An Amazonian drag queen who wishes she was RuPaul passes Ted and Michael as they cross the street. The camera follows the drag queen as she (he? What's the correct lingo? Cut me some slack, I'm still new here) steps up to the opposite curb, past two equally tall men making out...and Daphne and Justin. Daphne's wearing a shiny pink dress with a fluffy feather collar, that Judy Jetson was kind of enough to lend her. Justin's wearing a dark silver top and jeans. Justin's cute. Daphne's cuter. Daphne's all excited: "Ohmigod, look at that! Is it a girl or a boy?" Justin laughs and tells her not to point, "no matter what you see. Guys kissing guys, girls kissing girls." Like he's all wise and shit. Daphne: "Well, what if I see a guy kissing a girl? That would be something new down here." Yeah, if you see a guy kissing a girl, one of them isn't. Daphne tells him to stop acting like he's so experienced. Dawson...sorry, "Justin" says that he's more experienced than she is. He also reminds her that if they see Brian, she's supposed to act like she doesn't. She promises, even though we both know Justin's a dork.
Melanie and Lindsay's, heretofore known as the Happy Fun House, 'cause Melanie's in a snit. Again. Still. Freakin' always, dude. She storms into the kitchen, carrying dishes, with St. Lindsay close at her heels. Lindsay does that thing that the "wrong" person always does when trying to avoid a fight -- she attempts to change the subject, this time to leftovers and losing her pregnancy weight. Melanie slams a platter down on the kitchen counter and storms back into the dining room. Any Straight Girl could have told you that wasn't going to work, L. Lindsay sighs heavily and asks how long this is going to go on. NO answer. Lindsay asks if Melanie's ever planning on speaking to her again. Like that would be a good thing. Melanie walks out the front door. Forever. Sorry, no such luck. Instead she snipes, "What would you like me to say? All right, how about I have a house full of uneaten cold cuts and uncircumcised son?" Both Lindsay and Melanie are suffering from Jennifer Aniston syndrome here, from which I will infer that lesbians are neither fond of bras, nor of turning the thermostat up. Not to make any vast generalizations, or anything. Lindsay tries another tactic: at least Brian agreed to sign the insurance policy, which was what Melanie wanted him to do last week. But she doesn't remember that, or else she would have remembered that Brian saw Gus then, and she chooses not to remember that, either. Either way, Melanie snipes that that doesn't do her a lot of good right now, since she's been humiliated in front of family, friends, a rabbi. And the cold cuts. Don't forget the cold cuts. And Lindsay let him have his way! Melanie: "Of course, I know it's not very important to you or Brian, but it happens to be an important ritual in my family." So's being straight, I'd wager, but you seem to have gotten through that okay. See Also: Note about parental lineage of Jewish faith. See Also: The ladder in the corner. Grab it and GET OVER YOURSELF. Lindsay: "You know that there are a lot of men that think that circumcision is a cruel and barbaric practice?" Melanie: "I don't care what men think about their dicks!" Wonderful attitude for raising a baby boy, I'd like to point out. "I care that you put Brian before me. But why should I be surprised? You always have." Melanie rolls her eyes. Let the shrill whining commence: Lindsay wanted Brian to be the father, even though Melanie didn't want him to be, but it had to be Brian or no one, "so now he's a part of our lives forever, whether we like it or not!" You're the only one complaining, Mel. FYI. Oh, yeah -- and shut up, Melanie.