The Demon Cam On Crack jostles us several blocks over and several hours later, where we smack into the neon sign outside P3. Down on the stage, this Michelle Branch person lip-synchs badly to one of her "songs." You're supposed to actually sing while they're filming you, you shrew, otherwise you blow the illusion when the muscles in your throat don't move. Not that I really care, because I get to fast-forward through this entire sequence, which, you should know, takes up a full minute of my tape. And look at that -- here's the Dolt toting a champagne bucket over to the Glamorous Ladies' usual table. Piper and Phoebe are hosting a small celebration in honor of Darryl's promotion to lieutenant. Piper, poor dear, has been thrust into Eilish's crack-addled stab at "expectant mother eveningwear" -- a glossy silver-and-black top that seems to have been stapled together from strips of Barbarella's shower curtain. The Fun Bags, meanwhile, threaten to pop from a comparatively sedate floral corset with periwinkle piping around the cups. The winner of tonight's P3 fashion contest -- in the sense of, "No, really! She looks good!" -- is Darryl's wife, clad as she is in a simple, rust-colored halter with a tastefully low-key necklace beneath a sleek cap of sixties-style pixie hair. And allow me to take a moment to go, "Darryl's wife! It's Darryl's wife! Woo! And a hoo! I'd wonder where the hell you've been the last four and a half years, but I'm too excited to see you! Whee! Mrs. Darryl! Sorry you don't get a single line of dialogue, or even a name, for that matter, but hooray! It's Mrs. Darryl! Yeah!"