"So I solved a major problem, business-wise," Tony gloats to Melfi. "Put a very good piece of manpower to work." He's apparently already told her all about Diet Tony, including the infamous "Tony Uncle Al" anecdote, although he does manage to break at least some new ground by also revealing the news about Little Lord Smartypants's high IQ. "Do you put a lot of stock into that number?" asks Melfi. "Why?" wonders Tony. "Are you going to tell me it's bullshit?" Dude. Paul Hogan, Madonna, and Marilyn Monroe made the Top Ten list. That answers the "bullshit" question pretty definitely, if you ask me. Melfi parries this by asking if it's safe to assume that Fat Tony thinks Diet Tony is smarter than Fat Tony is. "Honestly," replies Tony. "I think he's smarter than you, the way you keep shitting on the test." Heh. Even Melfi cracks a "yeah, right" smile at that one. Tony then smiles himself for a completely different reason, and changes the subject by announcing that he slept with Carmela. "It was nice," he explains. Very...erotic." And I suppose it was, in a highly-chlorinated, Patsy Parisi's piss sort of way. But then Tony has to spoil it by adding, "Poor thing was starved for it, honestly. I'm the only man she's ever been with." Oh, the irony. Oh, the Bovary. Melfi tries to delve deeper into what all this might mean, but they're interrupted by Tony's cell phone, and he actually answers the call and tells her to wait. Melfi looks shocked, and I kind of was too, because the only other time I can remember him taking a call during a session was during the "busy season" of football gambling. This one, however, is obviously about a different topic altogether, because Tony's side of the conversation consists of him complaining that he's got "fax machines coming out of [his] ass." Now that's an irritable bowel.
While Tony meets with his therapist, Carmela meets with her new divorce lawyer. When asked if she would describe the separation as amicable, she instead describes it as "barely civil." And not at all erotic, I guess. That's good enough for Lawyer Guy, who turns back to the paperwork and says that he'll review their tax returns and investments to start working on an agreement. "I'm a little concerned that the returns don't really reflect everything," confesses Carmela. "There is other income." "Unreported income?" gasps Lawyer Guy, in a tone of ridiculously indignant shock that you or I might reserve for questions like "He molested how many children?" or "You do know that's on network television, right?" He then tries to determine whether this evil unreported income is derived from an "illegal stream," but Carmela just falls back on the old "carting business" cover story. Lawyer Guy tells Carmela all about some forensic accountant he hired to go after a vending-machine magnate, and promises that they'll soon get to the bottom of Tony's financial situation. In my own imagination, by the way, I like to pretend that the "forensic accountant" is actually Gil Grissom's thinner and significantly less bearded cousin Gil, who secretly covets Gil Uncle Moonves's insect collection and has an ambiguously perverted/paternal relationship with Liam the Lab Tech. But that's just me.