Chris's Crack House. Adriana reads in bed, but when she hears the door open, she quickly snuggles under the covers and puts a wet towel over her forehead in the international sign for "I'm very sick, and also dripping on the pillow." Seriously. Who actually does the towel-on-the-forehead thing outside of TV and the movies? Chris comes in, all excited about their dinner at Tony's house that night, and is initially unwilling to accept that Adriana might be too ill to attend. And not just because she's so obviously lying about it, either. "You have to go," he whines. "This is the inner sanctum here. I'm not just a relative anymore. You think Paulie and his goomahs ever get invited to dinner with them?" Now that's a mental image that would truly frighten me if I didn't miss Paulie so damn much. Somebody tell Sirico to pop a Vicodin and get his ass down to the set. Realizing that his magical evening was not meant to be, Christopher grabs his paraphernalia out of the nightstand, and heads into the living room to shoot up. "Nothing ever goes my way," he sighs.
At Bobby's house, a dinner of an entirely different sort is being served by Janice. Although we do learn later that it was cooked by Carmela, so maybe it's not all that different. Anyway, Janice is doing a terrible job of trying to both chat up Bobby's kids and finagle her own invitation to stay and eat. Bobby finally extends said invitation, and Janice immediately hustles the kids into the living room to eat in front of the TV. Bobby Jr. could totally be Robert Iler's pre-diet little brother, by the way. Once the kids are gone, she sits down next to Bobby and gently chides him for not taking care of Uncle Junior's business. She also implies that he could get whacked for not fulfilling his responsibilities. Or even worse, that he could become "a nobody." "I don't care anymore," answers Bobby. "I don't care if I live or die." "We lose that luxury when we have children," replies Janice, in what may be the only true statement she makes all week. She tells him about how hard it was when her husband left, and how she had "both barrels of a shotgun in [her] mouth" until she remembered her son Harpo. Hee! Harpo. As much as I just hate Brenda, I love to hate Janice. On the other hand, she was living in Seattle back then, so where was Kurt Cobain when we needed him? Janice reaches out to rub Bobby's shoulder as she tells him how much she, er, Uncle Junior loves him, and then proceeds to convince him to stop moping around and get back up on the horse. So to speak. ["For the horse's sake, let's hope so." -- Sars]