White-picket-fence blur over to Gabby, who is wearing a black velvet dress encrusted with eight million sparklies, looking very "Russian ice dancer." She's examining herself critically in the mirror while her personal shopper, Verne, announces that he's got "some fabulous news." Gabby: "I hope it's more fabulous than this dress. I look like something Ike Turner would hit." Spousal abuse is comedic gold. It turns out that Verne is leaving his job to start a new business. He hands her a card. Gabby, reading, "'Beauty by Verne'? You're opening a salon? God, could you get any gayer?" Verne: "It's a consulting firm for beauty pageant contestants." Gabby: "And the answer is 'yes.'" Verne, incidentally, is played by Alec Mapa, yet another Roseanne alum. And the "Roseanne As Desperate Gateway Drug" conspiracy theory thickens! Verne is actually coaching girls for the "Miss Snowflake pageant" -- maybe Gabby could come down and give the young ladies a few "pointers"? Gabby scoffs, citing her work "walking the catwalks of Milan" as evidence of her above-all-that-ness. Verne calls her a "bitch," and not just the PMS kind: she's been a big crab for months now, and no woman cycles that long. Gabby: "Stop tracking my cycle. I told you, it freaks me out." Overly menstrual-focused men are creepy: I once had a hippie tell me, with a serene smile, that he thought a woman's moon time was like a beautiful flower that blooms every month, and thus should be celebrated, not bemoaned. And then I punched him right in his hacky sack. Then there are those guys who chart your period just so they know what time of the month they get to dismiss your opinions and emotions, which just makes you want to smash their faces in. Especially if you're pre-menstrual. Of course, you don't want a guy to be squeamish, either. Men who faint at the sight of a tampon rolling out of your purse are just as unforgivable as moon-charting hippies. Dude, put the "men" in "menstruation" and go buy me a box of supers! Dating me sure is fun. Okay, so, Gabby: she admits that she has been a little off lately, probably due to the fact that her divorce from Carlos went through today. Vern clucks and sighs sympathetically and also gayly, and the chirpy "Love Kills, Love Stinks, Love Will Tear Us Apart" background music swells. Verne declares that Gabby needs a project. Like, for instance, helping out those Snowflake girls? Gabby finally caves, but only if Verne gives her the sparkly Tina Turner dress she hates. Done!