Desperate Housewives
The Miracle Song

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The Miracle Song

Mini-credits! Oh, it's going to be a jam-packed night. Hang on to your stockings. With care!

Said credits drop us into a Christmas-decoration montage. One by one, all the Ladies unload their box of angels and lights and mysterious plastic plant-life. Bree's box of stuff is labeled with a neat P-Touched label that reads "Christmas." The Scavo's box says "Xmas" in sloppy magic marker, out of which Tom pulls out a huge knot of big-bulb-style lights. Gabby box says "Holiday stuff," and it holds a big fake fir wreath. Edie's box reads "WINTER CRAP"; she unpacks a dusty nativity scene. Susan's box has just a drawing of a tree on it (you may recall that she's supposed to be an illustrator). She pulls out some fake mistletoe and makes Ian come french her, and they moan and coo grossly, like they're in love or whatever. Ian asks her if she's free to meet his parents for dinner Saturday. Oh, and also, since they'll be too tired for a restaurant -- they're only in town for a four-hour layover -- could she maybe host the dinner at her house? And do all the cooking? Susan confronts him with her terrible secret: she's a deadly bad cook. Ian: "Well, my parents certainly won't be expecting a gourmet meal." (Though for some strange British reason, he says it like "gooer-may.") Susan: "Will they be expecting stomach cramps? Acid reflux? Night sweats?" Ian laughs, but Susan just gives him the thousand-yard stare of the not-at-all-joking. Ian: "They're just very old-fashioned, heart-and-home types, and they might wonder why you didn't make the effort." Pushover Susan pulls a miserable face but still agrees to "give it a shot." Ian: "Nothing elaborate, just a simple roast, and something appropriate to go with it." Susan: "Right! Like an ambulance." And the "Worst Plan Ever" music rollicks us into the next scene. God, has Ian met Susan? If he's really worried about impressing his parents, then he should hire a fleet of chefs to do all the cooking for her. Or at the very least offer to help peel the carrots. As it stands, this set-up just seems sexist, dumb, and doomed.

Gabby and Vern are getting the Snowflakes ready for the big competition. An awkward girl named "Amy" is doing an ungainly hoof up the runway, and Gabby is trying to get her to "glide." Out of the corner of her mouth, to Vern: "If she were a horse, we'd have to shoot her." Vern ventrilo-whispers, "Poor thing, she tries so hard." Yeah, nonetheless, Gabby thinks they should "dump her" -- "pageant consultants are judged on their roster," and Amy is making them look bad. Vern reminds Gabby to be nice, regarding the fact that Amy's mom died just last year. And yet Gabby argues that Amy is taking up time that would be better spent on "Sherrie," this attractive little girl who I call total bullshit on because she was totally not a part of last week's class. Huh? Gabby bossy-bosses, Vern haws and hems. (Wasn't this supposed to be his business?) Gabby screams at Amy, who is off-screen, "Amy! Little Miss Snowflake does NOT scratch down there!" Gabby looks at Vern pointedly. Vern: "Then again, her mother did die a year ago, how long is she going to milk it?" They agree to break the news to Amy's dad together.

Bree brings a breakfast tray into Gloria's room. Gloria, engrossed in watching home movies, absently tells her she'll "pick through it later." Why is Gloria still staying there if Ian's been given the heave-ho? Certainly she would be the very first thing I threw out on the lawn, even before his aprons and rubber cleaning gloves. Bree, with forced cheer, comments about how it sure is "fun" to relive old times (re: the home movies). Gloria: "Well, it's one way to kill time while you're waiting for death." Much like this storyline! Gloria, her hair looking both completely fake yet authentically greasy, wonders if Bree's started in with the divorce proceedings ("I think you're a good Christian woman and you deserve better than my son"). Bree: "It's not that easy, I love him." Gloria: "You'll get over it. I did." Bree leaves in disgust. Gloria, with a nostalgic gleam in her eye, returns to her movie. We see her and Alma decorating a Christmas tree, having a gay old time, laughing and blowing kisses at the camera, while a sullen Orson stands off to the side, looking like the worst case of adult bershon there ever was. Hey, who's filming the home movie, exactly?

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Desperate Housewives

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