Lindsay, Melanie, and Justin are stuffing their faces at the reception, talking about how great Greasy Fiddler was. Justin suddenly knows this kid's entire bio. Mel and Lindz are happy to see Justin taking an interest in "culture," and toast themselves to "another lesbian success story." Okay, here's the worst-directed thing I've ever seen. Lindsay looks off to the left and says, "Oh, there's Susan. I'd better thank her for the tickets." Then Lindsay walks to her left, circles Justin completely, and then comes all the way back around to kiss Mel on the shoulder and walk off with her. She does a complete circle for absolutely no reason at all.
So now Justin's alone, sauntering up to Fuzzy Face. Justin holds up his program so we can see that he's holding his sketches of Violin Boy as he finishes his drink. He tells the violin boy that he thought Violin Boy was wonderful. "The Ravel was passable but the Brahms was for shit," says Violin Boy. Justin says he didn't notice. "Yeah, well, you should've; it was all your fault," the boy answers. Is he signing an autograph for Justin? He says that the way Justin was staring at him was very distracting. Justin apologizes. "Although not necessarily in a bad way," the fiddler finishes. Justin laughs and introduces himself. Our fiddler gets a name: Ethan. Justin holds up his program and says he knows. Yes, but we didn't, Justin. Ethan sees Justin's drawings on the program and asks to see it. Justin's modest, but Ethan takes the program. "It's me in five variations," he says. "It's a habit," Justin says. "You know, I can't stop myself." Except for the fact that you've got a gimp hand. Oh, you don't? Well, then forget I said anything. Ethan's about to tell me "it's because the writers don't give a shit about continuity or character development," but he's interrupted by his own creepy utterances to the effect that Justin's a true artist and he plays in his sleep. Where's Brian to make the obvious joke about Ethan playing in his sleep? Ethan seems to know that Justin goes to that school. I guess it's more than just an art college. Justin says that his friends brought him to the recital for his birthday. Lindsay makes an awkward cross at this point and says "Hello!" in this sing-songy voice. Ethan gives Justin a CD of his own music and says, "Happy birthday." Love ourselves much? Justin compliments the photo on the jewel case. Ethan says that next time, he'll use one of Justin's sketches. "Do," Justin says quietly. Off-camera friends pull Ethan's attention away from Justin momentarily, so Justin awkwardly has to find somewhere else to go so that he doesn't look like a loser. Once Justin's finally away, Ethan turns to look for him. Of course. Of course. I could end every paragraph of every recap with "of course." Are you guys that do this show still reading these recaps? Do you hate me or agree with me? Do you want to vent? Please just write me an email. I'll keep it secret, but I want to know what it feels like to be on a runaway cliché train. I want to know what you honestly feel about this show. Are you really happy with it, or do you want to scream? Help me help you. Help me help you. Help me. Help you. Help. Help. Somebody help me.
Yo! Whoa. I am watching Ted get head. Come on, people, enough is enough! Ted and Gay Jesus are doing a little 69 action on some kind of red velvet bed. Ted isn't very good and has to keep stopping to catch his breath. Maybe try a different angle, Ted. Please see the Gay Sex 101 thread on the forums for further assistance. Now I'm watching Ted and Gay Jesus share intimate kisses. I'm so close to the action that I'm Gay Jesus's left bicuspid. That's my new Fight Club quote, by the way. "I am Gay Jesus's left bicuspid." Between Ted and Gay Jesus, there's not one fully-formed lip between them. They breathe into each other's mouths about how totally awesome it all is, and how Ted's a wonderful lover. "So nice," Gay Jesus breathes. When we pan back just slightly, the way they're curled into each other makes them look like two sixteen-year-old boys. Gay Jesus isn't allowed subtext either, so he tells Ted that he's such a sincere and honest lover. Ted can't take the pressure of his porn habit, so he stammers for a million years about how he wasn't exactly, kind of, um, well, you know, maybe, uh, um, well, you see, there's, um, relief work, uh, you know, kinda, um, how should I say, you know, uh, I'matotalpornwhoreandIendeduphavingtomakeajerkoffsite (breathe) sopeopledidn'tsendmesomewherefortreatment (breathe) andIneedlotsofattentionbecauseIhaveastrangeideaofwhatloveis. Ted's chest hair is crawling like Daddy Longlegs have hatched from his nipples. Ted needs a facial, as I am now Ted's flaky nose. Gay Jesus absolves Ted from his sins, and tells him that he even visited one of those sites himself. Hey, GJ, did you lock yourself in the house for a month covered in used Kleenexes because you couldn't get your hand off your dick? Because Ted did. Are you ready for that kind of baggage? Are you ready to deal with a man who can't stop talking about fucking all day long? Who doesn't understand the grieving process when a porn convention comes to Pittsburgh? Who whores himself out every single night to get big men not to fuck him but to jerk off near him because he can't get guys to fuck him? He's Ted. He's pathetic. He isn't capable of human emotion like we are, Gay Jesus. Do yourself a favor and fuck Brian Kinney. At least it's simpler, and when it's over you have the rest of Pittsburgh to commiserate with you. Ted asks Gay Jesus if he minds. "No, no," Gay Jesus says. "Look. You're what matters." He whispers this as we're a particle of breath bouncing inside his upper teeth. We zoom into Ted until we're one smudge of blue on his iris. Ted exhales a laugh and we fall into one of his cheek pores. They kiss open-mouthed, without tongue.