Celia asks Isabelle how to be “lesbionic” on “Weeds”


Weeds is a show you probably shouldn’t watch if you’re the type of person who doesn’t like to "go there," because, my darlings, this show not only lives there, it has redefined what "there" is — and that is why this show is so awesome.

Weeds is known for its flawed characters and for pushing those flaws to the limit, but every so often, a glimmer of humanity manages to shine through their dysfunctional exteriors, except in the case of Celia Hodes (Elizabeth Perkins), who stands out from the pack by having absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

The terminally bored Celia, whose life is now on the upswing after she hatched a plan to bundle pot with makeup at her job as a cosmetics saleswoman, is looking for an outlet. That outlet has presented itself as a sexually aggressive female admirer, cosmetic line owner Raylene Reynolds (Jamie Denbo), whose signature line is, “My nipples are hard, and my lady is wet because success turns me on!”

On this week’s episode, when Raylene finds out that Celia has been moving mountains of her "You’re Pretty" cosmetics line, she informs Celia that she is "wetter than a slaughterhouse floor" and proceeds to prove her point by grabbing Celia’s hand and shoving it where the sun don’t shine.

Celia, so far inexperienced in lady love, now finds herself in desperate need of advice on how to proceed, so she makes nicey-nice with her out teenage daughter Isabelle (Allie Grant), who she usually uses as a punching bag. Celia takes her out to a hair salon in order to extract information on the fine art of lesbian sex.

"Tell me a little about being lesbionic," Celia says to her horrified daughter.

Not recognizing — or rather, recognizing but ignoring — Isabelle’s obvious discomfort, she continues: "Was [kissing a girl] a good soft, like a puppy? Or was it a bad soft, like rotten fruit? Oh god. Oh! Am I going to have to get a strap-on?"


Later on, Celia and Raylene return from a day of shopping, whereupon they throw themselves at each other, salivating like rabid animals.

Then the ever-so-tactful Celia blurts out, "So, strap-on: How does that work?"

(Come on, Celia, don’t you know you’re supposed to save that for the second date?)

"Don’t worry honey. We’ll get to that," purrs Raylene as she sashays away, leaving Celia standing alone in the hallway with a confused expression on her face.

Here’s a hint, lady: It works by sticking it where you think you’re supposed to stick it. It’s not rocket science.

So there you have it. We might see Celia and Raylene romp around with penetrative sex toys, which I expect to be a revolting train wreck. I expect nothing less, or else Weeds will have failed in its mission of perfecting the art of deliciously twisted cringe humor.

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