P3. Raige ambles over to Phoebe and Piper at the bar, apologizing for getting "tied up." "Where," Piper smirks, "at [Castle Montanague]?" "Get your mind out of the gutter," Raige chides. "Hey," Phoebe snorts, "you're the one who orbs home to find lingerie." "Two times!" Raige protests. "I did that two times." "It's the only time we ever get to see you," Piper remarks. Raige admits that she has been slamming the slampiece quite often lately, leading Piper to remind her that dark demonic forces tend to take advantage of them when they're separated. "I just really don't want to think of us living together in fifty years," Raige whines. "Nah," Piper smiles. "Twenty, thirty years tops." If your psychotic son has anything to do with it, you'll all be toast the first time you yell at him for breaking curfew, honey, so you might want to revise that answer downwards a bit. Phoebe butts in to propose the establishment of an Asian branch of the Manor in Hong Kong so she'd be able to see Chronic more often. Because Phoebe is a selfish hag. Piper rolls her eyes and snarks, "How do you say 'dream on' in Chinese?" Phoebe instantly babbles an answer that sounds like "Nietzsche Chow, man." Ah, yes. Nietzsche Chow, for the existentialist, Beat-poet puppy in your life -- from Purina! Oh, shut up. This is the tenth Charmed recap in a row for yours truly, and I just found out the sadists at the WB have scheduled the eleventh episode for December 14th. The bastards are trying to kill me and I'll be missing the second part of Angels in America for this shit. Also, please don't get snotty by reminding me that Aaron frequently churns out thirteen brilliant recaps in a row for his shows, because I'll simply remind you that Aaron's shows are Milano-free. If he had to put up with The Continuing Adventures Of Chronic And Cooter every week for three months in a row, he'd be driving nails into his forehead with a sneaker, too.
Ahem. Innyway. Piper cocks a brow and allows a sardonic "impressive" at Phoebe's masterful command of the Chinese language. Phoebe giggles and changes the topic, wondering how Piper's been faring on the romance front as of late. "You and Greg?" she prompts, elbowing her reticent sister. "Put out any fires lately?" "Wait a minute," Raige eyebrows, "you're going out with a fireman?" "Proof positive you haven't been around much," Piper shoots back. Phoebe exposits for the benefit of Raige and the audience that Piper and this Greg person have been seeing each other for three weeks already, and Piper has yet to slide down his pole. Or something like that. My version's dirtier than hers, and when's the last time that happened? Piper claims she's a more than a bit hesitant to hop into the sack with a new guy after "sleeping with an angel for three years," and pardon me while I take a moment to shut my laptop so I can whack it against my head over and over again in an attempt to beat that horrific image out of my brain. Ah. It's gone. Good. Phoebe then references Piper's unfortunate habit of "freezing [the Dolt] during all the good parts," and leers that Piper should do the same with her fireman. Shut up, you disgusting pig. "I'm not freezing Greg," Piper states flatly. "I'm so nervous, I'd probably blow him up." Raige and Phoebe titter at this, because they're eleven years old. "Gutter!" Piper howls.
As Piper's sisters snicker wickedly, her younger son lopes over with, "What are you guys talking about?" "Stuff," Phoebe lies, and trust me, doll: If there's one topic Big Gay Chris is entirely comfortable discussing, it's blowjobs. Ooops. Did I just say that out loud? The gals invite Big Chris to join them for cocktails, but he declines, citing the prep work he has yet to finish for the next vanquish. "I didn't come here to relax," he reminds them, and with that, he heads back towards the club's office. "That is one bitchy Whitelighter," Phoebe mugs, like, you're one to talk, trash. By the way, some of you might be interested to learn that the scripted version of that observation was "lonely Whitelighter." Why the change? Duh. You have been watching the show this season, right? In any event, Raige suggests Piper have a word with "the guilt machine," so my mother-in-law rolls her eyes and slides off her barstool to trail after my husband.