Anita changes the subject, noting that Russell "got in [her] face about [Claire's] show." Claire is secretly glad that people are talking about her when she's not around, because the classic narcissist suspects that everyone is anyway, but she has to pretend she's incredulous because...well, she's such a fucking victim. Anita tries to cast herself in the role of good guy in describing her fight, as she explains to Claire, "I was like, 'Whosever idea it was, and I don't fucking care, Claire ran with it.'" Anita? No, you didn't. In fact, here was the real conversation.
Anita: We're breaking up.
Russell: Claire stole my idea!
Anita: Shut up, fag.
Russell: Wanna do some blow and have sex?
Anita: Whatever. You have a small penis.
Russell: So, about the sex?
[Stage direction: And, really unsatisfying sex for all parties]
Even though they're fictional characters who don't actually exist off-camera, that was their conversation. Somehow I totally just know it.
Anita changes the subject again and tells Claire that she brought her a present. She takes out what looks like a small vial and wishes Claire "Happy fame!," which I had for dinner in Chinatown last night and which, yes, was delicious. For some instinctual reason, Claire knows it's cocaine, which proves my theory that the only thing that differs among kids who grow up in the suburbs is the amount of drugs they do. Claire walks over, following her nose because it always knows, and calling the coke "disco" because, suddenly, the dialogue is entirely out of Things to Do in Denver when You're Dead, for some reason. Anita asks Claire is she wants to do some before they take off, but Claire bemoans the fact that she has to go to the Mallory Gallery "and meet some huge, like, movie star...some celebrity woman wants to buy my stuff." Anita proclaims Claire "too cool for [her]," and Claire doesn't disagree at all. Friends don't like friends who like themselves.
It's Maya! And she's...talking! I think. It could be feedback. My TV's kind of old. Or it could be someone playing a Beatles album backwards. Sometimes I let some of the Manson kids crash here. Anyway, Maya is sitting across the table from Brenda "Such A Fucking Victim" Chenowith, who responds to whatever it is Maya says with "It's a fishtail!" Hey, whatever happened to that completely random patient of Brenda's who threatened to jump off a bridge? This show has really displayed such an economy of scale this season. Anyway, Nate "Such A Fucking Victim" enters in a tizzy, the weight of the world and all future plot development teetering on his shoulders, and barks, "I'm calling the lawyer again. Where's the phone?" If it's anywhere near your kind treatment of your partner, you've got quite a scavenger hunt ahead of you. Brenda thinks about doing that thing where one person talks and then another person talks and then you have a conversation, kicking off the sentiment, "He already told you...." But Nate remembers talking also, and he's going to do a whole lot of it starting right now: "He already said that Barb has no right to custody. But I just saw this article on the internet." He saw it "on the internet"? Seriously, no one talks like that unless they're using Claire's computer. Brenda reminds Nate that he's the father and Barb's the aunt, a genealogical fact (or...IS IT?) that nevertheless inspires Nate to snipe back, "You're not taking this seriously." Yeah, Brenda. Take off the hilarious clown mullet, because we're starting to believe that...oh, I see that is your real hair. As Nate dials one of those fake TV numbers, Brenda again warns him against living in a "constant state of panic," a sound piece of advice which inspires Nate to offer the rejoinder, "Well, that's easy for you to say. Maya's not yours." Zee-ouch. But Nate has to put on his fake phone voice just then, and upon acting as if he hears someone on the other end of the line, he continues, "Can you reach Mr. Sutcliffe for me, please?" If "Mr. Sutcliffe" is the name of Brenda's Psych 101 textbook, they patched him through and he's speaking through her: "This isn't about Maya. It's about your emotions and how you deal with them." Nate suggests that she stop using her "therapy voice" on him, and she stands up because the stage directions tell her to and shoots back, "How would you know. You've never tried therapy." He responds with the line that means you probably (a) are a man and (b) are a dick and (c) need therapy more than anyone else in the world when he lets her know, "I don't need therapy. It's not my fault there's a disaster every time I blink." Maybe it's not. Or maybe your chest hair works surreptitiously after you've gone to sleep. Sorry. I know that didn't make that much sense, but we're running out of season here and I wanted to make sure I got in one more dig about the chest hair. Carry on.