Men In Trees
Ladies Frist

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Wing Chun: B | Grade It Now!
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Sister Act

Marin walks down a street, looking both ways before crossing, when Celia rolls around the corner with her bullhorn, yelling at Marin for jaywalking: "You have to cross at the light!" Marin reminds her that there's only one light in town. Of course, it's all a ruse, as Celia tells Marin to get into the car, whereupon she locks the door and blurts, "I have no idea what my son needs!" Marin, kind but exasperated, tells Celia that she doesn't need to arrest Marin to have a conversation. Celia crabs that Marin's the relationship coach, but Marin tries to weasel out of whatever's coming by qualifying, "Not for families." Celia asks why Patrick can't just accept Hal's death. Marin says she's sure that he will, eventually. Celia complains that he's had twenty-six years to get used to the idea, and that the recovery of the plane has brought the opposite of closure. Marin then makes the mistake of saying that she's also worried about Patrick, leading Celia to sputter territorially that no one else should be concerned about Patrick's mental health except Celia herself: "I'm his mother! And I've...never been honest with him." Marin's like, "About...?" "None of your business!" snaps Celia. Marin patiently says that it's hard to be honest with family: "I have trouble myself. That's why I'm sharing another birthday with my sister." "I didn't pull you over to talk about you," says Celia, which, okay, she's cracked, but more people need to tell Marin shit like that. Celia gets serious to tell Marin, "I have information that might make Patrick feel better. But it also might make him feel worse." "What information?" Marin squints. "None of your business!" Celia squeals again. Marin, holding onto her composure with both hands and white knuckles, says she thinks that people are supposed to be honest if they want to break with the past: "That's my birthday resolution." "Again with you," murmurs Celia irritably. Marin doesn't bother pointing out that Celia is not doing a great job of making Marin want to help her, and then Celia stares into space again and asks, "What if I lose him? Forever?" "You won't," says Marin gently. Celia looks like she really wants to believe this, but Marin (as usual) can't just leave well enough alone, adding, "You can't break up with family. Believe me, I've tried. You're stuck with them for life." Celia smiles with relief. Marin asks to be released, and Celia unlocks the doors, but sits pensively a few moments longer.

Marin is sleeping in the Presidential Suite when Liza comes back, a gentleman caller in tow. As she opens the door, there's all the giggling and shushing that usually accompany a hookup in the campus pub, which is kind of unseemly from a woman in her thirties. Liza drunkenly orders her paramour, "Don't wake my sister," but from the bed, Marin crabbily brays, "Too late!" Liza breathlessly apologizes, promising that they're just saying goodnight, and kisses the dude smackily, adding that she'll see him "ma-NAN-ya." Yeah, she put the tilde on the wrong "N," if that was supposed to be "maƱana," but I'll chalk that up to her being drunk rather than stupid. Liza simpers into the room, gushing about her newest friend, asking if Marin doesn't think he's "dreamy." Marin bitches, "Dreaming would be dreamy," saying that she's barely slept since Liza came to town. Nap during the day when she's out playing Quarters! I'm just saying, plan ahead. Liza says that she's barely slept herself: "This town is crazy!" Marin goes on to educate Liza about which door is appropriate for a goodnight -- the front door at the Inn, in case you were wondering, not the door to the room. Snuggling up next to Marin in bed, Liza says, "I said I was sorry" -- and she did, but it was "sorry sorry sorry!" which is...you know, not so apologetic or sincere. Marin announces that they can't share a room, and Liza incredulously asks, with a laugh, where she's supposed to go. Marin says she doesn't know, but that she'll figure something out. Why can't Liza figure something out herself? She's certainly making lots of man-friends; none of them has a couch?

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Men In Trees

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