Maison de Soprano. "Sex agrees with you," observes Rosalie. "You look great." Then she asks how it was. "Well," replies Carmela, "I will say that he took his time." Man, she just can't stop bragging about that orgasm, can she? Ro wants all the gory details, but thankfully AJ enters just in time to spare us all from hearing about how Bob tickled her Bovaries. AJ is as surly as ever, and this time he's complaining about Counselor Bob, who pulled him out of class to discuss that Lord of the Flies term paper. "I didn't have my stuff with me," he explains, "so he puts his faggy hand on my shoulder and says, 'Do your best.'" Carmela thinks Bob was just trying to help. "Or maybe he's just a big homo," answers AJ. "Could be," replies Mom, with a knowing smile. She sends him upstairs to do his homework, but then in a quintessential display of Soprano parenting skills, she agrees to let him watch TV first, and then promises to help him do all the work later. And I think we all know that sentence would probably be a lot more accurate if you took out the words "help him." Once AJ leaves, Carmela looks up to see Rosalie sobbing at the end of the counter. Aww. She misses her Little Lord. And don't we all, really? Carmela moves in for the comforting hug, and Rosalie wails, "They never caught those chinks who killed him." And since this was the other big kerfuffle in the forums this week, I'll state emphatically for the record that she did say "chinks," and the always accurate closed captioning backs me up on that. But here's the thing: the word "chinks" was also very clearly dubbed in separately from the rest of the line. Make of that what you will. For now, I just want to observe a nice moment of silence for the fallen Poo Ass. Go with God, Jackie Jr. Go with God.
Out on the gritty, gritty streets of New Jersey, Diet Tony and Dr. Gina are walking home from a fun-filled night of whatever the hell these two do to pass the time. She's complaining about her day job (sing it, sister!), and he's being supportive, and they generally give the appearance of being a very happy couple together. Suddenly, a car comes squealing around the corner, and someone insides tosses a plastic bag into some nearby bushes before the car accelerates again down the street and out of sight. Tony and Dr. Gina both head over to investigate, and Tony grabs the bag and shouts "Holy fuck!" when he looks inside. Dr. Gina assumes it's a fetus, but Tony soon shows both her and us that the bag is filled with drugs and cash. Diet Tony figures that the guys in the car must have been drug dealers who thought they were being tailed by the police, so they ditched the evidence. Gina reminds Diet Tony that he's still on parole, so he tosses the drugs back in the bushes, and they run off together with the bag of money. As they round the next corner, Tony speculates that there must be at least ten or twelve thousand dollars in there. "You're doubly-blessed," observes Gina. Yeah, he but he certainly ain't barely seventeen. Or, thankfully, barely dressed. "I am gonna buy you a ring," he declares. "You are the sweetest, sweetest man," Dr. Gina replies. "But you should put it into the business." Wow. That was the nicest no to a marriage proposal I've ever heard in my life. And believe me, I've heard plenty. Diet Tony, however, isn't even fazed by her apparent rejection, and agrees that putting the money into the massage ghageh would definitely be the best course of action. They kiss to end the scene, and here's where I call bullshit on the entire enterprise. Drug dealers don't throw cash out the window like that no matter who might be chasing them, and happy couples walking down the street don't stop to investigate garbage bags tossed from passing cars. I think someone on the writing staff just arbitrarily took an idea they had about finding money somewhere and tried to graft it onto this whole "Tony B returns to the mob life" storyline, and it just doesn't work. But whatever. It's still better than watching Carmela and Furio cry all the time.