In court, Mr. Mackey testifies that Ms. Albright fired him because she wanted to purge her offices of "sexual currents" by ridding them of all the male employees. Jackson asks Mr. Mackey how many times he thinks about sex per day. Renee objects strenuously, but then Jackson's smile and the sound effects that accompany it cause her to change her pretty little mind. Ling watches this without a smile on her face. She never smiles, though, so it doesn't mean much. Jackson asks Mr. Mackey if he's ever fantasized about having sex with Ms. Albright, or with Renee. Then he has Ling stand up and asks Mr. Mackey whether he would fantasize about her. Ling is wearing all white again. This time, she sports a tuxedo-ish shirt that's slit from the collar to the waist. As far as I can tell, she isn't wearing any undergarments beneath the shirt. Maybe she has on one of those weird crossover bras from Fredericks, though. Mr. Mackey admits that any man would fantasize about the three women, proving the point Jackson's trying to make. Ling growls at Jackson, but we're not supposed to empathize with her, since she's wearing the inappropriate shirt and he's doing so well on the case and all.
Elaine sits in Ally's office and vents about Mark. Ally says something stale about communication in relationships, as if she's one to give advice. Elaine explains that she doesn't communicate -- she exchanges quick apologies and then has sex. She doesn't want to do that this time, though. When she's not loving a man, it's only because she's hating him. She actually prefers hating the men, because there's more dignity in it, she says. Upset, Elaine tells Ally to go call Larry and leave her alone. Ally sarcastically dismisses her, like the true-blue friend she is. While watching this scene, I suddenly feel remorse. Throughout the past two seasons, I've made fun of Ally for having messy hair. Then, recently, I re-entered the work force full-time, myself. I got an office job that involved quirky co-workers and an unusual restroom. I started wearing polyester clothing, some pieces of which had prints reminiscent of the seventies. I have to admit, even, that I might have been the slightest bit neurotic a couple of times in the past few months. All this happened, and it made me think. Could it be...could it possibly be that there's a little bit of Ally McBeal in me? I thought about it for a few minutes, but then I started keeping a hairbrush in my desk and now everything's okay. Besides...I'm not a violent schizophrenic and my co-workers like me. So, no, there's no Ally in me, after all.