Ally McBeal
Do You Wanna Dance?

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Do You Wanna Dance?

Renee is in the kitchen hearing strange squeals from the direction of Ally's bedroom. She bursts in and finds Ally alone on her bed. "You just had sex!" she accuses. She starts searching the closet for Ally's partner while Ally says that no one's there. "Oh!" says Renee. "Anybody I know in mind?" No one's there but the computer. Ally closes the laptop, claiming it's her journal. Renee tells her to "turn back a few pages," to the part where Ally used to tell Renee everything. Ally admits that she just had "computer sex." And "it was amazing." Retch! She has completely ruined any frisky cyber-recreation I might have considered in the future. The thought of getting online and then accidentally getting off to words typed by someone like Ally McBeal is enough make me fling my keyboard out the window.

Ally explains that she's been e-mailing back and forth with "this guy" for four months and that they only now started "talking sex." Renee says he might have two heads and a criminal record. Then she says "Internet relationship" all snidely. Ally thinks he must be married and that's why he hasn't offered to meet her. She claims it's "just a fantasy" but Renee points out that with Ally, fantasy IS reality. Ha. It's good to see that Renee can be gone for weeks at a time but still have a handle on the situation. Then Renee says the guy must be a priest. "Priests love to go online!" she coos. Well, that's a new one on me. Is there a website? Padrenet.com, maybe? Ally says she'd meet this guy in real life "in a second" if she could. She resolves to do so.

At the Fish & Cage morning meeting, we establish that the Case O' the Week is Bender vs. Hanks. Some guy's suing his best friend for sleeping with said guy's wife. Okay, whatever. Mark and Ally are representing the plaintiff. Richard makes some sex joke and Nelle asks if they can move it along because she has a busy day ahead. John jumps on this: "Oh, well, let's by all means speed it up. Frosty the Snow Girl has plans." John, please leave the sarcasm to those skilled in its utilization, all right? "What did you call me?" asks Nelle. John repeats the silly epithet. Ling's sopping it up with a biscuit. "You shouldn't get to talk to me like that just because you're senior pipsqueak - I mean partner," Nelle totally burns him - not. Where do these people learn how to rank? We were saying better stuff than that in my third-grade classroom. Ally butts in to scold. Nelle segues into asking why she hasn't been made partner. I can answer that one. It's because she's wearing about five yards of polka-dot chiffon around her neck with a hug, red, FAKE FLOWER tucked into her collar. I guess David E. Kelley needed to humiliate her sartorically in attempt to make us sympathize with lame-o John. Well, it was worth a try. When you can't rely on good writing, take it to the wardrobe. "Over my dead body, which would still be a few degrees warmer than yours, you rich-bitch, elitist Ice Queen," John says. Ling looks orgasmic and Ally grimaces as the oboe sort of titters. Nelle and John trade phony smiles. Um... is this supposed to be funny? It's not. I can't even imagine working in an environment where supervisors could call employees such things. Sexual harassment, much? You'd think Fish and Cage would know better. I want to say that if I'd been sitting at that table, I would have gotten up and slapped John across the face and then given notice. Upon further reflection, though, I think it'd make more sense to get up, walk offstage, spit on Mr. Kelley, and THEN give notice.

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Ally McBeal

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