FOX congratulates Jennifer Love Hewitt and Calista Flockhart for their People's Choice Awards. Insert flatulent noise here.
For this episode, the powers that be have actually given us a reprieve from the perky vocals of Sarah or Romy. Instead of "okay, here's what you need to know," some unknown guy just says "previously on Time of Your Life." I guess they finally realized that there's such a thing as being toocutesy-tootsey. Now if they could just get rid of Sarah . . . So we get a recap of the Sarah-Spencer shut-out, J.B.'s admission of love to Romy the Duck-Billed Platypus, Platypus's recriminations when she discovers J.B.'s past life, and Maguire-Scraggle Rock's rejection (ain't it sweet?) of Sarah.
That's it, I've had it. I thought this show had surpassed common decency before, but they really went to the outer limits tonight by defiling my favorite movie of all-time, Now, Voyager. Jennifer, allow me to let you in on a little secret: Bette Davis has more class, talent, and beauty ashing off her cigarette than you ever will, regardless of how many network executives you flash your dinners to. Anyway, back to the ep (regrettably). After the movie ends, Sarah looks around in distaste at all the other teary-eyed women.
Romy the Duck-Billed Platypus has decided to give her career some attention -- for a change -- and is visiting with the agent we never knew she had. Arnetta The Agent tells Platypus that she's going to have to let her go. The upshot is: a. Platypus is a talentless flake, and b. she is bringing in no money, so c. Arnetta doesn't want to waste her time. Platypus is stunned. How come I'm not? Oh, and by the way? Get a clue, Jennifer Love Shrewitt -- it is going to take more than swiping Estelle The Agent characteristics from Friends to turn your paltry venture into one-millionth the success that show is.
Next scene is Joss brown-nosing and begging to get her job back at the bar. Boss-Man Mike holds firm.
Sarah explains to Platypus how it felt to be one of the many teary-eyed chicks in the movie theatre: "It was just me and twenty-five other women sitting there completely alone, and it occurred to me: they are me, I am them, we are one." As usual, Platypus has to quack forth with the challenge that she wins in the life-crisis category: "Hel-lo? Mine is so much worse. This was supposed to be the year I get my career into high gear and now I have no agent. We're what? Ten days into the New Year and already all of my resolutions are shot: career, exercise, diet. Shot. Maybe if I were in love..." Joss flounces up to join them and their pity-fest. She got her job back but not her old shift: "So now I'm stuck working mostly days, which means sucky tips and having my nights free to contemplate the vast arid desert that is my love life," Joss complains. The Three Weird Sisters look over at a table and witness a happy couple kissing. Platypus tries to rouse them to action by saying they all have control of their lives and therefore can make them better: "We're attractive, eligible women in a city full of attractive, eligible men. How hard can it be to meet someone?" she asks. Joss asks her if she is being rhetorical. Platypus says they can make it into a competition, first one who gets kissed wins. Wins what? Weenie of the year? Joss scoffs that it's too 1950s to make it a kissing competition and Sarah snipes back, "Oh, what do you want, Joss? The first one to contract an STD?" Platypus continues, as though Sarah never said anything (which is how I yearn to proceed through life), "The first one to get kissed and feel their pulse race." "Their palms sweat," Joss adds, getting into the mood. "Their arches itch," Sarah says. Platypus looks revolted and pushes the bowl of popcorn away from her: "I'm in." "I'm in," Joss agrees. They both look at Sarah, who says, "What the hell?" If she's going to be kissing people, then someone had better get her some Gold Bond Medicated Powder for her stanky, itchy arches.
Oh, look, new credits. Not. Gee, I wonder how much money JLH is paying Pauley Perrette for her three seconds on camera.