At their desks now, Ricky asks Sip what The Profiler wrote in his note. The camera waves over to show us: Dear Sip, will you ask out John for me? I think he's sooo fine! Just kidding, Sip says, "He wrote this polite note here with his idea of humor: 'Guess the perp didn't fit my profile. Congrats anyway.'" Well, he admitted he was wrong. Then Sip goes on to say that the whole time he was working the Bucci case with the profiler, the only way he could face the parents of the murdered five-year-old girl was to get real loaded the night before. "Maybe I don't like remembering what a prick I was back then." Wow, Sip admits he was a prick! Ricky rubs the right side of his head with his left hand, in what is now his trademark gesture.
Ricky and Mary are having dinner-din in his apartment. Mary cooked lasagna. Ricky says, "This could be the best meat sauce I ever tasted." Mary doesn't eat, or some reason. She's "afraid she might throw up" if she does, so her plate is bare. Excuse me while I cough -- bulimia. Pardon me. Then they go to wash the dishes. He nags her about mixing the silverware. "You only have two forks and two knives," Mary says. Quit being so neurotic, you two! On the couch, Ricky gossips about his day, says Sip is weird, then goes, "You want to hit the rack?" Mary says, "How about you get me all stirred up first," and they start making out. Kiss kiss! WOOOO! I don't think these two freaky lovebirds are going to last. They are just too weird and similar to make it. Or maybe it's that they are grossing me out.