On the legal front, Andy Moffat and PlasticMan help a dying client sue the pharmaceutical company responsible for his cancer, while Anna and Riley are subjected to the whim and withering of two Delia's clones. Anyone who's surprised that they can't rise above level of the pre-teens' Hard Candy lipgloss and act their age, raise their hands. Andy Moffat suddenly morphs personalities -- changing from the self-confident, proud-to-be-gay man he was one short week ago to a stuttering, shrink-seeking housemate to people who suffer from selective amnesia as they struggle to remember who he is and how he got there. More non-sexual, non-tenion between PlasticMan and Anna but no one really cares. And once again, the guest star pulls off a far better performance than the regulars. He must've learned a lot on Party of Five.
Big kisses to Mr. "Akebono" Keckler for taking on the Herculean task of our taxes this week, and to the state of Massachusetts for not having a marriage penalty. What do you have to say about "liberals" in the state of MA now, Mr. Totalot? Also, you peeps on the forums, thanks for making me laugh -- now go post some more.
And now for the part of the night where we give up all sense of reality.
Our young esquires are getting ready for an evening out. Riley looks for her earrings, and Anna puts blush all over her nose. Andy Moffat walks through the living room and says, "Observation, Anna? The lip liner, maybe not so much," in a RuPaul Reiser voice. Anna, from the depths of a faux fur collar, whines, "Oh, good call." Yes, it is, because every gay man in the world is Kevyn Aucoin. Shaggy lives up to his gross-me-out-the-door reputation -- firmly established last episode -- by asking Riley if he can get one more wear out of his shirt. Riley smells the collar (the collar?) and tells him not if he wants to sit next to her. Cleverly disguising his superhero persona in black, PlasticMan comes down the stairs, asking if anyone's seen his keys. Cue Poitier to throw in a regional phrase: "Let's take BART -- there's going to be traffic after the concert." PlasticMan says he still needs to find his keys. Anna runs down the stairs into the sunken living room, throwing up her hands and exclaiming, "God, I should not be here!" She pulls a pile of books off the couch. PlasticMan suggests she could start paying rent. Anna says she needs to do some deposition summaries. Riley says, "No, uh-uh, not an option. We've been killing ourselves and tomorrow's Sunday -- we can work all day. You promised me we'd do this, dance, have fun, be stupid [I'd say they've already achieved one out of the three]!" Buttoning up a different and hopefully less ripe shirt, Shaggy says, "And Perfect Circle's only in town for a week so it's now or never!" (Actually, they were in Ohio, Michigan, and Wisconsin that week, but whatever.) "Screw responsibility!" Anna says, putting one fist in the air. They all cheer. Throughout this witty and endearing exchange, the Poor, Unloved, Forgotten, and, of course, Gay Andy Moffat sits in the corner with a book, clearly not partaking of the happy-go-lucky soup. PlasticMan asks Anna if she's going to be cold in her sleeveless get-up. "And your point is?" she asks. PUFG Andy Moffat stands in the doorway of the living room, clearly wanting to say something. I wait in great suspense as he hesitates, looks down, and goes upstairs. Shaggy holds up a clock and informs the group they have an hour to kill. "Nap?" he suggests. Anna says, "One hour, I can do one summary." The group looks at her. "What? I'm multi-tasking!" she says. Riley kisses her smelly boyfriend and tells him to set the alarm. Can we all see where this is going? Yes? Then I don't have to recap it anymore. And then I'd be fired. (Sigh.) Okay, so they all -- yes, even Multi-Tasking Anna -- fall asleep, and when the alarm rings, Riley slams it off without waking up as a radio informs us that all the Perfect Circle shows are sold out in the Bay Area. Those poor overworked lawyers -- now they're going to miss their concert. I rush out to conduct an orchestra of "awww!"
PlasticMan arrives in his Gattaca-decor office (what's with the sudden blues-and-greys motif, anyway?), and the first thing he sees when he steps off the elevator is Anna. Well, if we're aiming for perfect accuracy, the first thing he sees is Anna's butt. His smile becomes more of an Elvis Presleyan leer as he keeps his eyes on said glutes. She turns and looks at him; he looks away. She stares at him; he looks up. She looks down; he walks away. Oh, the love, the passion, the heartache, the barely restrained vomiting. Anna walks into the office kitchenette and holds up the coffee pot. "Great, people leave an eighth-inch of black crap at the bottom so they don't have to make another pot. Bastards!" she whines. Riley asks if she's mad or frustrated. "Frustrated," Anna tells her. "Work or sex-related?" Riley asks. "I hate you," Anna whines. "Ah, sex-related," Riley-The-All-Knowing says all-knowingly. A senior associate comes over and says snottily, "Well, we could talk about our weekends and what movies we saw but I'm guessing you two haven't seen the inside of a theater since Babe came out so what do you say we skip it?" What an ass. Riley and Anna just stand there, so Senior Ass continues, "I need your help on the dot-com thing." "What dot-com thing?" Riley and Anna say in unison. Senior Ass tells them it's copyright infringement and he needs them to draft a complaint for a T.R.O. "Wait, an actual case?" Anna asks. Senior Ass hands over some paperwork and says that he'll put in a good word with Hoberman for them. "T.R.O.? Dead brain cell," Riley says after Senior Ass leaves. "Temporary --" Anna prompts. "Restraining order," Riley finishes, "God!" You just took the words right out of my mouth, babe.