Previously on Jack and Jill: Jack and Matt have end-of-date awkwardness, discussing when, if ever, she will invite him in; Elisa's fire-engine red office casuals draw stares from a handsome stranger and she thinks it's love; Barto offers Audrey "something better than safe" and, judging from his mild manner and cozy sweater, we suspect that he doesn't mean "danger"; Jill learns that the woman he just bunked with is married, "but that doesn't mean we can't have fun, eh?" she says, speaking for married women everywhere -- or at least adulterous Canadian wives on The WB.
Mikey's fern bar. Jill swills a refreshing Dos Equis. Ogling two women dressed for winter IN LOS ANGELES, where this New York-set show is blatantly filmed, Mikey announces his desire to seek out "a pseudo-girlfriend," a phenomenon he defines as "more than a one-night stand but less than someone you've got to go out with every Saturday night." I believe the correct term would be "quasi-" or even "semi-girlfriend," but who's asking. Certainly not Randi Mayem Singer, who wrote this episode. Apparently "the beauty of" this arrangement is that the hapless pseudo-girlfriend never knows about her rookie status, and is therefore deprived of the contingent glee when, if ever, she gets "bumped up." Let the record show that Simon Rex learned a few things about getting bumped up in his career trajectory from Young Hard and Solo to prime time. The man-child knows of what he speaks. And Mikey, that troglodytic comment just earned you the nickname "Missing Link."
Jack walks into the bar, wearing a wrongly-placed barrette that makes her head resemble the body of a squid. Jill grills Jack on Matt's whereabouts while Link smirks knowingly. Despite the fact that he's the sole bartender in an ostensibly crowded bar, he has ample time to stand around coining synonyms for the phrase "fuck buddy." "Maybe you're a pseudo," he suggests to Jack, flaunting his agrammatical joie de vivre by using an adjectival prefix as a noun. Jack protests feebly that she's seen Matt "every Saturday night for the last…week." Link and Jill debate the likelihood of Matt juggling other pseudos, and Jill decides he wants to procure a pseudo-girlfriend of his own. Right on cue, a busty brunette with a poodle perm swivels around on the barstool behind him and asks if he's David Jillefsky. When he says yes -- with the unctuous leer of the about-to-get-lucky -- she hands him a summons and says, in the saucy, suggestive manner of subpoena-deliverers everywhere (oh, never mind), "Congratulations. You've been sued." Hoisting her chest off the bar, she hobbles into the night. Trusty Link assures Jill that she was not pseudo material.
Roll credits. Boys walking together, girls walking together, cops walking together, district attorneys walking together -- oh wait, I was dreaming of Law and Order. And now it's time to wake up and smell the bitter brew . . . but I can't, because I'm too preoccupied with your Wind Song. Which haunts me so that I must quit my job at the foundry and mow you down on a trestle bridge.