So, Kate takes the call and asks Dr. Fuller -- whose name we later learn is Jenna, and I'm using that now, because I'm already well on the road to carpal tunnel -- how things are going with "Karl," a.k.a. Hottie McHotterson. Jenna chirps that he's simply wonderful, and he must be, because her hair is all loose and flowing and the "tight up-do" to "loose and flowing" transition is TV Hairstyling for "finally got laid." Anyway, Jenna is in love and Karl is just swell. "This is so nice," Kate trills. Jenna dreamily asks Kate to be her maid of honor if she and Karl eventually ring it up, and Kate opens her eyes real wide and advises Jenna to take it slow. "It's only been two weeks," she says. Jenna twirls around on her office chair and gleefully explains that she and Dreamy Karl are going to Hawaii on Monday. Because he promised his dead wife that he'd scatter her ashes in the ocean on Maui, and he wants Jenna to be there. Oh, this isn't going to end well. This is like the time George Costanza was using Susan's death to curry favor with hot babes, and nothing that George Costanza advocates can end well. Kate makes a concerned face and warns Jenna that this trip might be less of a Mai-Tai-fueled sex-athon and more of an emotionally draining sob fest. "Trust me, Kate, I'm ready for this," Jenna sighs. Kate decides, as usual, to go into this with a good attitude, and tells Jenna to give her a ring when she gets back.

Over at the Lesbian Art Gallery, a young woman who looks sort of like Geena Davis adjusts a large painting. "Does this look straight to you?" she asks Kate. Oh, writers. I know that seemed clever, but it was really just a little obvious. But your show is overall a delightfully fluffy confection (and yes, I was watching a commercial for cookies when I wrote that), so I'll let it slide. Anyway, Michelle is not all that stoked by the concept of being set up. You know, all sort of, "I'm very busy, I'm so very, very busy," and Kate is like, "Blah blah blah. Shut up and give it a shot." Michelle sighs. "Look, I hate to say this because her heart is in the right place, but my mother hasn't the slightest idea what my taste is," she finally says. Kate shrugs and suggests that Michelle describe the kind of girl she's interested in. "Well. Okay. She should own at least one dress and one vintage leather jacket. She should like movies with subtitles. And have a current passport. Stamped with at least three hard-to-pronounce destinations. And when we kiss for the first time, I should forget where I am and who I am, at least for a moment," she speechifies. Kate, a better person than I, refrains from rolling her eyes. I had no idea we were allowed to be that specific with our yentas. In that case, I want a man who owns at least one tie and one hardcover book. He should like football. And know how to drive a car. And have a car. And when we kiss for the first time, I would like him to not get saliva on my neck. And I'm just wondering: is Kate going to be forced to examine Michelle's potential dates' passports? "Do you know this girl?" Michelle asks. "I might," Kate says, that little go-getter.