That Jetta car commercial with the repetitive beats starts reinforcing the masturbatory tone the entire evening has taken. Then Sarah Michelle Gellar comes on and ruins the whole thing. Jennifer Love Hewitt finishes the commercial break like a bucket of ice water in my lap.
Ally is whining to Renee about the kiss. After the second kiss Ling just walked out of the room. Billy rings the doorbell. He's not there about the hot girl-on-girl action but rather to talk to Renee. Renee babies so hard I have a hard time hearing what she says. Through all the whispering and the pursing of the lips I know she said something and then this Hitchcock/Bruckheimer music started up, so I guess she told him off but good. "Okay, what did I miss?" asks Ally. "Yeah, me too?" I ask.
Shot of pond. Strummy piano music. Exterior of a building. John and Fish are sitting on a couch sharing some breath spray. Neither got sweet loving the night before. Nelle just went to sleep and Ling has developed a callous on her knee. John decides to be the new "John Cage." There's a bad fart joke that I'm not going to share.
Back in The Floozy's Court, Dee Wallace Stone is giving her closing arguments. "Why should women have to work in that kind of climate, with men sniggering like schoolboys? Why should they have to go to an office every day to watch her strut around like some centerfold layout queen for the collective Neanderthal jolly? I was held hostage by a rabid Saint Bernard, people! I don't have to take this shit from you! I shot the hell out of that mangy mutt and I can do the same to each and every one of you!" It really doesn't matter what she said since she wasn't half-naked, licking her lips, sticking out her chest or trying to kiss another woman. She asks if it's such an imposition on this woman to ask her to dress a little more modestly. "No one asked me to put a shirt over my clinging wet tee-shirt when I was sweating to death in the back of my car when the rabid dog held me hostage, but if they had I gladly would have." Billy goes in for the kill by saying it's not the employer's fault the girl is sexy. He calls The Floozy "a woman who looks like that." I can't tell what The Floozy is thinking because the Botox has frozen her face in such a way it always looks like she's thinking, "Did I leave the iron on?" Renee gives a monologue straight out of A Chorus Line about going to a musical and seeing the powerful sexy woman sing some sort of piece that commanded the entire audience's attention. Yes, everything was beautiful at the ballet. The ballet! The ballet! The Floozy wonders if she remembered to take her keys out of her other purse. Renee says this woman had the gift of sex appeal and that she shouldn't be judged harshly for it. I would argue with Renee that if this woman was in a successful musical and was good at it, she probably had the gift of song, dance, acting ability, a director, costume designer, seamstress, lighting designer, stage manager, make-up person, composer, lyricist, playwright, musicians, supporting actors, a good audience, lights, microphones, good acoustics, a great dance partner and a wonderful vocal coach, but I couldn't stop staring at Renee's second pair of butt cheeks. Renee says that "some people" tell her she should be ashamed of the way she dresses. She says some people say using her sexuality sets the feminist movement backwards. "That's ridiculous," Renee says, and I guess rests on that because that's the end of the scene. What kind of argument is that? "That's ridiculous"? I'm guessing Renee didn't win too many L/D debates in high school.