In 2007, Matt's bouncing that same ball. Is that a tennis ball? What NASA engineer/Wonka factory employee designed it? It's the Everlasting Gobstopper of tennis balls. He knocks on Diana Valdes's door, and she invites him in, even though she's only half-dressed. So you already know she's not to be trusted. Matt thanks her for filling in for The White Stripes when they cancelled again. She thanks Matt for using an "unknown" like her tonight. He asks her about the lyrics and the fact they're all so sad. She says that she writes from a sad place a lot. He asks how she's able to work when she feels like that. She says that she's able to drink when she feels like that, and that helps. Yeah, we can all see where this is going, can we not? So Delilah of the Substance Abuse over here stops Matt before he can leave and suggests that he carry around eye drops for days like this: "Your pupils are dilated." Matt tries to make excuses, but she's, like, the goddess of chemical dependency, so she knows high when she sees it. She starts off on a tangent about "Schedule II narcotics" and how they do such fucked-up things to your dreams. Okay, Schedule II narcotics are cannabis and hashish, and Matt's taking pills, so what the fuck? The sum total of my drug knowledge could be crammed into a pipe, lit, and smoked slowly, but this seems like an easy one. (And actually, I know even less than that, because everything I just wrote is an utter lie, like, THANKS Wikipedia. No wonder Aaron Sorkin hates the internet.) Anyway, we'll just go with it: so the Schedule II narcotics tend to make Delilah of the Substance Abuse dream these really vivid dreams that she could swear were real, to the point where she's imagined conversations that she's sworn actually happened. The music right now is going all "Ooooooo," so you're officially on the hook if you didn't figure out the Tim Batale thing by now. Delilah assembles a gift pack of pills (she calls them "you know what they are," and suggests that Matt take them with a glass of wine) for Matt, but he Just Says No, until Delilah's seductive smile and bedeviling cleavage wear down his defenses. He takes the pill and awkwardly backs out the door. Matt's on the junk! Some more!
1999. Matt rushes into the writers' room, where Harriet's just finished reading the Neve Campbell sketch. She loved it, and calls him "Matthew," which I've always found endearing. Luke's there, too, and wants to make sure she didn't love it more than "Singing Teacher." "Do I have to like one more than the other?" asks Harriet. "Yes," says Luke, immediately. Matt says that both sketches can go in "the stack." "The Stack" would be the pile of sketches Tobolowsky is collecting at this very moment. He notes that both Matt and Luke's sketches feature Harriet, and hey! Did you hear she's new and unlikely to get a sketch on the air? Because I suspect she is! Tobolowsky says that while it's very unlikely that either sketch will make it on the air, it's a stone-cold lock that they won't both make it. We go to commercial with Matt and Luke on either side of a conference table. Would you believe Harriet's situated at the head of that table? It's like she's in the middle of these two guys or something. Weird.