Grosse Pointe
Satisfaction

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Erin: D | Grade It Now!
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It's Called A Vibrator, Honey. Look It Up.

Okay, look, I should have had this recap all wrapped up and on the site by Tuesday but I'm currently fostering a well-earned relationship with Absolut Citron and soda as well as suffering the after-effects of a pretty big promotion at my day job, so cut me some slack, here. I apologize profusely for being so late with this damn thing, but seeing as I've been at a goddamn user experience seminar for the past three fucking days, two of which I can barely remember because they were so mind-numbingly boring, I'm surprised I'm even able to look at my computer, let alone actually USE it. So, sorry. I mean that sincerely. Sort of.

Anyway...

Dave's reclining on some random slab of wood backstage on the set. He's reading yesterday's Variety. Like that's gonna help his career. Oh-ho. Uh-huh. Kevin shuffles up and asks him where the hell Johnny is because the table read is in, like, five seconds or something. Dave tells Kev that Johnny's probably still waxing his board. Heh. Heh heh. "She said 'waxing his board.'" Heh. Kev's all peeved and says, "Man, I'd like to be good-looking enough so the whole world waits on me." Word. Dave sits up and tells Kev that when Johnny gets older he'll get all wrinkly and ugly, and Dave and Kev will still be smart and interesting. Kev is so confused by this statement that he just stares blankly at Dave. Dave realizes, justifiably, that Kev's not all that smart. Or interesting. Or awake, for that matter. A light bulb shines above Dave's spiky hair as he comes to the unspoken conclusion that he's certainly the smartest damn person in the room, on the show, off the show, and, quite possibly, in the universe.

Kev walks off with Dave in tow. Kev's all concerned that he's going to get blamed for Johnny's lateness, and that really bums him out, because the new producer starts today and he really wants to make a good impression. "Oh," says Dave, "then you'll be promoted to Executive PA?" Ouch. Dave wonders aloud why the network would even bring in somebody else. "Don't they think Rob can handle this job by himself?" says Dave. "If all the stress eating he's been doing is any indication," says Kev, "then he can't." Ho. The boys share a giggle while Rob scoots up and shoves a bakery box at Kevin, saying, "I need Pepperidge Farm Mint Milanos." Then he sticks his tongue into the corner of his mouth, ostensibly to free the last remaining bites of a Sara Lee coffee cake from his back molars.

Rob pulls Kev away from Dave and asks him what he thinks of the new producer's script. Kev says that it's "different" and, after ramming some sort of baked good into his hole, Rob emphatically says, "Yeah. Yeah. Exactly. God. We're in trouble." I have no idea what he's talking about yet, but I'm definitely considering walking over to the local market and picking me up some Double-Stuf Oreos...

The credit sequence runs, and right after it there's that commercial for cotton that shows James Carville and Mary Matalin rolling around between cotton sheets. I just love them. Come on. A Democrat and a Republican who give each other holy hell on a regular basis and then do a commercial for cotton wherein they offer us a little window into their sleeping patterns? I dig that, baby. I dig it the most. Oh, and there's also a commercial for a movie that I will NEVER see; The Grinch. Bleah.

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Grosse Pointe

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