Jessica's "Dessert"

Episode Report Card
Heathen: C- | Grade It Now!
The Sausage Queen of New York
The episode starts with Nick, Jessica, and two unfortunate hangers-on riding around in a black Cadillac Asshat. Jessica is regaling them with stories of her childhood ignorance, not to be confused with her adulthood ignorance, which is different in that it involves being totally unaware of the fact that there is basically no difference. Apparently, her seventh grade history teacher asked the class if anyone could name all the continents -- and at this point, whoever's sitting in the back seat self-importantly and quite seriously nods, "There are seven." Her tone is, "Woooow! That's more than you can count on your fingers!" Legend has it that little Jessica, eager to impress on the first day, shot up her hand and shouted, "A, E, I, O, U!" Everyone giggles, because twelve-year-old Jessica was a giant dumbass without her current saving grace of a gigantic rack. "Mind you, those aren't even consonants!" points out Nick, because he has to make sure the viewing audience knows he understands. "They're fucking vowels!" Jessica laughs, but inside she's musing, "Consonants…isn't that what old people have when they wear a diaper because they can't control their vowels?"

Credits. Dear GOD. That is all.

Over an establishing shot of New York City, Jessica dreamily voices over that they're in town to shoot her new Dessert campaign. She calls it a perfume line. Inside her hotel room, where she's hanging out with Ma and Pa Simpson, Jessica whines that she just wants to be at home in L.A. for more than a week. "And the Super Bowl's this month," she complains. Her mother practically jumps out of her skin, worrying that it's the same day as the Golden Globes. Oh, God. Had that been the case and they'd had to choose, poor downtrodden Nick would've lost that argument in such spectacular fashion that it would have greatly moved up their inevitable divorce. Pa says that the Super Bowl is February 1. "Which one?" Ma says. "The only first of February we have this year," Pa Simpson says, with what he imagines is a clever finger-point that punctuates the delivery of this brilliant joke. Jessica's inner monologue: "Oh, right, because it's a leap year." Actually, I think it's possible Ma Simpson didn't hear which event he'd said was on the first, and was actually asking him to repeat himself; the only reason I'm defending that moronic woman is that I think Pa Simpson is such a slimy slab of ass butter. He acts like he's saddled with and superior to these two idiots, when really, he's living high on the hog because of them (witness: the gleaming diamond stud perching hetero-fabulously in his left earlobe) and he's really not any brighter. Just possessed of more common sense.

It takes two or three more questions for Ma and Pa and Jessica to all get on the same February 1 page in their mental datebooks, but when they arrive it sends Jessica straight onto another page, this one marked "Golden Globes (Not The Ones In My Bra -- The Other Ones)." She asks if she's going, and Pa says she's singing at the post-party. "Is that after, or before?" she asks, screwing up her face. Pa says it's after, and Jessica frowns. She thinks it's weird that "post" means "after." Helpfully, Ma points out, "Don't think of a fencepost," because she's dumber than one. Jessica assures her that this is not the birthplace of her confusion. Rather, she always thought of it as before because "you post a letter before you send it." Everyone laughs. Jessica protests that you do indeed put postage on a letter before you mail it, and it's clear immediately that she somehow just learned this lesson in the season and a half of quasi-self-sufficience she's had to endure for the sake of the show (and her bank account). "Postage? You're using 'post' as a prefix for '-age'?" Pa says incredulously. These people have no idea what they're even saying. I love watching idiots try to win debates through what they think is rational explanation, but which is really just an exercise in whose point is the least asinine. No one specifically points out that to post a letter is to mail it, and is not a synonym for the act of putting postage on an envelope, but Pa Simpson does tiredly tell her that stamps are called "postage stamps," a name that comes from that most magical of places, the post office. "It does?" Jessica asks, impressed. They all stare at each other for while, minds well and truly blown and puffing on a lovely post-release cigarette during the afterglow.

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