Anchormatt crosses the newsroom with a bin full of stuff. He wears a black trench coat this time, proving yet again that he is the London Foggiest man on television. Ick comes scrambling after him, hell-bent on eking more melodrama out of a breakup Anchormatt seems to be over already. It seems Ick has mistaken a whisk broom for hair extensions -- again. "I just wanted to say goodbye!" she simpers, causing Anchormatt to stare expectantly at the elevator and say, "Okay. Bye!" Ick looks chagrined that he's not more of a wreck "I just wanted to say that I don't regret anything about us and I hope that, in time, you won't either," she whines. Anchormatt presents her with his profile and beats a hasty elevator retreat, but not before claiming that he has no regrets either. "Hey, good luck in Washington," blurts Ick, determined to milk an epiphany out of this mundane situation. Anchormatt says, "See ya!" and the elevator closes on Ick looking plaintive.

Cut to @Bar, where a fatheaded, aging frat boy nuzzles a vapid blonde cheerleader type. Their endearments are all tuber-related. She's his potato, he's her "big spud," et cetera. Mikey asks for their order and they get a "Slippery Nipple and a Sex on the Beach, " causing Mikey to look dyspeptic and say, "I hate Valentine's Day." Long story short, Belinda flounces in wearing a crimson Paddington outfit and tells Mikey she's got a present at home for him that's "worth the wait." Mikey looks nauseous, tries to weasel out of it, then caves and says "Damn!" when Belinda leaves. The cozy couple remains entwined at the bar, tussling over who wuvs who more.

Meanwhile, Ick and Ill sit mopily in a garish Chinese restaurant with a giant gong in the background. Ick has thoughtfully dressed to match the décor in a red satin kimono sewn from a tablecloth. They have a stilted exchange about potential entrees, and my boyfriend points out that, among the extras in the background, they have seated a distinguished Chinese man with a she-male dressed like Eddie Vedder. Ick thanks Ill for the flowers, indicating her displeasure at his undemonstrative note. Ill keeps frantically hailing the waiter so he can drink his way through this encounter just as I did, taking a page from the book of the long-suffering keckler. A gong sounds to symbolize the utter failure of Ick and Ill's chemistry as a couple.