isn’t.

For thoughts on Tina’s weird head-shaking thing and the looping in this scene, listen to the podcast. Laurel, where did you go? I was a fan during seasons 1 and 2. Come back. Even sharing the screen with Beals doesn’t seem to be helping.

I think “come back” is what Bette’s thinking during this lunch, or at least some part of her is, especially when she and Tina simultaneously order the Cobb salad and then feel awkward. Awww.

On the subject of Angus, Tina says Kit’s gonna find out eventually, “and I can tell you from experience it’s much more painful seeing it with your own eyes.” Bette tells her not to act like she’s the only person who’s ever been hurt.

I recapped that all out of order, but the scene was no less disjointed.

Two of lez girls — Helena is still assembling the food for Phyllis’ party. Alice shows up, throws a copy of The New Yorker on the stilton-walnut-whatever endive and asks Helena if she’s read Jenny’s story.

Alice reads aloud about the character “Elyse” (Alise?), who “clung to the bisexual label not out of any genuine affection for men; she clung to it out of sheer fashion desperation.” Helena doubts that the character is meant to be Alice but has to admit there’s something “a little close to the bone” about “Nina” and “Bev,” the lesbian neighbors of “Jessie” and “Todd.” Nina is “a bi-curious straight girl, a girl who would waste eight years of someone else’s life trying out an identity that was never going to fit her.” Helena agrees that that’s just plain mean and harsh.

By now, Alice has moved on to snacking on the various treats for the party.

Helena: Your girlfriend’s gonna tell me off if you eat all my food.

Alice: Oh, you know what, she’s not my girlfriend.

Better confirm that with her, Alice. She totally binaried you earlier.

Still playing and dating — Paige is dusting off coffee mugs and platitudes in an effort to impress Shane. She says Shane’s great with Shay, under “really intense circumstances.”

Paige reveals that she telemarkets by day and bartends by night, at Beauty Bar. Shane asks, “Isn’t that the place with the hair salon chairs?” — perhaps in case she needs a place to go after Wax goes under from lack of attention or is set alight by one of Cherie Jaffe’s goons. Not that this show ever drops anvils or anything.

Kristanna Loken is doing a good job with the whole nervous-awkward thing. And the digging-Shane thing. Not to mention the towering-over-her thing. But what is that tramp stamp about? And check out the latch hook wall hanging in the dining room, depicting purple and orange toadstools. My sister had something like that in her bedroom in 1977, next to the poster of a guy eating Alpo dog food.

Paige says Jared’s dad is a deadbeat, and adds, “I’d be happy to never f— another man in my life.” After Shane just sort of blinks, Paige quickly steers the conversation back to Jared:

Shane: I’m guessing you must have been, what, 16 when you had him?

Paige: Eighteen. But sometimes I feel like I’m a million years old. And before you know it, I will be too old and wretched to pick up the pieces.

Shane: Oh, please, you’re beautiful. I don’t think you have to worry about that.

Paige: Are you hitting on me?

Shane: Uh … I wasn’t, um, but I’m sorry to make you uncomfortable if you think I was.

Paige: No, no, I’m sorry. I was hoping you were.

I don’t care how many stars there are in Papi’s stupid constellation: Shane is the queen of gettin’ some without even trying. But not right now: The boys interrupt, so Shane thanks Paige for the coffee and Paige says she hopes they can do it again. Mmm hmmm.

How the other half of Phyllis lives — At Phyllis’ fund-raising shindig, Helena chats with Phyllis’ husband, Leonard, who’s eating all the hors d’ouevres. “[Phyllis] certainly manages to squeeze a lot in,” notes Helena. Har hrrr.

Elsewhere, Phyllis is leaving a voice mail for Alice, in which she says (1) she wishes Alice were coming to the party; (2) she misses her; and (3) she loves her. Phyllis seems unable to believe that those last words came out of her mouth: She stares at the phone as if it’s just shocked her. The never-ending mirrors framing Phyllis are a nice touch: Who will she be today? The executive vice chancellor, or the explorer of the whole of lesbian sex?

Truth is just as badass as fiction — Alice is at Shane’s place, to pick her up for a night out at Here. Shane asks Jenny if she wants to go; Jenny replies affirmatively, again with her mouth full. And then the smackdown begins (try to read this really quickly because this is a zingy, fast-paced scene):

Alice: If she’s going, I’m not going.

Shane: What? What are you talking about?

Alice: Jenny, you know what I’m talking about.

Jenny: [masticating] What are you talking about, Alice?

Alice: No, just call me Elyse, the bisexual fashion victim. I’m sorry, is my hat too much?

Jenny: A little. What?

Shane: What are you talking about?

Alice: Jenny wrote a story. It was published in The New Yorker — we’re all very, very excited for you, Jenny —

Shane: No, no, no, I heard about it —

Alice: But we’re in it.

Shane: [staring blankly at Alice]

Alice: We’re in it.

Shane: [looking at Jenny] Oh.

Jenny: Thank you, Alice, for being so gracious about my accomplishment of being published in The New Yorker. But, Alice, if you actually read beyond the cover —

Alice: Oh, I read it.

Jenny: You did?

Alice: Yeah.

Jenny: — it’s in the New Yorker fiction issue, therefore you’d see that it was actually a work of fiction.

Alice: Oh, that’s bulls—. [to Shane] I take it you haven’t read this [air quotes] story?

Shane: Clearly not, no.

Jenny: [to Max, the innocent bystander] You read it. Tell her.

Max: Yeah, I read it. [to Alice] She claims that it’s not you.

Jenny: It’s not. I draw from my own life, and I use my friends and my own experiences as inspiration, but at the end of the day, it’s fiction.

Alice: Right. Right. [to Shane] Yeah, there’s this character named Shaun, Shane, and, um [to Jenny] she’s a make-up artist? Right? Correct?

Jenny: [innocently] Mmm hmmm.

Alice: Yeah, and she sleeps with a lot of girls.

Shane: [shrugging] That’s not bad.

Jenny: Hey, Alice, you know, there’s this crazy, weird thing that happens when you write. As a writer —

Alice: Wait, is this a lesson?

Jenny: Yeah!

Alice: In writing?!

Jenny: Yeah!

Alice: From Jenny Schecter?!

Jenny: Yeah!

Alice: Oh, fahhkk, let me grab a pen!

Jenny: Get a pad too! So this thing that happens when you write is you draw from your own life, and then in turn, you take those experiences and you use something called imagination, Alice —

Alice: Oh, imagination! God, so that’s the thing you were lacking when you could barely change our names, huh?

Jenny: Just a second. You guys … [cupping her ear] do you … do you hear that?

Alice and Shane: [staring, waiting]

Jenny: Oh, my God, it’s Monet. Monet has come back from the dead and he wants me to give you a message. He says, “I am so sorry for sitting in front of my pond in France and sketching those water lilies and using the water lilies as actual inspiration. Sorry to offend, Alice.”

Alice: Right, right. Oh, wait, he’s talking to me! So weird. Huh? [listening] What? OK, I’ll tell her. He said don’t ever f—ing compare yourself to him.

I loved that so much, I watched it three times. And then like 30 more.

Hmmm, so last week, Jodi was talking about how revolutionary the Impressionists were in their day, and now Jenny’s talking about Monet. Can I get a shout out to Cassatt next?

Phyllis and the financiers — Jodi and Tom are chatting with some muckety-mucks. They don’t seem terribly interested, and also seem annoyed by the fact that she’s signing. They take their leave rather gracelessly:

Rich guy: [enunciating excessively] Well, it was nice to meet you, Don.

Tom: Tom. And I’m not deaf.

Rich guy: Oh, right. And, um …

Jodi: Jodi. And I’m deaf.

They see Bette mingling and wave her over. Jodi seems a little nervous, which is cute.

Bette: My my, you clean up nice.

Jodi: Thanks. I can’t say the same for you.

Bette: [turning to Tom] Tom. So nice to see you.

Tom: Thank you.

Bette: [turning back to Jodi] Did you just insult me?

Jodi: No. You’re just always so very clean. I can’t even imagine you being dirty at all.

Bette: Oh, I’ve been plenty dirty.

Jodi: I have a hard time picturing that. Sorry, I just … I don’t know, maybe a fetching little smudge [reaching for Bette’s face]

Bette: [catching Jodi’s hand midair] Dirtier.

Bette and Jodi both seem somewhat embarrassed, and considerably turned on. The latter is true for me as well.

Jodi says she doesn’t envy Bette, having to raise money from creeps like the one who called Tom “Don.” Bette says it’s not so bad, but then she concedes: “It’s a f—ing nightmare.”

After some tension-relieving laughter, Jodi suggests that they go get stoned. Bette says she can’t do that, but Jodi insists. Bette looks furtively around the room and then follows Jodi out. Dean Porter, you were that girl who always said no and did the miscreant deed anyway, weren’t you? Naughty.

The war of words — Alice, Jenny and Shane are at the bar, and Alice and Jenny are still bickering. Jenny says Alice draws from real life for her radio show too, but Alice says that’s totally different. Jenny waves her finger; Alice drops a bunch of “whatevers” on Jenny. It just gets better and better:

Alice: Do you know who makes this hat, by the way?

Jenny: Who?

Alice: Do you know?

Jenny: No.

Alice: You don’t know. You don’t know who makes this hat.

Jenny: I would guess the lead singer of the Village People.

Before Alice can wipe that smirk off Jenny’s face, Papi interrupts them to introduce her friend Tasha. Alice invites them to have a drink, so Papi goes to the bar. She asks Tasha what she wants, but Tasha says, “I can buy my own drink.”

Papi says this is Tasha’s welcome back into the world and starts to explain what she means by that, but Tasha says, “Shut up, Papi.” Tasha, even if you weren’t already a thousand times cooler than Poopi, we’d all love you just for shutting her up.

Someone walks by and sort of bumps Tasha’s shoulder, and Tasha gives the passerby a look of death that seems to both frighten and intrigue Alice. Tasha goes out to have a smoke; Alice looks after her and asks Papi whether she’s OK. Papi says, “She’s cool,” but that’s like Max talking about computers: feigned expertise, no real experience.

Mellow — Bette and Jodi are smoking pot. Tom’s there too, and yes, I realize that’s to be expected, but this is getting sort of intimate. Do they call you Tom because you peep?

Jodi seems very familiar with the art of inhaling. So does Bette, actually. Tom says, “She knows what she’s doin’,” and the look on Jodi’s face says, “I’d like to plumb the depths of her knowledge.”

Meanwhile, back at the bar — Shane is watching a couple of pretty young things as they dance. One of them comes over to her and says, “I saw you watching me.” Shane says, “Yes, I was,” in that straightforward Shane way. The go-go girl introduces herself as Ruby — at first I could have sworn she said Furby — but before Shane can get her mojo working, Papi swoops in. She chats up Ruby very effectively, making small talk about families and kids. Shane slaps Papi on the shoulder and says, “Merry Christmas, Papi,” and “That’s a cute hat.” Heh. And then she leaves Papi to the spoils. Papi pretends to apologize for interrupting something, but then she just asks Ruby to dance. Papi does a sort of celebratory “I’m cool” move as Ruby goes to the dance floor. Ugh.

Jeez, hats are everywhere in this episode. Papi’s is this gold mesh cap thing with a funkadelic design. Guess there was a sale at the Things My 3-Year-Old Made shop.

Elsewhere, Jenny suddenly sees Stacey Merkin, who’s dancing with Lindsey. Jenny/Debbie freaks, of course:

Jenny: Stacey Merkin is here.

Alice: The vagina wig?!

Jenny: Yes, she’s here! Just look casual, just look like nothing’s happening.

But then Stacey spots Jenny and Lindsey spots Debbie and both start to come over. Jenny takes drastic action:

Jenny: Can you kiss me?

Alice: No!

Jenny: Please kiss me.

Alice: I don’t kiss girls who wear doilies.

Jenny: I beg you. I will buy you Starbucks for a week. Please. I beg you. Yes, yes, yes. Please.

Alice: OK.

Jenny: OK, go. Ready? 1, 2, 3 …

Doilies. Snicker.

Alice and Jenny kiss, and Jenny sort of climbs onto Alice. Shane stands by in horror. It’s only slightly less hilarious than the awkward Jenny/Dana almost-sex scene. Sigh. Dana. Remember her?

Phyllis’ party — Helena is schmoozing with a guy who’s an old friend of her mother’s. But she can’t continue to play the heiress because there’s a problem in the kitchen: Something’s burning, and in the process of trying to rescue it, Helena slams into a guy with a tray of glasses and thus gets glass all over the rest of the food.

Um. Next to the doily-rific kissing, that’s only mildly amusing. What job will Helena screw up next? Tollbooth operator? Pedicurist? Dog walker? Soda jerk?

Alice wants a ride — Alice is chatting with enigmatic, cool Tasha, who’s not unmoved by approachable, warm Alice.

Alice: So, how long have you known Papi?

Tasha: Five years.

Alice: Five years? Wow. How’d you meet her?

Tasha: Hangin’ out.

Alice: Oh. Ya like hangin’ out?

Tasha: It’s a’ight.

It continues along those terse lines when Alice asks Tasha why she wasn’t at the basketball game with Papi’s crew. Tasha says she was out of town. Alice just sort of nods, so Tasha finally gives in and gives her something to work with. “I guess I like workin’ on my ride. I got a Triumph Scrambler.”

Alice: Get the f— outta town. You have a motorcycle?! F—, that’s cool. ‘Cause I have this kinda new obsession with motorcycles. I dunno why, but I want one. Wow. How fast do you go?

Tasha: On the open road I’ve taken her up to about 120.

Alice: A hundred and twenty? Miles an hour? Dayumn, that’s fast. Very.

Tasha: I’ll take you for a ride sometime.

Alice: Really? I would love that. That’d be cool.

I am embarrassed by the goofy grin on my face. I’m not alone: Alice is wearing one too.

Alice’s cell phone interrupts. It’s Helena; she needs Alice to bring her some caviar so she can salvage the party.

Bad girls — Bette is high. You can tell this because she’s saying the party is so much better than she thought it would be. Jodi says, “You are much naughtier than I thought you would be.” As if to demonstrate, Bette asks for more. Jodi asks Tom whether he thinks Bette has ever been “really jacked up,” but Tom says he’d rather preserve his vision of Dean Porter as the “impenetrable ice queen.” This elicits one of those stoned laughs from Bette — the deep, throaty kind that come out when you open your mouth as wide as it can possibly go. And then Bette says, “That is so f—ed up,” and proceeds to offer up some more THC-laced, halting sentences. It’s divine.

A crashing party — Alice is trying to leave, having delivered the caviar Helena wanted. When Phyllis sees Alice, they both freeze a little, and it just gets worse when Alice makes small talk with Leonard, Phyllis’ husband. Then Alice sees the conveniently placed (and glaringly Photoshopped) family photographs. Phyllis looks like she’s about to bite into her wine glass.

Alice leaves without looking at Phyllis.

Back in the high life — Bette is telling a story about the time she and Tina were on a yacht and a senator with a cigarillo-sized penis tried to hit it with them. (Like how I just condensed a way-too-long story into one sentence?)

It’s getting so cozy and comfortable, it’s clearly time to up the stakes: Jodi asks Bette whether she knows how to shotgun. “Well, you’re just gonna have to find out,” says Bette. Surprise, surprise: she does know, and the smoke almost leads to a kiss — but then they stop when they hear someone exiting the house. They see Phyllis walking by the pool, following Alice.

Phyllis tries to explain her loveless marriage to Alice and tells Alice she loves her. But Alice says she never even thought for a second that Phyllis had a husband and kids. Never mind that Bette told her to think about that last week. Alice says it’s just not right and it can’t work. Phyllis holds tight to Alice’s hands, but Alice just turns and walks away.

Bette looks on sadly as Phyllis goes back inside.

NEXT WEEK ON THE L WORD: Jenny continues to scheme against Stacey; Tasha and Alice take things slow; Bette and Jodi speed things up.

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

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