The workshop went… well, it went. Ivy cried about how she's not famous yet, Tom and Derek flirted madly, and Karen participated in the least Marilyn Monroe-like thing this super not Marilyn Monroe-like show has done thus far.
Everyone is still flailing about in the aftermath of the workshop, either trying to get back to their old lives and jobs or trying to salvage the SS I Heart DiMaggio. Mostly this involves sipping brown liquors and staring ponderously at things. Karen, back to waitressing, lands a bizarre green-screen-based orange juice commercial. Ivy gobbles handfuls of pills and returns miserably to her chorus gig in Heaven & Earth, where, in tip-top Marilyn style, she collapses in a drug-addled haze. The braintrust of Eileen, Derek, Julia, and Tom kick around ideas on how to fix the show, including renaming it, casting a movie star, or maybe picking a concept that doesn't have quite so many cobwebs on it. Wait, they totally don't do that last one, because that would be logical.
Julia's husband finds incriminating sheet music that reveals her affair with Not Adam Pascal, and confronts her with all of his wounded wannabe science teacher dignity. Frank's on a confronting roll, so then he decides to threaten Not Adam Pascal, who makes everything so much worse by revealing that the super-unsanitary rehearsal-room couch tryst wasn't the extent of the affair, and gets socked in the kisser for his trouble. Frank packs a bag and moves out of the brownstone as Julia and dreary Leo flail.
Terrible bow-tied henchman Ellis continues his scheming, trying to worm his way into the acquaintance of the celebrities on the braintrust's wishlist. Apparently there's nothing he won't do to get "Rebecca Duvall" (future guest star Uma Thurman) to play Marilyn -- including validating all of us who squawked, "Wait, Ellis is STRAIGHT?" when he was in bed with that girl last week.
Tom finds out that his hot lawyer boyfriend his mom set him up with is a Republican, and the sex must have gotten much better than that first lousy shag, because he shows up a fundraiser for Lawyer John's former roommate, who is running for Congress as a gay Republican in New York. Uh-huh. Later, while waiting for Ivy to call him back after her happy pills breakdown, Tom and Ambiguously Gay Chorus Boy stay up all night eating toast and flirting madly. This bodes poorly for the chuppah Tom's mom has already rented.
Karen is trying on sunglasses at home with Dev, asking him to pick which pair makes her look most like a famous movie star. The answer is none of them, Karen. Because you are a boring, dead-eyed cipher. She mumbles a bit to Dev about her audition and then trying to get back to her waitressing job.
Over at Ivy's Palace of Lounging in Bed With Hot Englishmen, Ivy reaches over a sleeping, unshaven, delicious Derek for her phone. She has an audition. It can't possibly be the same one that Karen's going to, can it?!
In the Brooklyn Brownstone of Betrayal, Julia's husband, Shrek, has prepared a healthy and tasty breakfast for his cheating wife and ungrateful son. Poor Shrek. Julia apologizes while shoving a strawberry in her mouth, and tells Shrek the adoption papers are by the bed.
At Tom's gorgeous classic six, Tom is moaning about how Ivy won't return his calls as Hot Lawyer John tightens his tie. Because that's what every handsome gay man wants to hear from his boyfriend: all about the woman who's ignoring him. Now you know how Peter Allen's twinks always felt, Lawyer John. The two try to plan their week, which is all court, court, auditioning houseboys, court, writing a song about Arthur Miller, rinse, repeat. John awkwardly admits that he's busy on Thursday because he's attending a political benefit. And this is where Tom finds out, à la Bridget Jones, that he's been shagging a Republican. He is predictably (and expectedly) horrified.
Shrek finds the adoption paperwork on Julia's bedside table, along with some sheet music, and from the way he's reading the lyrics, it's clear that Julia has basically written "La la la la, please do me on a couch in the rehearsal room, Michael Swift." I suppose with that kind of phrasing, Tom might find it difficult to write a melody, but it's a working draft.
Ivy and Ambiguously Gay Chorus Boy have met at a diner, and as he's cataloging all the aches and pains that come with dancing for a living, Ivy pulls a Judy Garland's worth of pill bottles out of her purse. Prednisone, Ambien, Klonopin, Thorazepam, "some new stuff." Ambiguously Gay Chorus Boy (whose name is Sam, just to make this a touch easier) swears he's not judging the fact that Ivy's a walking pharmacy, but when your friends wave their Klonopin in your face, maybe you warn them that when they're angling for the lead in a show about Marilyn effing Monroe, they should probably stay away from the barbiturates.