Six Feet Under
Coming And Going

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Large And In Sarge

Claire decorates the coach house with A LOT of candles and places some vagina flowers on a table in the middle of the room as a signpost that says, like, "This way to my vagina." You know who she doesn't want jiving with that message? Her mother, who lets herself right in and reminds us all in as stark a fashion as possible that Claire doesn't really have her own apartment, does she? Claire asks her what's up, and Ruth sits down gingerly on a couch she bought in a house she owns and starts right in: "That girl Anita. I think she should be contributing financially." Claire doesn't really agree, telling her mother, "She practically lives at Russell's," and Ruth takes it a step further: "Your Russell? That's terrible!" For Anita it is. Ruth objects to the way in which Anita "prance[s] around the house in her underwear," and Claire chimes in to disabuse her mother of the notion that any of her friends "prance." Except for Russell, a couple of times. And the guys on the LAC Arts Baton Squad. And I'm sure there is one. But I'll bet it's really ironic.

Celeste hops into the back of her limo and yells at someone about scheduling. I will guess it is, in fact, her publicist. She tells Keith to get in back, and she hurls her cell phone with a determined "oof" after the parting shot, "You think you have job security? I fired my own damn parents." Bless this girl, for her acting talent is not great. She rips a magazine from Keith's hands and flips it open to what Keith has to announce is "your picture." Thanks, Keith. It's like in Shakespeare when the characters announce, "What ho, it is the nurse!" because half of the Globe audience had seats too shitty to note the entrance and the other half was like, "Then why is it a little boy?" The picture is one in which, according to Celeste's own estimation, she looks "like a fucking two-dollar hooker." As do nine out of every fourteen members of the cast right now, so you're really in finer company than you'll ever be again. She goes into an apoplectic rage and begins slamming the magazine again the side of the car and screaming, and Keith has to pull her off...herself...because the truly skilled meta-skilled security guard has to protect his client from a coordinated assault by her own id. He tells her that she's beautiful, and when she calms down a bit, she tells him quietly, "I'm starving." Why not play in a telethon for yourself? Keith gives her his sandwich, which is filled with the only love she'll ever really know.

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Six Feet Under

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