What a week. Two days in a row this week I reached blindly for a shirt to wear for work and two days in a row I wore a shirt to work that had old coffee or mustard stains. How impressive is it wearing clothing for the poor to someplace someone pays you to be? Anyway, I blame my sloppy appearance on my bad back, and my bad back can be blamed on my new television; in short, television has to create some kind of makeover show, or even an extreme one, to level the imbalance, and also it should remind me to do my dry cleaning once a week like my mother does. But my mother isn't a Cylon so it would make it that much better if television did it. Speaking of...

We open to an exterior shot of the Rainbow Room, a place where rich people eat rainbows in honor of the stock market (Wikipedia). Frank and Lutz are headed for a night out impersonating white foreigners. Liz counts out, saying she has a cousin in town. Jenna is getting drinks with a recently divorced camera guy. "You in?" Liz doesn't feel well. "Liz Lemon?" It's Tracy. He's going to an animals-only strip club. "Interested?" She's not. I very much am. Lemon tells Tracy she has a date but afterwards picks up the phone to order a meatball sub, extra bread. Jack enters, perfectly holding a coffee mug Glengarry-style, and runs down Lemon's night sight unseen: meatball sub, Nyquil, TiVo'd Top Chef, a little of Mrs. Bonnie Raitt... Liz denies it, but Jack spills the beans that Casey is getting voted off tonight (not really, she just came in third). Liz: "You monster. Why are you like this?" Jack raises his mug. He's got a watch that costs more than your car.

Some guy who almost got on Supernatural is handing out coffee in the writer's room. Jenna refers to him as veal. I Google "young meat" out of curiosity and about 3 entries down from the IMDB page for Fresh Young Meat 8 I stumble upon this web site in New Zealand that awards a "Young Butcher of the Year" trophy to whom I imagine would be the hottest male porn performer in New Zealand. No wait, it really goes to a butcher -- Scott Reid this year. He even gets a trophy like at the Masters, which, as seen on the site, he looks at like it's a piece of meat or his mother's approval. "What kind of emotions is this young man feeling right now?" whispers Jim Nantz. Good question, Jim. Sausage?

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