COMMERCIAL: wait, what was that? David Blaine is shackling himself to a Target logo and suspending himself up in outer space or whatever? I don't get it, is he making fun of himself? Like, is this ad a hilarious send-up of all his usual sad, complicated tricks? Oh. It looks like it's actually real. From the press release: "Last week Target presented Blaine with the following challenge: escape from shackles while dangling five stories above Times Square in time for the Target 2-Day Sale. If he succeeds he will escort 100 deserving children, as identified by The Salvation Army, on a magical shopping trip at Target." I'm concerned that David Blaine may actually now think he's Willy Wonka. "Deserving children"? "Magical shopping trip"? Except the kids only get $500 each. And how much did they spend on advertising this thing? Oh, David Blaine, why must this be so complicated? Can't you just write a check to the Salvation Army and call it a day? Please. Go back to the sidewalk card tricks. Just go.
And we're back! It's daytime, and Lynette has all four Ps gathered around her, watching television. Is this her pedophile-foiling plan? Just keeping the kids in doors at all times? Tom leaves to go help Mike install a "shower bar."
Mike's house of men. Carlos and Mike are riveted by the game, which is airing on Mike's gigantic flat-screen television. Carlos calls Tom "T Rex," and they slap hands and inquire into the status of each other's balls, specifically how they're hanging. Apparently, Tom's are hanging "low and lazy." Now, is he using balls as a metaphor for his entire state of mind here, which is "lazy"? Or is he literally calling his balls "lazy," as in a "lazy eye," as in sort of drifting? Balls are so freaky. Other body parts that freak me out: the roof of the mouth, and the belly button. Perhaps I should mention that it's actually 3:30 AM right now, and I'm typing at you in a sleep-deprived roar, desperately trying to get his recap done before I leave town. But...the belly button? It's like this huge puncture scar right in the middle of our smooth bellies! This terrible interruption! But I guess balls are worse. They're like sea anemones, expanding and contracting and sort of...roaming. Or so I've heard. From your mother!
Gabby comes home from another shopping trip to find Vern waiting on her doorstep. She's excited to talk to him about the next class: she just bought each girl her own makeup kit, coordinated to her skin tone: "I also got Melina some wax. I know she's only eleven, but those Greek genes are going to kick in any day now." But Vern isn't there to talk about pre-teen waxing (if only!). No, he's there to report that all the girls' mothers now hate Gabby because their girls have developed terrible vices since the pizza party. One's smoking, one's bulimic, and one asked her mom if she could throw a "Gomorrah party." Gabby admits that there may be a need for "damage control," but Vern says that it's too late: Gabby is banned from class. Gabby is crushed. Gabby is also wearing an amazing sort of Grecian top, backless with a halter and gold trim. Vern takes his leave: "See you at spin class!"