Elyse's hair is done like clockwork. No, no, not like clockwork. More like A Clockwork Orange. She digs her wide eyes and her choppy hairstyle but not the color, but it's pretty dark at the Korova Milkbar anyway and you'll hardly be able to see that it's red until she's outside tap-dancing to "Singin' In The Rain" with Pete, Georgie, and Dim before they go in for a few lashings of the old ultraviolence.

Ebony finds the whole experience "frustrating," noting that "not everyone can cut your hair," adding that she plans on growing it back. The hell? Is she auditioning for the lead in The Emperor's New Haircut? Bald before. Bald now. It's like talking about a haircut with George Costanza. Shannon, meanwhile, had her hair straightened and looks exactly like Nicole. Again! C'mon, you guys. Seriously? A little help? Kesse is "pleased" with her new look, and Adrianne tells us that, though the installation of the hairweave was "painful," she asserts the fact that "I don't like to tell anyone that I'm going through pain." This totally reminds me of an interview I saw a few weeks ago where John McCain said that we'd pretty much lost the true meaning of the word "courageous" in this country.

"A diva is not a bad thing," Robin tells us. "I think a diva is a lady." And I think a turnip is the Prime Minister of Italy. Why not just say it and thus make it so! It's like playing with a four-year-old, where you go from running in a haunted forest to riding on a magic carpet to jumping on pillows to crying and back, inside of a minute. A diva is not a lady. A diva is a world-class bitch, at least on this show. Robin tells us that her new hair color is "not for [her]," noting that it's "the hair color from H-E-double-hockey sticks." Oh, you're twenty-seven. Just say "hell." It's where you're from, too, after all. Okay, who's up for a fun game of "Analogies"? Okay, I'll go first: diva is to turnip as lady is to ___________. I'll give you a hint: pizza.

Jay gives the girls a comprehensive makeup lesson, and Ebony shares with him that she is a makeup artist as well as a model, a delightful foreshadow that falls over Ebony and renders the lighting in that room just terrible. "The makeup artist is your last front to the world," Jay tells them, trumping up his actual job of "brush monkey" so much that he throws off the curve for the importance of all things great and small in the universe. After I finish cramming a box of Band-Aids that were running around my bathroom screaming, "We cure cancer! We cure cancer!" back into the medicine cabinet (damn you, Jay!), we return to find the ladies escaping from the Lepine Gallery, Elyse's hair perfectly tended to, scrunched underneath a dowdy chapeau.