Previously on girls club: David E. Kelley was working, broke his caps lock key, and exclaimed, "hey, that looks stylish! michelle! get in here and look at this! it's a whole youth thing, see? no caps! honey, come back! lookit! lookit!"
Okay, seriously: Previously on girls club: Giancarlo Esposito told Gretchen Mol that the district attorney called him, concerned that Gretchen was becoming "sexually infatuated" with her client. Wooo! Gretchen Mol denied it. Aww. A creepy boss-type authority figure guy fingered Jeannie's collarbones and told her she could "pick and choose some big trials" if she wanted...to blow him. Spelled out. In big neon letters. Led in with an oom-pah-pah band. It's just that subtle. Kathleen Robertson just stared at him, all cross-eyed. Oh wait, she always looks like that. Gretchen Mol's client was found dead, hanged, in his jail cell. Not a suicide, though; apparently it was an autoerotic sex act gone wrong. Gretchen Mol was all, whoa. Heavy. You know what this is? It's like The Practice crossed with Ally McBeal, but with crappier actors, less real drama, and even more implausible situations. In other words, stock David E. Kelley. Or in short, kill me now. The other one, Sarah, got in a snit with her boss because she wrote a legal memorandum too floridly. She needed to learn from Randa, who wrote her section of the brief with "economy." Sarah ran to Randa and demanded to know how their boss knew who wrote what. Then she called Randa a "bitch" and a "dyke," very loudly, to her face, right in the middle of the office. Sarah said, "Oh my god!" What, does she have Tourette's and a guilt complex about it? Then I get my bottle of Jack Daniel's and begin to finger it lovingly. Oh, Jack. I forgot how much I love you. How much I needed you. Wait, what? This show got canceled? Oh, great. Let's have a drink to celebrate.
Credits. Iiif yohare gho-iiin! To Saaaan Fraaahn-sisco! Bamp bamp! Be shuure to whaaare! Flowhars in yhour hhaair! Those girls sure like to work out. And do legal-type stuff. Work out! Legal stuff! Work out! Legal stuff! It's all a rich tapestry.
The three roomates run up a hill together, panting gently. San Francisco, don't you know. Jeannie has "brow issues," and wants to get Botox injections. The other two girls tell her how stupid that is, and what is she, stupid or something? Yep, it's stupid to want risky "beautification" procedures just because that's what everyone has been telling you you need since, oh, say, birth. Jeannie tells Sarah that she doesn't want to hear it from her, because Sarah "looks twelve." Sarah says she hates looking so young, because people think she's unprofessional -- and now the roomates are suddenly in the elevator, dressed for work, but having the same conversation -- and she can't "really bring clients in," because she "looks twelve." Maybe you can't bring clients in because you suck. Can you look less sucky? Does Neutrogena have a thing for that? Jeannie suggests that Sarah worry more, and Sarah says then she'll have to get her "brow injected with botulism." They all have a good giggle at that. Wow, I hate this show. Women further on in their careers get discriminated against because they look old, and newbies are unfairly judged for being young and inexperienced, and have to run up hills before they go to work in order to get into those slim suits to look good -- but not too good -- at the office! I'm getting married but fast! It's the only way out.