Opening travelogue, with testicle. And time-lapse photography of places that are not San Francisco, strangely enough. "This is your life, and today is all you got now," the testicle croons as the sun sets over the ocean to rise again over the Golden Gate Bridge, "and today is all you'll ever have. Are you who you want to be?" What business is it of yours, asshole? Go to hell. After they recycle that clip of pigeons flapping in slow motion past the Palace of Fine Arts, there's a brief montage of San Francisco in the early hours of the morning before we cut all the way over to Grand Central Station in New York City to begin a Koyaanisqatsi-esque sequence of shots covering the morning rush across North America, which includes sped-up bits of a light-rail station in Los Angeles and a Metro station in Washington before the camera shoots back over to San Francisco to super-speed through the streets, eventually cross-fading over to Prescott Street. Up in the Manor kitchen, Phoebe and Piper perform a human version of the earlier automotive choreography around the center island, with Phoebe mixing what seems to be quiche filling while Piper stirs a batter of some sort. As Phoebe crosses to dump the filling into a pie crust, she finds her way blocked by Dolta's suddenly appearing orb cloud. "Hey!" she snots. "You're breaking the flow!" Conflict! Dust her ass, Dolta. Please dust her worthless hag ass. Now! He doesn't listen to me. He never does. Sigh. Piper casually wonders where Dolta's been all this time. He admits he's been hanging with the other Avatars, "making sure everything went all right." "Why wouldn't it be?" Piper asks, mildly enough. "You tell me," Dolta non-answers. "How you guys doing?" Phoebe babbles something about how abso-frigging-lutely fan-tastic! she feels, but that's not important. What is important is that, even though we just watched her pour the entire bowl of quiche guts into the pie crust, Alyssa Milano now lifts an entirely empty crust from the counter and shoves the damn, stupid thing into the oven. Gah. HATE.
Anyway, the ladies tag-team-blather approvingly about the brave new world for a bit until Piper reveals they're throwing a party in honor of their new existence, much to Dolta's surprise. He thought they'd want to ensure that everything was working properly before beginning the celebrations. While the gals admit they've yet to witness The Change's effects on "the real world," they nonetheless enthusiastically agree that The Change "works better than expected," so what's the big deal? "Besides," Phoebe adds, "we have a lot of catching up to do, especially with our friends." What friends? You women haven't hung out with people you weren't fucking at the time in the last seven years. Get over yourself, Phoebe. And shut up while you're at it. "I'm not sure I remember how to socialize with normal people," Piper frets, and there's that word. That word I loathe. And why wouldn't you remember how to socialize, Piper? You are a local nightclub impresario, after all.