Woke up this morning, and the Soprano family suddenly relocated to suburban Minnesota. Go figure. I grew up in Minnesota, and Carmela's taste in decorating is suspiciously similar to the inhabitants of Wayzata, Excelsior, and perhaps Minnetonka, MN. Maybe there's a Nordic Mafia. My high school boyfriend mowed lawns for a Swede who owned a Confederate flag. Not that I condone that. Not that Tony supports the Confederacy. Not that I'm defending the mob. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Except everything. Eep. Oh, help.
Bahama Skies. An establishment the Church Lady might say offers cost-effective "tanning while your naughty parts are all a-tingle" business, complete with graffiti and fluorescent palm-tree accents. Christopher and Adriana pull up in the Lexus, and Adriana singsongs that if he's late, they won't refund her money. What, is she paying to have him serviced at this whorehouse? Ew. I mean, she looks pimpish in her endangered snow-leopard spandex, but really. But I'm wrong -- Christopher just has some business he must attend to. Or rather, some crap he must beat out of someone. Inside, various hoochies who I suspect were transferred from Bada Bing for this episode stand around looking bored in bikinis while frat-boy pituitary cases egg each other on. Ew again. An older Asian hoochie in a not tasteful hot pink dress with matching (and showing) hot pink brassiere leads Christopher into a back room. An ugly, more redneck-ish Sam Shepard on a bender tries to make small talk with him, but Christopher points out the coke all over Sam's upper lip, saying he looks like he's been "French kissing the Pillsbury doughboy." Snorting of nose, wiping of lip, Christopher demands his money, manila envelope exchange, Ugly Sam Shepard is short for the third week in a row and thus is in for an open can of whoop-ass. Except Asian Hoochie flares her nostrils pretty scarily and screams, "Business slow, we sell you!" Now, she apparently attempted to say "tell" or even "told," but I heard "sell." Love that stereotypical broken English.
Cut to Adriana's crusty blood-red talons, with cigarette and gold glob ring, honking the horn. She has French braids. Cute, if you're a gymnast or on a rural women's basketball team. She should spray her bangs up next time. Anyway, Asian Hoochie blathers on, and her punchline is "we pay no more!" which makes Ugly Sam Shepard shove her out of the room and Christopher attack him with his paintbrush. No, I'm not mistaken. It's a paintbrush, and it's in Ugly Sam Shepard's nose. He squeals and pleads like a stuck pig that he's sorry -- all due to the prospect of paint up his nose, and I have to giggle fiendishly. Christopher yells that Ugly Sam Shepard has money for blow, but not for him, and that business is not slow, "half the fucking neighborhood's out there waiting for blow jobs." Then Christopher wins the hypocrite award by calling Ugly Sam Shepard a drug addict mofo, and sits him down on whatever the hell kind of model plane, train, or automobile he was making. Hey, Christopher, what is that stuff you've been known to smoke, snort, and inject? Eep. Issues. Scolding Ugly Sam Shepard, Christopher bounces out, and I'm reminded of George Jefferson. That makes Adriana Weezy. Hee.