Tonight's opening travelogue is accompanied by a ukulele version of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" that was featured prominently in several episodes of Young Americans a few years back, which only serves to remind me of a certain product-placed beverage and poor Pamie's summer-long bout of gender dysphoria. And Verve. Can't forget the Verve. Hey, did you see him on last week's Law & Order: SVU? He had sex with John Ritter's son. John Ritter's son, people. I mean, how desperate and/or skeevy do you have to be to bone the fruit of Jack Tripper's loins? And did you know that Ian Somerhalder and I share a birthday? Yep -- Sammy Davis Jr., Verve, and me. And Teri Hatcher and Kim Basinger, but we don't like to talk about them. Of course, Verve's ten years younger than I am, and...what's that? You want me to talk about the episode? Well, screw you. This episode sucks.
Sigh. Manor. Up in the kitchen, Auntie Phoebe unleashes a torrent of sick-making baby-talk upon The Percolated Infant. By way of response, The Doltine Cracker horks his pacifier into her face. Heh. Incidentally, because the gang on the boards has been overcome by The Done One's cuteness and is therefore incapable of concocting appropriately vicious and ugly nicknames for the kid, because "The Non-Asian/Asian Precious Done One Log" is far too much to type, and because I myself am otherwise drawing a blank, I'll be mixing up the three...what? Oh, yeah. Episode. Right. Over at the center island, Piper bobbles a piping-hot bottle of formula, screams for the husband, and receives no response, which leads to the following mini-rant: "Fricking ever-useless Elders! What is taking them so long?" And that, my friends, is a shout-out if ever I heard one. Meanwhile, Phoebe's received an amu-- Holy Mother of God! What the fuck is she wearing? Oh, sweet Jesus! From the waist up, she looked fine. I mean, yeah, the black sweater's cropped above her navel, and her hair's an unsightly mess, but we're used to that. It's those pants! They're skin-tight and riding so low, the waistband grazes both her beavage and her ass crack, and I, for one, never needed to know about that tattoo on her left butt cheek. God! DAMN! What the fuck is wrong with Alyssa Milano?