Desperate Housewives
Nice She Ain't

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Nice She Ain't

Tutor time. Julie's room features an odd assortment of items, and they really run the gimlet. She's got her initials hanging on the wall, all done up in pink and green, which is something a ten-year-old would have. And then she's got one of those Cost Plus jointed wood frog puppet things balanced on her headboard, very "fifty-something docent." Meanwhile, Julie's bed is a very, very small twin, about the length and width of a chastity belt. Austin's assignment is to write about Othello, but he's not really that interested in working. He's much more interested in the cheapo beer he brought over. How do you spell "classy"? With a can. When Julie puts up a stink, Austin launches into some sob story, claiming the reason he got kicked out of his house was that he cracked his mom's boyfriend over the head with a chair when the guy started hitting her, and because she didn't want to be alone, she pressed charges against Austin, not the boyfriend. So Austin took off. Julie, whose heart is made of marshmallow and rainbows, totally falls for the story, so she tells him to go rest on her bed while she gets his paper started for him. Boy, she fell for that far too easily for such a supposedly smart girl. Though maybe she just has a blind spot for wounded-bird boys? That's the way the whole Zana situation got started, right?

Okay, who didn't see this coming? Gabby retaliates for Carlos's little date with Bubbles by lining up a date of her own, but she really goes for the jugular: she picks "Phil Lopez," Carlos's business rival and two-time winner of the "Latino Businessman Of The Year Award." Carlos is suitably enraged: "Phil Lopez? I had no idea you hated me that much." Gabby, smiling: "Well, now you know." Gabby and Phil grab some martinis and head out to the hot tub.

COMMECIALS. Ellen does some mediating on expensive socks, Folger's has a dubious new "gourmet" coffee on the market, and Volkswagen has made a "v-dub" that doubles as an amp for rockers just like John Mayer (whose guitar-playing talents, according to beau Marco, are "sick"). Buying a car that comes with a guitar? Something about that feels sort of "future gone crazy," like one of the faux-mercials in Robocop. Right?

Casa Little Caesar. Tom is all excited to show Lynette some potential locations for his restaurant, but like the loving, supportive wife she isn't, Lynette takes this opportunity to sit down and reality-check Tom down a few notches. She starts by pitching him her version of his dream: he starts out with Italian-themed catering; and then ("five short years later"), after he builds up a following, he spins it off into very his own restaurant. How about that? Actually, that's not such a bad idea. ["Totally -- no start-up business is more likely to fail spectacularly than a restaurant. Even ones that do end up succeeding are expected to lose money for the first few years." -- Wing Chun] Though I'm not sure how much call there is for pizza in catering, and I think that's the thrust of Tom's whole plan. Restaurant-savvy people on the boards also suggested that taking a job at an actual working restaurant might have been another smart, sensible way to find out how the business works. Tom, on Lynette's catering suggestion: "But that's not my dream." Lynette snaps and tells him flat-out that she thinks he's going to "fail" with his dream, as it stands. And she's just not comfortable "gambling with [their] life-savings." Life savings, what life savings? Didn't Snora clean them out at the end of last season? Lynette cites ye olde statistic that "90% of restaurants tank in their first year." ["See?" -- Wing Chun] Tom, passionately: "Which means that 10% make it. Why don't you ever think that I would be one of them?" And the "Doomed Marriage" music flails.

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Desperate Housewives

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