"I don't know if you like me, or if you don't like me. I'm just trying to get along here, and every time I walk by I wonder, 'Is are you going to be nice to me? Or cruel?'" Pete's like, "Cruel!? I am married!" Which I don't even know what he means by that, but I'm done with the yellow and green Skittles now and I'm moving on to purple. "Yes, I know. I heard all about how...confusing that can be. Maybe you need me to lay on your couch to clear that up for you again?" Score one for Peggy. Most of the time she makes me want to punch myself in the head, but when she's had enough, girlfriend gets the job done. "That's some imagination you've got! Good thing you're a writer now!" Weak sauce, Peter Campbell, and getting weaker: "What do you need me for?" Um, nothing, you walking sack of enema. Oh no, wait! My bad. Child support.
The gay one and the nerdy one, or the less-cute one that only looks like the nerdy one, are down in Casting, flirting with the double-sided aluminum ladies, which are sets of twins. As you can imagine, they're striking out horribly, because they're not really trying, because the ladies are not the point here. At the other end of the hall, which is lined by actual casting couches, the blonde one is being even creepier, as is his wont. He's telling this cute couple of girls about how on the farm you might get a pair of cows born "attached at the back" who, when "cut apart," still wanted to always be together. He asks if that's what happened to the pair of twins in question, and they're kind of dry-heaving in tandem, so I guess that's an answer. Sterling comes sweeping into the scene with such machismo and grandeur you know he's either going to die or get emasculated crazy bad again by the end of the episode. He scares the juniors off with a quickness and immediately picks his set of twins, Eleanor and Mirabelle. They are, of course, redheads with pale skin, because that's his deal, but compared to Joan they're pretty mousy. Just in case everybody didn't get the memo about his giant balls and virile power, Roger dispatches all the other hopefuls, saying that he and Don are using their authority to choose the new faces of Cartwright double-sided aluminum. Classically, it's this and not what he pulls upstairs that counts as his hubris: this is performance for other people, not his own inner weirdness. They giggle, of course, and Roger invites them upstairs, of course, and they agree, of course, and he asks one twin how old she is. Twenty. And the other one? Oh, how they laugh.