The Big Q-Mart. Fat Marly is busy insulting a customer at the cash register. Mike walks up and asks her if she's busy that night, and Marly quips, "Do you know how long I've been waiting for a man to ask me that?" Hard to say. How long have you been alive? Anyway, Mike needs help with inventory check that evening. Marly says she's got church choir practice. What a shock. The bigot is a faithful church-goer. Has that particular stereotype reached cliché status, already? Tracy overhears their conversation and volunteers to help Mike out. Tracy does the girl-crush thing very well, up to and including the trembling inflection, like she just hastorushthewordsout! before she loses her courage. Poor SOL. Sucker. Mike has no choice but to thank her and say that it will only take a couple of hours. Marly snarks, "[Tracy] wouldn't mind if it took all night." Mike frowns managerially at her. And she's mean to customers, too. Fire her ass.
Oh, for crying out loud, Justin's mom has taken him to therapy. Therapy, for God's sake. Well, now we know where the Drama Queen genes come from. Like, try being a parent first before you humiliate your son in front of a psychiatrist. Jennifer Taylor tells the shrink that she and Justin used to be close, but Justin won't talk to her, he's running away from her (how she managed to drag his ass into this woman's office is beyond me), he lies about staying over at Daphne's when she knows he's not (then why do you let him go, MOM), and she's found..."things." Things? Naked sketches of men. The shrink's eyes widen in shock. Give. Me. A. Break. Dude, this is Pittsburgh, not Kashmir. I'm thinking a woman with a doctorate in Psychology would probably be able to deal. This scene annoyed the crap out of me, especially since I'm starting to feel sorry for Justin, cringing on the edge of the couch. Jennifer says she just has to know -- and the therapist finishes for her, "if he might be gay?" "Might"? Are you kidding? Isn't that why we're here? You think he went galloping down the street because he was tired of driving? You think P-Flag the Clown and Gay-Boy-Michael dropped Justin off because he couldn't get shipped by UPS? Oh, but here's the capper: Jennifer, not even waiting for an answer, and not even addressing her son, "He's only seventeen. He's too young to be having those feelings." The Gay Man/Single Girl World Coalition emits a single high-pitched shriek as I throw this month's issue of Cosmo into the TV screen. Oh, really? And how old were you when you were sure you wanted to have sex with men, Jenny? That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard in my life. He's too young to have those feelings. Un-f'in believable. "Justin, how can you possibly know who you are?" Jennifer asks him. Wouldn't it be nice if you couldn't have sex unless you "knew who you were"? That certainly would have made the last five years of my life a hell of a lot easier. But I'm not bitter. No, wait -- yes I am. Jennifer totally deserves what she gets when the therapist asks Justin if he wants to say anything. Justin steels himself and says matter-of- factly: "I like dick. I wanna get fucked by dick. I wanna suck dick. I like sucking dick. And I'm good at it, too." Whatever else I say I might say about this kid, he's got balls to burn. Mrs. Taylor is on the verge of tears. The shrink has that bug-eyed look again, so will someone take away her license, please? "Well," says the shrink haltingly. "That's a start." Yeah, but where does she think the finish line is?