....over to Mike's. Where she hems, she haws, she blathers, she yammers, and finally she's about to ask him out when Edie saunters out into the doorway with both a beer and a creepily stretched-out face. She explains that she accidentally made "too much ambrosia," so she brought some over to Mike. So Susan retaliates by asking if he can come over and fix her clog. Oh, SUSAN. Susan! You don't have a clog! What are you doing? And yet, Mike says he'll come over to fix this nonexistent clog. "Now? You have company," she says. "I don't mind," Edie drawls, smiling widely because she knows Susan is a big inept liar. Mike tells her to just give him a mo to get his tools -- tee hee, I said "tool" -- and he'll be right over.
So Susan races across the street and sacrifices Julie's Trojan horse to the God of the Pipes. Not paying attention, of course, to the rampant symbolism: namely, that Mike, like the Trojan Horse, is something of an unexpected gift, and that she might not be super-happy with what she finds inside. This lesson in symbolism was brought to you by Mr. Moran's ninth-grade English class, 1989.
Anyway, Mike comes over and digs the gunk out, and Susan blames Julie for the enormous wad of wood -- tee hee, I said "wood" -- in her pipes. Tee hee. "Kids, you know," she says. From the living room, Julie shoots her mother a dirty look. Susan gives her the old "I'm sorry!!" face.
Cut to the Saddle Ranch, which is actually a bar on Sunset, like I am so sure that KimberBree would go somewhere with bull riding. And yet she has. The entire Van de Kamp family looks crabby until Rex sends the kids off to play videogames, and then only KimberBree looks cranky, while Rex looks beaten. Sad. Downtrodden. Like a man who cries after sex. KimberBree chatters that she knows he thinks she's peevish about having to eat in a restaurant like this, but that she knows they wanted a change, and she's okay with that. "Something fun! I get it!" she says, absentmindedly cleaning her steak knife with her napkin. "You probably will want something healthier tomorrow night," she adds. Rex agrees -- if by "something healthier tomorrow night," you mean "a divorce." He can't live like this, he yelps. KimberBree looks alarmed, but is saved from having to respond to this when the waiter swings by and tells them to go crazy at the salad bar. "I'll go get your salad," KimberBree offers, and takes Rex's plate. Rex's mouth hangs open.