Charlotte and Anthony step into the SoHo Chanel for a little shopping. Anthony greets the straight-faced (ahem) security guard with a cheery, "Chanel-lo!" Heh. And I am loving the new chunky Lucite heels they're showing. Char is looking for "something simple to meet the birth parents in." She's giddy that they're from Charlotte, North Carolina. Anthony says the coincidence is "very TV movie of the week." Ooh, maybe someone will get murdered or jam a hypodermic into their leg to "chase the dragon," too. Will Hilary Swank or Meredith Baxter be there, too? I'd love that. Anthony goes on to say that, in his movie, Char will be played by Barbara Perkins circa Valley of the Dolls, and he will be played by Colin Farrell. Char tilts her head and asks if he thinks he looks like Colin Farrell. He snaps, "It's my movie!" Heh. Then Anthony softens in a way that we've never seen before. He's soft like sweet, creamery butter that's been left out on the counter in July. Softer than room-temperature Nuftchanel. Softer than a boatload of Pond's cold cream. He asks, "In your movie, how big is my part? Bit or supporting?" Char is all, what? He means that, after the baby comes, will they still be homies? You know. A hag and her man, out for a walk? Char says of course she'll be his hag. Always and forever. Anthony lets the tiniest smile cross his features, and lets Char take his arm. Plus, if this baby doesn't work out, he knows "some gays that got a Guatemalan baby for like a hundred bucks." So resourceful, that Anthony. And good for Char not outgrowing her best male friend, like someone else we know who's name rhymes with "Scary."
Hair salon. Sam's getting her slowly-growing crop dyed ash blonde. She asks her hairdresser to save some for Smith, over there in the next chair, since he's "one hot piece of...ash." Oy. They make goo-goo eyes at each other. I'm gagging.
Post-ashing, Sam looks just like Jean Seberg, or maybe even a little like Edie Sedgwick. Quick, stand on a leather hippo, Sam. Yup. That's Edie. Smith ducks into the changing room with Sam, who's only in her bra, and kisses her. She faintly protests and rebuffs his advances. The hell? The horniest girl on television just turned down a chance to fool around? My hero, she has feet of clay. And pants not on fire. She has unseated herself from the tree. I'm...at a loss. Smith asks if they're going to talk about the fact that they haven't had sex in a while. What? Whoa. It's even worse than I thought. The tree she was sitting in has been chopped down. She's all, do we have to talk about it here? Smith says his therapist told him not to mention it at all. She's all, therapist? Yeah. He needed help in dealing with all the cancer stuff. She's not at all happy to hear this. "Well, since my sex drive has vanished and you're going out of town to work on a movie, why talk about it at all?" The hairdresser sees two pairs of feet underneath the changing room curtain and is all, Sam, you RASCAL. If he only knew.