Swingtown

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"Fondue, Anyone?"

A little while later, the room's denuded of its wallpaper and people are writing all over the walls. Roger's just come back in and a tiddly Bruce calls out to him. He asks what happened, and Brad says, "Susan had what you'd call 'a breakthrough.'" And Gail's just had what we call "a coke whore moment," as she's just arranged to party with Mareno in exchange for some blow.

We cut to the library, where Doug and Laurie are busy reading excerpts of literary love letters to one another. You know, the usual teacher-student interactions. Also, did you know that Bob Dylan now qualifies as literary.

At the Millers', Sam pops back into BJ's room and hands back the walkie-talkie, saying, "I never asked for it! I don't need you looking out for me. Because I'm not your girlfriend!" BJ protests that Ricky hung that label on her, not him. Sam protests that BJ should give Ricky half the money, and BJ says, "No way! I'm grounded because of him! He's being an ass." Sam heads over to the window, and what she sees makes her stop. She tells BJ, "It's because he's scared." BJ comes over to watch Gail chatting up Moreno, and asks what Ricky's scared of. "It sucks when you're the one who's left behind," Sam tells him. And The Children, Won't Someone Think of the Children? plotline rolls on.

We switch back to the home-movies perspective. Susan and Sylvia are fighting each other to a draw on tic-tac-toe, Tom's outlined Trina on the wall, there's graffiti regarding the pigs-in-a-pickle, and Janet's nowhere near the action. She's busy cleaning things up and trying fondue. To her horror, she likes it. Oh, no! The scarlet woman can cook!

Susan comes in then to apologize to Janet: "I know how much work you've put into this party." Janet is not going to be gracious about it: "Maybe next time, you should call a caterer. Clearly you can afford one." You know, I want to like Janet, but she makes it so hard sometimes. Susan reminisces about their first housewarming -- Roger helped Bruce assemble a table out of plywood while Janet helped Susan sew a tablecloth out of drapes -- and finishes, "Times sure have changed." "Not for me and Roger," Janet says flatly. See? So. Hard. (But I do love how she illustrates one of the perils of socioeconomic mobility -- the hostility that comes from the people you "leave behind.") Susan asks Janet to write something on the wall in the living room. Janet demurs: "I have nothing to say." "Since when?" Susan asks. She's pressing her suit on the graffiti when Trina comes in raving about the rosy perfection salad. And thus the two mortal enemies reach a cautious culinary d├ętente.

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Swingtown

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