Ted slowly gets out of bed, being careful with his sore nether regions. He limps to the living room and muses, "Let's see who's on DemonDick.com, shall we?" That's not what Emmett meant. Ted ignores him and dazes over to his laptop computer, surrounded by more wadded-up tissues and empty take-out food containers. Emmett gives it another try: he knows that getting fired sucks: "It's a tremendous blow." Ted's head swivels around at the word "blow." Emmett says there's a wonderful world waiting right outside the window. Ted snarls, "Let me tell you something about that fabulous world out there. You either jerk off or you get jerked off." Sounds like a win-win to me.
Brian's. Brian's in bed, getting a blowjob from some guy. The guy looks up. Hey, it's Justin. Sorry, I didn't recognize his butt. Brian rolls over to reciprocate, but Justin pushes him away. Brian's like, "Since when do you turn down getting your dick sucked?" That's not rejection, Brian -- it's shock. But Justin says he wants to "save [his] energy for his art." Brian can give him a blowjob tomorrow. Brian says he might not be in the mood tomorrow. Justin's like, uh, yeah. I'll take my chances. I don't know, Justin. Christmas only comes once a year. Brian goes to the bathroom, and Justin tries to work on a drawing in his sketchpad. His right hand starts shaking uncontrollably. Justin pulls it back and stretches it out, making sure that Brian didn't see. Justin tries again, and the same thing happens. And terror is written all over his face. Brian walks back to bed and asks whether Justin's drawing naked pictures of him again. Justin chuckles that he's just doodling. Brian goes down on him anyway, saying that he, too, is just "doodling." With his tongue. Justin gives up, but keeps looking at his own hand.
Breakfast at the Liberty Diner. Brian and Mike sit in a booth together, and I still can't believe these people get up early enough to have breakfast out before going to work. I can barely get up early enough to exercise before going to work, and that's only twenty-five minutes with Denise Austin on television in my living room, five feet from the bed. And I still have to give myself a pep talk every morning. Unless, for some reason, I'm already awake, getting up two hours early to have breakfast with a bunch of people I see every single day anyway? Is not going to happen. Anyway, Mike mumbles about changing his hairstyle -- maybe buzzing it or bleaching it blonde. Brian asks Mike what's wrong. Mike says nothing's wrong. Brian says that every time something goes wrong in Mike's life, he thinks about doing something to his hair. Mike doesn't think so. Debbie comes by with coffee and Brian tells her that Mike wants to do something to his hair. Debbie, predictably, wants to know what's wrong. Mike finally growls, "It just feels like everybody's life is speeding along. Lindsay and Melanie are getting married. Justin's going to art school, and he was practically dead a couple of months ago, for fuck's sake! And I'm still stuck at the starting gate!" Debbie's all, when did this become a race? Mike pouts, "Since I started coming in last!" Debbie tells him to do something about it, then: "After all, you're cute. You're young. You're hung." Which qualifies him to do what? Start a new career as a male stripper? ["Plus why does Mike's MOM know he's hung?" -- Wing Chun] Mike doesn't know what to do. Brian snaps that he should quit working at the Big Q. Mike would like to, but he has "obligations." To, uh, "others." Debbie knows he's talking about her, and informs him that his first obligation is to himself. What's going to make him happy? Mike takes so long to answer that Brian finally sighs, "Should we hum the theme to Jeopardy?" Mike growls at Brian to fuck off, and then adds, "What would make me happy is to get to work on time and not get shit from my boss!" The day hasn't even started and already he's screwed. Emmett droops over to the booth. Mike was worried, since Emmett didn't come home the night before. Debbie hopefully cackles, "Someone got lucky!" Emmett frowns, "Good for him. I spent the night at Ted's." Playing twenty rounds of "Hide the Lube," no doubt. Sounds like fun. Well, I guess that would depend on where you're hiding it. Aw, man -- now they've got me doing it. Ted's in trouble, Emmett continues, and the only thing to do is to hold an intervention. Debbie's all, is it booze? Nope. Dick. Namely, his own. Brian snorts, "Schmuck. He couldn't even get a decent addiction." Oh, yeah, Brian. Because having an audience makes all the difference.