TV

“The L Word” Recaps 4.9 “Lacy Lilting Lyrics”

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

Exits: Kit knows how to make them dramatic, in a totally lackadaisical way.

Sprung: The fate of lovely, lissome ladies as spring draws nigh.

Words: What Tasha doesn’t need – but knows how to use.

THIS WEEK’S GUEST-BIANS: Karina Lombard sets the stage; Cybill Shepherd swoops in for a hug; Kristanna Loken stands by her woman; Eric Roberts is evil; Bruce Davison crashes and cries.

Some L-words – Marina is in a top hat and is surrounded by women. (What else is new?) The women – or, more specifically, dancers – are in a sort of Busby Berkeley kaleidoscope-of-girls arrangement. It’s like 1930s Hollywood has slipped through a burlezque looking glass.

Marina is spouting L-words: “lovely, lissome ladies; lecherous, leering lotharios; love is in the air.” You may not be familiar with this sort of love, says emcee Marina, but it can alter your world. Yeah, that’s what you told Jenny, and look how she turned out.

So I guess this is the dance troupe Marina’s touring with. The dancing is provocative and enchanting, but Marina’s weird, Laurie Anderson-ish manner of speaking is freaking me out a little.

The performance, or whatever it is, finishes with Marina saying: “Les jeunes filles. Lez girls.” Oh, boy.

A studio lot – Tina is trying to convince Jenny of someone’s credentials.

Tina: He’s made three Hollywood hits. Blue Crush, Into the Blue – he’s fantastic.

Jenny: Isn’t Into the Blue, like, about somebody showing their ass on a beach or something?

Tina: What? No. Did you see Crazy/Beautiful?

Jenny: No.

Tina: Kirsten Dunst. She’s phenomenal in it.

Jenny: So?

Heh. Yeah, that’s my reaction to Kirsten Dunst too. Also, Jenny, that is a great synopsis of Into the Blue.

Tina insists that the guy is qualified. Jenny – who is wearing her bug-eye sunglasses again – says she doesn’t want to feel “shushed” in this process and wants to make sure her voice is heard. Tina sort of shushes her anyway as they go to meet the so-called fantastic director.

The director, John Stockwell, says he loves to explore “subcultures” and thinks Jenny did an amazing job bringing her subculture to life. You know: The morphing-into-a-fly subculture. Tina is clearly still part of that.

They talk about how Jenny’s such a visual writer and Stockwell’s such a visual director. Jenny is getting good at this schmoozing stuff, which should scare her, but she probably doesn’t even notice.

The director suggests starting with extreme close-ups of body parts, specifically, “Jessie” and “Karina’s” body parts while they’re f—ing. Jenny doesn’t like that because you’re not supposed to know right away that Jessie and Karina are going to get together.

Stockwell suggests that the two actresses actually have sex rather than fake it. Well, why not, since we’re using the name Karina?! This is all getting very real indeed. Where’s the fourth wall when you need it?

Tina: Isn’t that pornography?

Stockwell: Why? Pornography is when there’s no story. This has a great story. I just am trying to find a way to make it different, to make it stand out. I think the MPAA would allow us to get away with it because there’s no penetration … well, there’s penetration, but there’s no … you know, there’s no consummation. I mean, no … um, insemination, no fornication.

Jenny: Ewww.

First, if pornography is when there’s no story, what do you call it when there’s a story but an extremely jumpy camera? Because I’m getting seasick.

Second, since when is the MPAA lesbian-friendly? They’re the reason I had to buy the Canadian version of When Night Is Falling, and that didn’t even show much.

And finally, you suck. This is much worse than “ewww”; you’ve just declared lesbian sex inauthentic, like so many men before you – and the word you were looking for there was “penis.” Never mind whether there’s penetration or consummation or whatever: There’s no penis. That’s how we like it.

The scene ends before we can hear more of Jenny’s thoughts on all of this. And Tina’s remarks, given her political identity and her sexual eventualities, would have been especially interesting. But it’s OK; as long as the director takes that hopping handheld camera with him, I’m happy.

Polyamory in action – Bette is parking her car. As she crosses the parking lot, she sees Jodi with a blonde. Jodi is touching the woman – holding her hands, playing with her hair, caressing her – and for a moment I think the blonde is Nadia. But whew, it’s not quite that bad.

When Bette registers what’s going on, she almost imperceptibly winces and clenches her jaw. And then she steels herself, stands up straight and marches forth with a killer stare. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that. And that’s the only situation in which I can write that sentence in relation to Bette.

Jodi sees Bette and immediately drops her hands, pushing the woman away a little.

Jodi introduces the woman as Amy – just “Amy.” Bette signs, “It’s nice to meet you.” Amy returns the greeting. Bette marches away stiffly, so Jodi runs to catch up with her as Amy gets in her car and leaves. How funny is it that Amy’s driving an El Camino or Ranchero or whatever? Now that was a funny idea. It’s a car! It’s a pickup! It’s a pick-car car-up!

Bette is staring straight ahead, her mouth a razor-straight line.

Jodi: Hey.

Bette: [coldly] What’s up?

Jodi: Want to go get some coffee?

Bette: Uh, I can’t. I have a bunch of work to do before the faculty meeting. But I’ll see you later.

And Dean Porter strolls away. With her body language, Jodi says, “Damn.”

The music during this scene is interesting, if completely jarring. It’s “Stone,” by Bitch. I guess it’s applicable in a couple of ways: Bette is very stone-faced, and Jodi’s “stone” of polyamory is perhaps about to be, um, turned? (The lyrics say, “I knew I could unstone you, but what for?”)

The Planet – Kit is moping around. She sees Angstus and says, “What the f— is he doing in here?” The barista starts to explain that he’s “helping out” with vendors and such, but Kit just walks away and goes to her office.

And in her office, she finds a flood of flowers. They’re from Angus, of course. She reads the card on one of the bouquets: “Dear Kit, Please know my sorrow is as deep as my love for you. Angus.” She picks up another card, which reads, “Kit. I can’t live without you. Love, Angus.”

I just rolled my eyes so hugely and severely, I gave myself a lobotomy. Oh, good: I’ll finally be able to relate to Angus!

Kit sighs, sits down at her desk and tears up the cards. And reaches for a bottle. She slides it away from her on the desk and stares at it. I love the way this is shot: The camera closes in on the bottle, and behind it, Kit’s face moves from one side to the other, peering into the alcohol as if she’s divining something.

Before she can decide whether to imbibe, there’s a knock at the door. She hides the bottle and says, “Come in.”

Another floral arrangement makes its way through the door. Kit assumes the face behind the flowers will be that of mopey, moony-eyed Angstus, so she starts to tell him to go away and just stop it. But this particular bouquet (which is a dozen red roses and is of considerably higher quality than Angus’ offerings) is from the ever-behatted Papi.

Papi: [looking around at all the flowers] Well, damn. Looks like someone beat me to it.

Kit: No one beat you to anything.

Papi: [handing her the flowers] Here you go. I had to, you know, thank you for letting me take you dancing the other night.

Kit: Well, thank you. You showed me respect, you know? And that really means the world to me right now.

Papi: Well, it was an honor and a privilege. And, uh, maybe we can do it again sometime soon, under less compromising circumstances, if you know what I mean.

Kit: Yeah, well, I don’t think I’m gonna be any less compromised anytime soon.

Papi: Then baby, I’ll wait for you. Because then I can show you that you’ll never need a man ever again. You know Papi can rock your world, right?

Kit: [sighing] When you gonna stop that?

Papi: Stop what?

Kit: [making braggadocio movements with her shoulders] All that “Papi,” you know, thing you do.

Papi: [blank stare]

Kit: You know, the other night, I saw a different side of Papi. A side that was deeper and warmer. You know, not that Papi player thing you do to death. If there was a Papi that I’d be attracted to, that would be the Papi that would rock my world.

Kit leaves her office. Papi just thinks and stares and smiles slightly.

Wait. Did somebody finally call Papi on all her BS? Did Kit just get more than five lines in a row? Which show am I watching again?

I love the way Kit has suddenly mastered the art of the dramatic exit, or, rather, the indifferent go-somewhere-else: First she ambled into her office while the barista was explaining why Angus is there, and now she’s shuffling back out while Papi is taking in her proclamations. Girl, she’s done wasting time on pleasantries.

A shot that leaves me breathless – Alice and Tasha are in bed, entwined. Alice is watching Tasha sleep. It is simply beautiful.

Tasha wakes up. When their eyes meet, I swoon a little. OK, a lot.

Alice: You were having quite the little sex dream.

Tasha: No, I wasn’t.

Alice: You were. You were like, “mmm, mmm.”

Tasha: You’re full of s—.

Alice: I’m not! Then who’s Lisa?

Tasha: What?

Alice: You were saying her name. Lisa.

Tasha: No, I wasn’t.

Alice: Is she an ex? Was she your girlfriend?

Tasha: No. She was, um, someone that I served in Iraq with.

Alice: Oh.

Tasha: A straight girl with a husband and a child. You worried?

Alice: No.

Well, I’m worried. I’m worried that this will become an overblown post-traumatic stress disorder story line and we’ll lose the fabulous Tasha we’re all starting to love. But I’ve been worried about that for a while now, so I’ll be OK.

Tasha and Alice’s sweet wake-up talk is interrupted by a call from the hallway: Helena is back from Mallorca, and she’s got the sombrero to prove it.

Alice tells her to “get in here,” but Helena is a little startled when she opens the bedroom door to see Alice and Tasha in their postcoital glory. But they assure her it’s OK – not that I would kick Helena out if she sombrero-ed her way into my bedroom, no matter how in flagrante I might be.

Helena flops onto the bed and recounts her travels: First she and Catherine went to New York to drop off Helena’s kids (aren’t kids convenient, especially when you can just drop them off?), and then they jetted off to Mallorca to stay in a villa and play poker.

Alice: You flew all that way to play poker? It’s so, like, unhealthy and unstable, and …

Helena: What are you, my mother now?

Alice: Well, you know what? If I was, I would probably disinherit you as well.

Tasha has been quietly getting dressed during this little exchange, in preparation for her scene-stealing moment. When Helena reveals that she won the poker game, there’s amazement all around:

Alice: You won?!

Helena: Only $150,000!

Alice: Oh my God! [to Tasha] I should play poker!

Tasha: [eye roll]

I guess it’s not just an eye roll; it’s also a “you’re insane” stare. Whatever it is, to me it will always be one of the best moments of any season.

Alice wants to know the details of Helena’s agreement with Catherine. Do they split their winnings fifty-fifty? “Yeah, pretty much,” says Helena.

Alice: Pretty much?

Helena: Yeah, we – you know. We have an agreement. It’s fine, Alice. It’s fine. It’s how they do it.

And now Tasha’s just smiling quietly to herself. Tasha, could you please take over the recaps? You can say more with your face than I could say in a hundred pages of babble.

Before Alice can protest further, they hear a voice outside, calling, “Tash! Alice!”

Alice: Is that Papi?

Tasha: Sounds like it.

Alice: Papi! Ring the buzzer!

The scene ends abruptly, so we’ll never know whether Papi is too drunk on her new love for Kit to find the buzzer, or just prefers to make a Romeo-like entrance. Perhaps she’s tripped on her own ego – or her hat – and can’t get up. She’s flailing under a humongous fedora! Call the haberdashery containment squad!

Shane’s accursed existence – Shane is telling Paige about Gabe’s sudden reappearance. Shane, you look so scary when your heart is aching.

Paige: And he didn’t tell you why he was here?

Shane: I mean, he clearly wants something.

I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, Shane, and assume you’re just not saying it because you don’t want to speak it aloud. Because if you don’t know what Gabe wants, you really have been huffing too much hair spray. Or skateboard wax. Something.

Shane says Gabe is apparently trying to get Carla (Shay’s mom) into a hospital, although Shane doesn’t even know whether Carla is an addict. She does know Gabe was, though. I think you could say she knows it in the biblical sense, since Gabe’s behavior pretty much screwed her childhood.

A car horn honks outside. Shane says, “Here we go.”

Paige: Do you want me to come with you?

Shane: No, no … just [motioning to Shay and Jared] keep an eye on them.

Shay and Jared are playing in the pool – oh, so I guess they’re next door, at Bette’s house. Jared calls to Paige, “Mom, look what I can do!” He just cannonballs into the pool, which seems like no great feat. No doubt that’s why Paige says, in that tolerant, exhausted parent sort of way, “That’s excellent, honey.”

Once upon a mattress – Papi has found her way into Alice’s bedroom – no, not like that. She says she just wanted to stop by and make sure they weren’t going blind from too much sex. Does Papi have a key? How did she get in? I get that the buzzer may have let her into the building, but I think there’s also an inner door to contend with. Anyway, Papi clearly feels very much at home: She doffs her shoes and tumbles into bed with the other three.

Alice just ignores her and continues to grill Helena about her arrangement with Catherine. Helena assures her that she’s not an idiot, and they just have a business arrangement.

Alice: OK. I just think you should think about it for a second.

Papi: Yeah, but it’s not about thinking, man, you know? That’s just what happens when you’re sprung.

Helena: I’m not sprung!

Papi: You are, a little bit.

Helena: I don’t even know what that means!

Papi: You know, that’s what happens when your heart just does what it wants to. When you’re whipped.

And at that, Tasha guffaws. I’m finding that I lean forward and sit up straighter every time she makes a peep.

Tasha: She’s into somebody.

Papi: Man, I’m always into somebody. It’s not even like that.

Alice: [to Tasha] How do you know?

Tasha: She’s got the look.

Papi: Shut the f— up, man. There’s no look.

Tasha: See, now, every once in a blue moon – y’all don’t know this about her, but – she falls for somebody. And she gets that look. Look at her. Look, all sweet and confused.

I’ll give you “confused.” I’m not there with “sweet” yet.

Alice wants to know who the girl is, but Papi’s not talkin’. She says there might be somebody, but “it’s not even like that,” and this woman makes her want to “change [her] ways and s—.”

The doorbell rings again.

Alice: Oh, my God. What the frickin’ frak?

Alice winds herself up in the sheet and goes to answer the door. Meanwhile, Tasha tells Papi and Helena they’re both sprung. I like the happy, carefree vibe of this little slumber party, even if it does seem like it’s sort of out of nowhere. The group scenes should feel a little more organic than this. Step one: No revolving Twilight Zone doors through which tennis players die and Latinas are played by Indians. Still, the laughter is nice.

The door opens on a very disconcerted face: It’s Leonard, Phyllis’ husband. He says, “Hi, Alice.” Alice just blinks.

Shane’s place – Gabe is stomping around like he owns the place. He picks up a book.

Gabe: [brandishing the book] You got roommates?

Shane: Yep.

What? The presence of a book means Shane has roommates? Oh, my God, does this mean what I think it means? Shane can’t read!

Gabe wants to know where his son is. Shane says he’s next door. Gabe peers out the window and sees Paige.

Gabe: Who’s that?

Shane: She’s a friend of mine.

Gabe: You are a McCutcheon for sure.

Shane: What the hell’s that supposed to mean?

Gabe: Well, we’re survivors, you and me. When we fall off the wagon, we fall really hard. But we bounce back. And we always find a pretty girl to help put our s— back together.

Shane isn’t exactly fond of this comparison.

Shane: I’m nothin’ like you. And how dare you come into my house, and you sit there, and you build yourself up, because you’re a pathetic f—.

Gabe: I didn’t come here to argue with you, Shane.

Shane: Then why did you come here?

Gabe: I’m going back to Oregon this afternoon, and I’m taking my son home with me.

Shane: No. You can’t do that.

Sigh. This seems so doomed. They go back and forth a little about who’s more likely to win a custody battle, but we know the law is not really the issue here: It’s all about the story, and Shane’s story is pain. (Or, as the womping wits at TWoP have pointed out, Paine.)

Gabe reminds Shane that Shay could end up in foster care if the courts decide that neither Gabe nor Shane is fit to care for him. Shane takes it all out on the refrigerator. She bangs the freezer door as if its icy contents have frozen her soul. Er, something like that.

Maybe she’s just reacting to the psychobabbly refrigerator magnets: They say things like “fair,” “mad,” “equal,” “share” and “friend.” I think some swear word magnets would be more useful right about now. Or magnets that could be fashioned into a stake for Gabe’s vampiric heart.

Paige shows up and comes to Shane’s defense, but it’s pretty hollow; Gabe just shoots her down. Eric Roberts is so skeezy in this role. Gone are the last vestiges of my heterosexuality.

Liberating Leonard – Alice tells Leonard it isn’t really the best time for a visit. He says it wasn’t the best time for his world to come apart, either, and muscles his way in.

Alice mouths, “Oh, my God, help me,” to her bedridden buddies. Then she slips into the closet to put some clothes on.

Leonard says hello to Helena and introduces himself to everyone else. He asks Alice how she turned Phyllis into a lesbian. Yikes.

Tasha tries to take her leave – “You told me you took care of this s—” – but Alice wants her on the panel of Why Phyllis Is Gay. Helena opens the debate by noting that nobody turns anybody into a lesbian.

Leonard: She told me that you were the love of her life. That what she experienced with you was unprecedented. She said that the sex was life-altering.

Papi starts to give Alice a congratulatory grin, but Helena elbows her into silence.

Leonard proceeds to come apart as he sits down on “the goddamn bed” where it all happened. The 800-thread-count panel just shrugs and stares.

A clash of egos – Bette is in a grant meeting. The discussion of which grad students are most deserving seems to have dissolved into sniping about third-wave feminism and whether artists should drive Mercedes. The conference table – with Bette as its quietly suffering center – is reminiscent of The Last Supper. Not that Bette has a God complex or anything.

To end the grousing, Jodi bangs on the table. (If only she had used her shoe to do so.) She starts to say that she agrees with the third-wave feminist, but Bette cuts her off. And then when Jodi speaks up about the financial status of the next grant applicant, Bette shuts her up again.

Bette: We’re behind. We cannot debate criteria right now.

Jodi: You let them argue about nothing for 20 minutes.

Bette: It wasn’t about nothing.

Phyllis: Excuse me. I suggest we break for lunch.

Whew. Lesbian egos on parade.

Bette strides coldly out into the hallway. Jodi follows her and says they need to talk.

Jodi: Do you want to get something to eat?

Bette: I’m not hungry.

Jodi: If you’re mad at me about this morning, I wish you would tell me.

Bette: I’m not mad, OK? I’m just exhausted.

Jodi doesn’t buy that, so Bette asks Jodi where she and Amy went. Bette’s not really interested in that, though. She really just wants to be passive-aggressive: “I hope you had a good time.” Before Jodi can try to break through her walls, Bette is saved by the bell – her cell phone chirps. Jodi leaves in disgust.

Phyllis, who has been watching them from afar, asks Bette if she’s all right. Bette tells her she just got a text message from Alice. She shows the message to Phyllis. It says, “Leonard Kroll is in my bed.”

Phyllis just says, “No way.”

Packing Shay’s things – Paige tries to convince Shane to fight for Shay, but Shane is resigned. She just wants to keep Shay out of foster care. Paige continues to try to talk her through it, which just makes Shane yell.

Shane: Will you … will you stop? Please!

Paige doesn’t seem to like being yelled at. She says she and Jared are going to leave, and Shane should call if she wants to talk. Yep. This is definitely the house of Paine.

Alice’s encounter group – Leonard is now at the head of the bed, surrounded by Alice, Helena, Tasha and Papi. The camera circles them as they talk in circles.

Leonard offers possible reasons for Phyllis’ awakening sexuality: trendiness? Menopause? Each idea is gently but firmly shot down. Leonard also wants to know what “ladies” can do to a woman that a man can’t do, which of course prompts passionate reactions.

Alice: Um, Leonard, it’s not about sex. You know. I mean, it’s about so much more than that. There’s … things …

Helena: It’s about knowing what a woman is thinking, what a woman is feeling, when you touch her.

Papi: I don’t know about all that. Sometimes it’s great when people are completely different.

Alice: But it’s not about mechanics. This is something Phyllis is going through for the first time in her whole life. It’s very big.

The panel starts to discuss larger issues, like whether Phyllis’ realization was really about Alice or would have happened anyway, as well as the matter of Alice getting involved with a married woman. Leonard starts to fall apart again, insisting that Alice has cast some sort of spell on Phyllis. Tasha finally lays it all out for Leonard.

Tasha: Leonard, Leonard, Leonard, Leonard. Listen. You’ve gotta hold on to yourself, OK? Remember what’s important. All right? Your value in life is not Phyllis. You’re Leonard, and you still have a lot of great stuff ahead of you. You and Phyllis had an amazing run. You even have two beautiful children. But life is all about change, and you’ve gotta confront it head on. Do the hardest thing anyone could ever do. Leonard, you’ve gotta let her go.

Tasha, will you please be my life coach? Everyone else is impressed with her too.

Cue the doorbell.

Alice: Oh, my God.

It’s Phyllis, of course. She and Alice have a brief reunion in the hallway. Alice apologizes for how she left things between them.

Alice: I think it was just, um … too much. You know?

Phyllis: Yeah. I’m sorry too. I absolutely suffocated you. I was like a teenager in love, overwhelmed by my emotions. It was too much. I should never have put all that on you.

Alice: Well, I’d like to be friends.

Oh, of course. “Let’s be friends.” In other words, let’s remember we’re watching a show about lesbians!

Alice and Phyllis hug. Phyllis hangs on a little too long, and then the inevitable happens: Alice has locked herself out of her apartment. It’s cute, but who didn’t see it coming?

Having it out – Bette finds Jodi in her studio. She accuses Jodi of walking out in the middle of the conversation, but Jodi reminds her of what really happened.

Jodi: You were being snippy with me for going out with Amy – after you told me to go out with her.

Bette climbs up on the big sculpture thingie – which is beginning to look more and more like some sort of bondage playground – and asks Jodi how she’d feel if Bette brought someone she was dating to school and “paraded her around.” Jodi starts to answer, but Bette cuts her off again. She finally gets to what’s really bothering her:

Bette: Did you f— her?

Jodi: Yes, I f—ed her. [as Bette turns her back to her] But it didn’t work. Every time I looked at her, my head filled with pictures of you. Her skin didn’t feel as soft as yours. I didn’t like the way she touched me. And her kiss … didn’t make my head spin the way yours does. You’ve ruined me for anybody else. I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore. She was pretty upset. Bette. Please.

Bette: [turning around] You are a f—ing heartbreaker.

Well, that’s certainly how I’m feeling about all this. Bette’s face makes me want to sob. As does her blouse, actually.

Another meeting – A bunch of techie types are sitting quietly at a conference table. We’re in Max’s workplace, and Max’s boss isn’t happy. He says, “Can someone go see where Max is?” While they continue to wait, a text message passes between two of the employees: “Why don’t we just start without him … her … it?”

When Max finally arrives, the boss lectures him about time management and not making excuses and taking responsibility for his actions. I should feel incensed, and I sort of do, but I also feel a little sleepy. Max’s boss has one of those droning boss voices. Wah wah wah, Charlie Brown.

Yet another meeting – Tina and Jenny are meeting with Garry Marshall. Yes, really! He cracks me up. But this isn’t so funny:

Tina: That’s not why she went back to men. It was the humiliation of finding out that her lover was cheating on her. That was the reason.

Jenny: No. Nina went back to men because she’s one of those women that find safety and security by belonging to the dominant culture. She only feels safe if there’s a man by her side.

Sheesh. Maybe “Nina” herself might have some insight into this matter, hmm? Oh, I forgot – this is all fiction. Just like the “Karina” stuff at the beginning. There are so many intersecting realities here, I think I’m about to turn into Vamp Willow.

The thinly veiled vitriol is interrupted by some autograph seekers. Garry is happy to scrawl his name, but Jenny, ever the diva, shoos the starlets away. Garry begins to sketch out Lez Girls in his hilarious fashion:

Garry: I love these kinds of stories. Because I love the ladies’ stories. And I understand that Jerry is a woman, right?

Tina: Jenny.

Jenny: Jessie.

Tina: Oh, Jessie.

Garry seems to understand the “no more men” story that Jenny/Jessie claims to be aiming for. But then it becomes clear that Garry is seeing this as a romantic comedy, much to Jenny and Tina’s confusion. Garry proposes a twist: He wants to turn Jessie into some sort of princess.

Jenny: I just have, like, a little brainstormy thing. I think that … OK, what if Jessie is a sex worker. OK? And Karina is, like, a wealthy businesswoman. And then Karina hires Jessie for the night.

As Jenny babbles, Garry realizes she’s mocking Pretty Woman (which Garry directed). Tina tries to excuse Jenny, and Garry says he understands that she wants to protect her material. Be careful, Garry: Give her an inch, and she’ll take your last ounce of breath.

So, that’s two directors dismissed. Or dissed.

Still in the boudoir – Phyllis is trying to get Leonard to leave Alice’s apartment. He has just one more question. He grabs Phyllis and presents her to the Helena-Papi-Alice-Tasha panel:

Leonard: Is she not the most beautiful woman you have ever seen? And the most brilliant? So how the hell am I supposed to get over her?

Phyllis: I’m not really that great. Tell him, Alice.

Alice: Oh, Phyllis. You are great. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. She’s beautiful, Leonard.

Phyllis: But I’m a lesbian.

Alice: Yeah. Yeah, you’re one of those, too.

Helena says Leonard is fantastic too. Alice says, “He’s great,” and Phyllis assures Leonard that if she was ever going to be with a man again, she’d be with him. Everyone looks moved. I wonder if Alice is ever going to answer the door again.

Phyllis and Leonard finally leave. Alice asks, “Who needs a drink?” – and three hands pop up.

A fond farewell – Shane has an early birthday present for Shay: It’s an iPod. Gross Gabe interrupts and helps Shay hook up the headphones.

Shane tells them they should go. Gabe finally takes the hint and lets her have her moment with Shay.

Shane: I want you to be good to yourself. And you know I’m always here if you need me. So don’t forget that. I probably should have given you a better haircut.

I just had a premonition of Shane in her old age, tugging at her own wig and repeating, “I probably should have given you a better haircut.”

But really – this is horribly sad. After Gabe and Shay drive away, Shane breaks down. That is some very heartfelt sobbing, Kate Moennig. Well done.

Not as heartfelt – Max and Grace are chatting about Max’s job situation. Max knows his boss is just going to make his life miserable until he gives up and quits. Grace thinks that’s a good idea anyway, but Max says he can’t afford to quit. Will somebody please turn on the Joyce Wischnia bat signal? We miss you, Joyce!

The phone rings. It’s someone asking for Moira. Grace is confused, so Max says, “That’s me.” This is sorta like the moment someone came to the door asking for “Jeremy” in Better Than Chocolate, only somehow infinitely less interesting. Where’s Wendy Crewson when you need her?

The caller is Max’s sister, Maggie. She has bad news: Max’s mom has died. And it gets worse. Maggie doesn’t want Max to come to the funeral because it would be too uncomfortable for their dad.

Max: You know what, Maggie? It’s not up to you, OK? F— off.

Sigh. It actually looks much more dramatic than it was; it was just very forced, as is the rest of the scene. I’m sorry, Max. I’ve really tried to get on board, but what can I do if you insist on this kind of flat, strained, wholly soporific line delivery?

Grace tells Max he has to go to the funeral and offers to go with him.

Max: Why would you do that? I mean, you barely even know me.

Grace: It’s what I’d want someone to do for me.

I like you, Grace. Try to hook up with a different character so I can stay awake during your scenes.

A real slumber party – Alice, Tasha, Helena and Papi are still in bed, but now they’re drinking. Alice, ever the Pollyanna, thinks they helped Leonard. Tasha and Helena know better.

Alice says Papi’s break is over:

Alice: Who’s the girl?

Papi: First of all, there’s no girl. She’s a woman. And second, she’s special. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to respect her privacy.

Groan. Pass the bottle.

There’s a buzzing noise: Somebody’s cell phone is vibrating. Alice says, “Wait, I feel it,” as Tasha feels for it under the covers. Um, you know what I mean.

It’s Helena’s phone. Catherine is calling. At first, everyone teases Helena just for being generally smitten, but they soon have a different reason to mock her: Catherine wants Helena to pick up her dry cleaning.

Alice: What? You’re picking up her dry cleaning?

Papi: Sprung!

I hope that’s all it is. I hope Helena doesn’t eventually end up needing to be sprung in a different way. As in “from jail.”

Helena insists she’s just doing Catherine a favor. Papi mimics her in an English accent that’s much better than any other pseudo-accent she has affected this season. But I’ll give you a little credit, Papi. You seem to be having fun hanging out with these three, and you’re even being an OK friend to them. Just don’t say, “It ain’t even like that” again, OK?

Another cell phone buzzes. I giggle. It’s Alice’s this time; Shane is calling.

Alice: Oh, my God. We’ve been having a party in bed all day.

Papi: Shane, come over!

But Shane is in no mood to party. She tells Alice that Shay left and asks her to come meet her. She’s on the corner of Sunset and Harper, under another Shane-in-underpants billboard.

Shane: [staring up at the billboard] Fahhkk.

The Planet – Oh, right. Kit was struggling earlier. Like, way back at the beginning of the episode. And it seems she has since given in: She’s swilling beer and looking like she could belt out some blues any minute. I kinda like hard-luck Kit.

Angus sidles up and tells her she shouldn’t be drinking.

Kit: Yeah, and who do I have to thank for that, hmm?

Angus: Can I give you a ride home?

Kit: Why? So you can beg at me and tell me how sorry your ass is? Please. Give me a break.

Angus says he just wants to talk to her, but Kit wants to holler:

Kit: [to the other employees] Hey, everybody! Stop what you’re doing. Just shut the f— up and listen, OK? The man wants to talk.

Angus: Uh. I’m sorry. I, uh, I’m an idiot. And I made a huge mistake.

Kit: Ya think?

Angus: And I know you hate me right now. And I don’t blame you. But I love you. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved in my entire life. And I’m gonna stick around, um, as long as I can, in the hopes that you’ll eventually forgive me. Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I’m stickin’.

Kit thanks everyone – everyone who’s not Angus – for their work and then shuffles out. The idle exit is her new art form.

OK, Angus, you’ve said your piece. I would wish you luck, but you’ve been “sticking” all along, like something oozy and stinky on the bottom of our shoes. I kinda wish you would dry up and fall off already.

Appreciating art – I don’t know anything about metalwork, so I don’t really know what Bette and Jodi are doing. Other than wearing coveralls, that is, which is definitely sexy.

They seem to be on much better terms now. Jodi says she saw a great piece of metal on the side of the road this morning, but Amy refused to stop to pick it up.

Bette: Philistine.

Jodi: [nods and smiles]

Bette: I was thinking about having a dinner party. I really want you to meet some of my friends.

This makes Jodi nervous, so Bette assures her it’s no big deal. That’s sweet. And it’s even sweeter when Jodi asks Bette to spend the night with her. Bette says, simply, “Love to.”

Bette tells Jodi she’s beautiful, and then promptly smears grease or paint or something on her face. I love goofy Bette. And laughter is the best kind of prelude to a kiss.

The perfect vision – Tina and Jenny are taking one more meeting, this time with Lawrence Bender. He says he was into lesbians way before the “new chic lesbian fad” – he has a 35 mm print of The Killing of Sister George. Well. That certainly proves something; I just don’t know what, exactly.

He invites them to sit down; they’re in a small theater. He begins his pitch: He doesn’t want just a “regular lesbian story,” because that’s been done a million times before.

Jenny: I don’t think it’s been done a million times.

Thank you, Jenny.

Anyway, it seems Lawrence’s life dream is this: to make a musical. He thinks Lez Girls is a musical.

Jenny: I love it.

Lawrence: Really?

Jenny: [shouting] I love it!

Jenny, I think this is the first time I’ve ever rewound you with glee. That was hilarious! You’re such a spaz when you’re excited.

Lawrence even has the perfect performers in mind. He tells them to sit back and enjoy: “There’s this woman who is extraordinary. I’ve been wanting to work with her for a long time, and I really think that I could make a marriage between the two of you.”

And there’s a drum roll and the curtain goes up – on Marina and her dancers, doing that number we saw at the beginning of the episode. It’s longer this time, and definitely fascinating. The Ditty Bops lend their wit and harmonies to “Le Cirque du Ferrer,” and I wonder where I am – but I’m very glad to be here. The lyrics are fab: “You’ll be shocked, amused, titillated and confused by the sultry Sapphic story of a certain group of friends.”

Marina gives Jenny a slight smile. Jenny rolls her eyes, but smiles too. Even Tina is digging it. What a crazy marriage that would be. Oh, I meant Jenny and Marina, not Jenny and Tina. I think so, anyway.

Making their mark – Alice and Shane are hanging out on that Boss billboard. They decide to enhance it a little. They spray paint the hell out of it, adding facial hair and a unibrow and obscenities of every sort. It’s fun, but it goes on way too long. Still, this is probably the central friendship of the show – if anyone is “Lez Girls,” it’s these two. Their fun is our fun, and it’s been way too long.

NEXT WEEK ON THE L WORD: Helena goes to the track; Max goes home; Jodi bares her soul.

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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