Six Feet Under
The Invisible Woman

Episode Report Card
Aaron: B- | Grade It Now!
Dead women tell no tales

Leaving the scene of the crime for a moment, we cut over to DGDJ's house, where Ruth is having trouble picking out an outfit for her. "All of these seem so flat," she says, in her cardigan and Mary Janes. "I wish one had more oomph." Nate's cell phone rings, and it's a church somewhere calling to let him know that the priest the DGDJ requested for the service is unavailable. "Oh, great," he says. "I'm fucked." A shocked glare from Ruth prompts an immediate apology. "I'm sorry, Sister." Heh. Ruth continues looking through the deceased's personal possessions, finding both earrings and shoes that look like something she herself would wear. She also checks out the fridge (prompting Nate to ask if she's hungry), and wonders just how lonely the woman really was. If you haven't figured out this episode's Very Special Lesson about solitude by now, my explaining it any further isn't going to help, so let's just move on.

As the Dead Junkie is loaded onto an ambulance, Keith's partner tries to comfort him, pointing out that the shooting was justified. Meanwhile (or, actually, several hours later, based on the fact that it's now dark outside), David is on his date with the Little White Sex Dork. LWSD has decided to forgo wearing his glasses for the evening, because it's "all [his] glasses' fault" that he didn't look good for their date. Again, I beg to disagree. Chicks with glasses are sexy. "This is me without beta-blockers," says the LWSD, moving in for a kiss. David stops him by making the startling confession that he's actually a funeral director. "Well, I have to say I'm glad you're not in textiles," replies the Little White Sex Dork. "That sounded really boring." David explains that he didn't tell the truth earlier because he didn't want the LWSD to be "repulsed." He also mentions that most people only "wait about five seconds before bringing the conversation around to necrophilia." For the record, I want credit for not having mentioned necrophilia even once during the first season. Does this mean David and I would make a good couple? Hmm. And then this is where my long-running love affair with all things TiVo hits a slight snag, as my screen goes fuzzy and skips the next few seconds. So I have no idea what happens here, and I'm a bad, bad recapper for not having also taped one of the other eight million weekly showings to find out what I missed. Sorry. ["I think they bantered some more and then made out." -- Sars] I'm also, incidentally, a bad, bad recapper for promising you a contest this week, when it looks like I won't be able to deliver. Stay tuned, however, as things may change in the near future. And that's all I have to say about that.

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Six Feet Under




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