The Moltisanti love grotto. Back at home, Christopher leans back in his black pleather easy chair and smokes. "She seemed so down-to-earth for a Hollywood person," Adriana insists as she gets undressed in the living room. Christopher plays the "I'm not impressed" game. "What's with those clothes, is she in the fuckin' Addams Family?" Adriana throws her skirt at him and reminds him that Amy's suit was Prada. "If I was Greg, I wouldn't allow it. I mean look at you, you look like a fuckin' woman, not a bellhop." Adriana gets all excited and emphasizes with her stilettos. "Jon Favreau, he's great! He's also a writer. You should show him your script." "Swingers? He can suck my dick, that swings too." That's one of those funny yet disgusting quotes. Yuck. Adriana's prancing all over the apartment in her undies. "That acting class really rubbed you the wrong way," she points out. "I love movies, but I just want to be a player, I don't want to fuck around with all this other shit." You're in for a rude awakening, Christopher. Ninety-nine percent of the movie business is "this other shit." Adriana instructs him to be a player, then; go to the set and slip Favreau the script. "That's what they call it. Slipping the script." She's very jazzed to use the industry lingo. "Who knows? Would it be so fricking horrible to attend a premiere?" She gets her robe, finally, after what seems like hours of booty-cheeks programming. Christopher tells her he doesn't even have a script anymore to slip. Adriana's face gets all cat-that-ate-the-canary and she saucily swings her belt around. Adriana kept a copy. Christopher's all "I'm still not interested," but Adriana sits in his lap and is all "I believe in you." Thus the macking begins. Mack mack mack.
Fade into the Soprano Compound, just like the Bush compound except no Republicans. Pan over to the garage as birdies tweet away. In her car, Carmela puts her keys into the ignition, and the sideview mirror falls off. Hee. Cut to the parental wrath. AJ is in the kitchen, protesting it wasn't his fault. "You stole my car, where's the trust in this house?" Carmela is pacing back and forth in exasperation. Eep, I didn't know he was driving it without telling her on top of breaking it and not telling her. "When I get confirmed, I'm gonna be a man.