Nick makes a sandwich as Jessica looks at Maltese dogs on the exact same 12-inch PowerBook G4 I'm typing on right now. The fact that we own the same computer makes me a little sad. The fact that I'm watching the show on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon makes me a little sad as well. As they talk, Nick looks down as he realizes the bread has a gigantic green smear of mold on it. Jessica tells him to spit it out. Nick spits it out. Jessica says she can't believe he actually made the sandwich without seeing the mold and Nick, who stands by the sink making retching noises, says, "I already ate one." Jessica looks up, shocked. "Uh-uh!" she says, disbelieving. "Ugh," says Nick. Ha.
Credits. Song. Only place Nick's singing is heard anymore aside from the shower and the bargain bin. This I Swear.
Los Angeles. Hollywood. Night. Black Escalade. Jessica and friends arrive at Mama Simpson's house, and Jessica is excited because she gets to see Maggie, the dog. They open the door, and Jessica starts spazzing out, and the tiny little white shitty dog Mama Simpson holds starts writhing around and yipping and I seriously don't understand how that's a dog. A friend of mine who has two giant dogs he rescued from the pound, dogs he loves more than anything on this planet -- his girlfriend's sister recently surprised them with a Chihuahua puppy from a breeder. So now my proud dog-owning masculine friend has to walk his two big butch dogs, and a tiny Chihuahua puppy named Zazu. I've never seen him so sad and embarrassed. My plan is late at night to come over to his house and put a "I [Heart] My Chihuahua" bumper sticker on his pick-up truck, but I think he might seriously flip out if I did that. Jessica camera-talks about how she doesn't want a big slobbery dog, and Nick doesn't want one she can put in her purse, which is all she wants. Mama Simpson says that you can't really "love on" little dogs, and Jessica immediately counters that big dogs have giant tongues and she'll kiss Maggie's tongue any day. And then she does, and the dog sticks its tiny little alien tongue out -- its desperate, over-bred, nervous, flawed, shaky, genetically weak tongue. Just like Jessica's.
Back at Sagebrush Cantina, Nick and Drew talk about how if Jessica gets a big dog, it'll make her feel more comfortable and safe at home alone. Nick says that if she doesn't stay at the house, she'll have to take the dog with her. Is he already foreseeing the day when she leaves him? Or is he subtly reminding Drew that she's the one with the career, so he'll be the one to stay home alone feeling vulnerable and insecure? Drew says that if they get a "hound" it'll be at his house more than anywhere else, and Nick then says if they go on tour together they can bring it on the bus and they joke how the bus driver will like that, and it's just like watching a production of The Ice Man Cometh, with all the sad drunks sitting around spinning yarns of what they'll do someday when they actually get off the bar stool -- the pipe dreams of future happiness and love and success. It's okay to admit it, Nick, you're never be going on tour again, unless it's a "What Ever Happened To?" tour of racetracks and state fairs in about twenty years. Drew says dogs shed. Thanks for helping, asshole. Nick says that when he gets back from "The Sugar Bowl" (sure, Nick, whatever), that's his next step, getting a dog. He just has to keep Jessica sold on the Husky idea. ("Of course you will, pal. Would you like another scotch and water? Oh look, here comes a guy with a wagon full of ice.")