And now, the tennis game. After Sandy comments, "You've certainly improved over the years," Jillian replies in a voice laced with arsenic, "I've had lots of time to practice. You know, not being a career gal and all that." Sandra replies, "Hey, don't sell yourself short. Raising a kid's a full-time job." Except that Mrs. Big Ed raised Delinda, so maybe a few job evaluations wouldn't have hurt. Also, how tired are the Mommy Wars? Do we really need to make it seem like parenting and having a career are an either/or proposition for women? If we're not Lisa Belkin, I mean? Anyway, the two women are hitting balls to Ed and subtly jabbing at each other while they slam balls left, right, and center. We get it already. Big Ed is saved by the telephone bell, and heads back to the office because Danny found someone to match the Janet Ellis stalker profile. Sandy heads off too, telling Jillian, "You have a good lunch." Jillian helps herself to a snack of petty assault, taking a chance to hit Sandy in the back with a well-aimed tennis ball, then giving her the "Who? Me?" face. Oh, Mrs. Big Ed. Clearly I was wrong to expect dignity.

Mary's got her face buried in a huge arrangement of roses. She asks Janet who sent them, and Janet dismisses the question by waving around her hand and stating that she gets so many, she doesn't even bother to check anymore. She natters on while Mary reads the typed card, which contains your usual stalkeresque, "If I can't have you, nobody else can!" crap. You'd think that divas would attract a better, or at least more theatrically baroque, quality of stalker. Anyway, Janet vamps in front of a mirror and asks how she looks, and Mary barely spares a moment's glance at the blue spangled mermaid gown before decreeing, "It makes your ass look big." Janet concurs with, "Damn!" Mary heads off to pester Danny while Janet throws up her hands and screams, "Somebody!" I want to do that. Think about how potent a superpower that is: you bellow, and an army of flunkies hops to. Anyway, Janet directs her flunkies to get her out of one dress and to find another, then turns toward Mary to ask, "Honey, you want to have a latte?" only to discover there's no latte to be had. That's okay, Janet. You don't need to be having dairy products on the same night as a big vocal performance. Come to think of it, she doesn't need to be bellowing like a sow in heat on the same night as a big vocal performance either: why is she not clanging a cowbell to summon flunkies and holding up placards written by a nervous-looking scribe flunkie as she demands things in a lot of capital letters and exclamation points? Anyway, Mary's apparent impertinence causes Janet to exclaim, "I love that girl!" I'd love it if Janet were to decide she loved Mary so much, she had to take her on a world tour or take up permanent residence in the Montecito. I tell you, we need more Janet! What is a casino without a diva terrorizing everyone?