Back at the booth, Ted is blathering on to Marshall about how it's liberating to not take it so seriously. Ted's right, Marshall. Just shit or get off the pot. Get the lead out, brother. Oh, wait, they're still talking about their sex life, because Robin adds, "Yeah. Last night, we actually did it while I was returning a bunch of phone calls." I knew it was TMI of one kind or another. Marshall's disgusted. "I knew you didn't get a rowing machine!"
Barney's not happy the subject hasn't changed, which makes me feel sorry for him, even while I revel in the schadenfreude. How many times has he assailed his friends (and my thoughts) with a too-thorough description of his sexcapades? Oh, no. I'm just like Lily. Damn it! Robin lectures that this is a private thing between her and Ted. Then they both salute each other and say, "Private Thing." Heh. The gang groans at their in-joke, so Robin changes the subject from her private thing with Ted to Marshall's private thing wherein he can't "read a magazine" at work.
We learn from Lily that when Marshall was in law school, she thought he was having an affair when she saw a credit card charge for a hotel room. Flashback to a redheaded Lily (poofy astronaut's wife's wig circa 1965, but the color's so pretty) in tears on the couch, accusing Marshall of having an affair. He protests that it's not what she thinks. When Lily demands to know "her" name, Marshall confesses: "Burrito. Carnitas Burrito." Thanks for ruining Mexican food for me, show. When Robin mocks Marshall for renting a hotel room (and no kidding, in NYC, I don't think Lily's the only one who squandered their money) to "read a magazine" Marshall asks her if she wants a sugar cube for that high horse she's riding and maintains that nobody likes to "read a magazine" at work.
Barney says, "Dude, I 'read a magazine' at work every day. I can't tell you how many meetings I've been late to because I was busy 'reading a magazine.' But I don't feel bad about it. That's my time. Sure, 'reading a magazine' ain't pretty, but you know, it's something I gotta do, so why be ashamed about it?" Not for nothing, this seems to be the attitude I've noticed in most guys I ever worked with. They'd practically dance off to the bathroom, newspaper under their arms. It was gross, much like this B-plot. The gang seems impressed with Barney's casual attitude about normal bodily functions though, forgetting what's normal for Barney's body when functioning. Barney: "Wait, 'reading a magazine' means masturbating, right?" No, dude. Aren't you reading the weecap? It means poop.