The cosmetology class is being taught by Shelley Long, in a (what else?) pink suit and a blonde Ivana Trump updo. She is heavily but perfectly made up. As two rows of students fool around with cosmetics, she lectures: "The Egyptians, the Aztecs, the Mayans, all believed that to paint one's face was an expression of power…of nobility…of health…even spirituality." Joan manages to fumble her attempt to use an eyelash curler, and I know Frink is squicked. He doesn't believe me that it doesn't hurt if you do it carefully, and it freaks him out to watch me use mine. Mind you, just yesterday I saw a woman using one while driving and I thought that was just nuts. Joan: "Ow! Oh, I'm blind. I'm blind. No, I'm okay." As the teacher continues telling them that both men and women used makeup -- "if anything, the men were more adorned" -- she adds that it's a fairly recent development that men are supposed to be ashamed of preening. Friedman dispenses a softball-sized gob of mousse into his palm. As he rubs it through his hands and into his hair, he tells the teacher, "Straight up." Joan yelps again, still struggling with the eyelash curler: "Ow! Oh, this is like torture!" The teacher hustles over to Joan to give her some pointers about resting her pinky finger on her cheek in order to apply the eyeliner. Frink: "She's a total Mary Kay commando." Then there's a funny bit where Joan does follows the teacher's instructions very carefully, with her mouth open in that tentative way, and Mary Kay mimics her facial expression exactly. Joan manages it, and they both laugh and smile a bit. Mary Kay beams at Joan: "There's no need to apologize for the pursuit of beauty. Ancient civilizations understood this." Joan: "So, it's important to look your best while…being a human sacrifice?" Hee. There's a thought: would those cultures sacrifice the best-looking ones in order to honour the gods, or the worst-looking ones, figuring, let's tidy up the gene pool while we're at it?

Mary Kay's not amused. She goes on blathering about layering, palettes and colours. Um, I'm not feeling the chemistry here. It's all just about the techniques and aesthetics, with a little bit of history. Where's the study of the chemistry of cosmetics? The camera drifts down to Friedman, who turns to Joan and Glynis, asking, "How do I look?" Frink and I practically fall off the couch laughing: his hair's totally moussed up in what I can only describe as a cross between a Jew 'fro and a pompadour. Joan contemplates this and replies, "Like Erykah Badu. What…" He shoots her a goofy grin and she asks, "Friedman, what are you even doing here?" Friedman: "I'm here to converse with chicks about Prada." Good luck with that. Glynis blurts, "I don't want to look too brazen. You'd tell me if I was crossing over in Aguileraland?" That's amusing, since Mageina Tovah is in the video for "Beautiful," in case you were wondering where you'd seen her before. Friedman says, "Whoa! Caliente." Glynis smiles, pleased. Joan's not smiling: "Are you hitting on my brother's girlfriend?" Friedman: "No. I'm just notating scientific data." Joan: "While hitting on my brother's girlfriend." Friedman: "A little bit." They exchange testy looks, and Friedman says, "It's high school." He turns his attention to the girl on his other side. ["I am starting to really enjoy The Friedman. Don't get up; I'll fire myself." -- Sars]