Grosse Pointe
Opposite Of Sex

Episode Report Card
Erin: A+ | Grade It Now!
Jason who?

Jason P. soberly responds, "A sex addict." Jason P. then tells Q that his own sex addiction was the entire reason that he left 90210. "Really?" challenges Hairless. "I thought it was because after eight years, there was nowhere left to go with Brandon." "Oh, there were stories left," Jason P. says defensively. "All right, fine," says Jason P. "I guess you want to end up like Hugh Grant." "Major motion-picture star?" counters Q. "All right, Charlie Sheen," utters Jason P. "Star of TV's Spin City?" parries Hairless. "Pee Wee Herman," fences Jason P., laying down the gauntlet. This stops Quentin cold. They look at each other. Jason P. thrusts a S.O.A. book at Hairless and walks away.

Can I just say something here? My poor Bartlett's Thesaurus is getting a workout tonight, what with all the damn dialogue. I mean, how many times can I use "says" when typing out these lines? I'm flipping back and forth in search of different words for "counter" and "respond" and "retort." I'm exhausted. And, since I've already watched this entire episode twice through, I know that the rest of this bloody thing is just chock-full of great lines, which means my thesaurus is going to be in shreds by the end of this recap.

Wait. I think we're into the music montage portion of the show. Poor little thesaurus can take a wee break. As Patsy Cline's "I'm Sorry" plays, Hairless begins to make amends to all the women he's slept with. First he goes up to some extra or something and makes this little speech about how when he had sexual relations with her, it was a purely physical act, and for that he's sorry. Then he goes up to some random PA and makes the same speech. Then it's another PA. It must be said that the first two were actually kind of cute, but this third one has braids and glasses and is sort of, well, not all THAT, if you know what I'm sayin'. What makes this last one pretty damn funny is that her reaction to his speech is sort of, "Yeah, fine, whatever." But the icing on the cake is his fourth victim; an apparently deaf executive. Quentin tries to articulate his speech in pig-sign language and concludes his communication by making a "crying face" at her. She completely doesn't understand because, well, Quentin's a moron. His final victim is a cheerleader extra who hears his plea and then rockets her lips onto his. Hairless rips himself away, muttering, "I will not succumb. I will not succumb." He then pulls out his -- oh, don't be gross -- cell phone and calls Jason P. "I'm about to slip," he says. "Into a lady..."

Over at the craft services truck, Dave and Coco are doing their best to console Schmarce about the "Dial-a-Death" phone campaign. "Man," says Dave, "this whole call-in thing must be bumming you out." "Yeah," says Coco. "It must be killing you." Stupid Coco. Schmarce insists she's okay with it. "I'm the star of a national campaign," she states unconvincingly. "I'm on every wrapper at Subway®. Do you know that they have seven sandwiches with under six grams of fat?" Spoken like a true food obsessive. Coco tells Schmarce that she doesn't have to put up a brave front for them, but Schmarce claims she's not doing that. She's convinced that this whole thing will set the record straight because she knows that people love her character. And in comes Hunter to shatter the fragile bubble that Schmarce has lovingly created around her flimsy psyche. "Marcy!" she says, shoving her back in front of Dave. "Remember that time I slept with that guy from the WB cuz I thought he was going places and he really wasn't? Well, now he's in charge of your 900 lines. I think it's horrible. Seventy to thirty to pull the plug." Schmarce is crushed. "What?" she whines, falling back into Coco. "But why? Kim seems like such a nice person..." "Honey," continues the Barracuda, "I just want you to know, that no matter how much America despises you, I won't let it effect my feelings for you." Oh, that's good to know, Hunter. And Hunter? Take that ridiculous curler off the top of your head. Unless, of course, it's holding in what's left of your gray matter.

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Grosse Pointe




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