It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age that gave us plenty of dinners, it was the age that left us barren of quality acting; it was the season of bad highlights, it was the season of overly dark eye makeup -- in short, an episode so much like all the other episodes that I felt compelled to make a change, for good or for evil, and give up my usual alcohol for aromatherapy. I start this evening with a stimulating bouquet of eucalyptus.
The luckless and lipful Platypus gives us the voice-over this week, callously relating the ups and downs of Sarah and herself (thoughtfully leaving Cecilia's and Joss's storylines out of it because, let's face it, how interesting or important can nearly dying, being made to drop out of a master's program, and becoming a godmother to a yet-unborn baby who will be named after you really be, compared to breakups with ex-addicts and ex-gigolos?). The one line I deemed worthy in Platypus's thick-lipped narrative: "Sarah came to New York feeling kind of cocky that she could handle things for herself." Beyond that, we all know too well and care too little that Platypus and J.B. broke up and that Scraggle dumped Sarah's bony butt.
Apparently, Christmas is over and Sarah's job as a personal shopper's assistant didn't gel, because she's working in the returns department with a pinched-faced woman who drawls, "I'm not really listening to you, " after Sarah babbles, "You think I'd be depressed -- first Christmas in my life that I didn't get a single present." Yeah, I guess those people who don't get anything, including food, clothes, and shelter at any time of year, really should start popping the Prozac. Sarah continues that she and her friends are "kind of Poverty 'R' Us." Wow, that's kind of a creative and appealing little phrase she thought up. That is, if you take away "-eative" and "-pealing," which leaves you with c-r-a-p. And how is it that Sarah doesn't get punched more often? Sarah comments how busy they seem to be, and the pinched-faced woman says they are short-handed because Sarah's friend didn't show up. Sarah babbles on, "Which is so unlike Romy. I mean, she was really excited when I told her that I got her this job. I had been working as a personal shopper for the past few weeks when --" "When they fired you for talking so much?" asks her pinched-faced co-worker. Snort. Sarah contradicts her, "No, actually I had some issues [oh, honey, you've got so many issues, you could be your own daily paper] with the whole department." Sarah goes on to say that Romy, the Duck-Billed Platypus from Mister Roger's Neighborhood of Make-Believe, has been depressed since her recent breakup with J.B., which is a long story (at this statement, her pinched-faced co-worker groans in agony), and that since Platypus is her best friend in New York (excuse me, "best friend"? Jeez, how does she treat her enemies?), they will be spending New Year's together. Sarah rambles along like a caffeinated hummingbird about how it's really important who you're with when the clock strikes twelve. Does she think it's cute to see how many words she can cram into one breath? Deciding to get back to her job, Sarah takes issue with the fact that a customer is returning a sweater that Sarah finds "incredibly gorgeous" and starts to scold her like a raw-boned, sunburned fishwife until her co-worker fixes her with a look of death. Oh, would that it had actually taken.