We pick up with a little beefcake montage of Chandler blasting his quads and...umm...obliterating his pecs. This may be one bit of acting he can pull off convincingly. Edward the Butler arrives with a glass of OJ, and informs Master Chandler that Heather has decided to spend the day in bed. Edward's actually got a pretty cool accent and sounds just like Obi-Wan Kenobi (the Sir Alec Guiness version, of course).
We find Heather right where Edward said she'd be -- in bed. She's on the phone with her publicist: she's happy with the Women's Style cover spread, but she wants bigger magazines and name interviews. If she gets Matt Lauer, Heather will be a very happy girl. Doesn't sound too hard. For a groundbreaking idea like selling clothes over the internet, I'm sure that Annie Leibowitz, P.J. O'Rourke, and Vanity Fair will be pounding down her door any day now. We could guarantee the cover of Talk, but she'd have to do a Miramax movie first. Before hanging up, Heather demands that Samantha get no press whatsoever. Chandler comes in, still sweaty, and wants to know if she's okay. She's just been sleepier these days. It's probably depression. Just in case Chandler and the audience have both forgotten, she reminds him that Richard's death and the miscarriage are two really bad things to have happen in a month. He reminds her that she's not alone in all of this, and she marvels at how amazingly sensitive he is. Here's his pep talk: he's got his aviation project and she's back at DoYouReallyCareAnymore.com, so they're both going to focus on their work and keep their priorities straight. GO TEAM! Woohoo! Where are the cheerleaders? And what about the times where she's not feeling so fresh or she needs to talk? "Then you can come to me," Chandler offers. "That's the most amazing invitation," Heather declares. That's also the second time she's said "amazing" in the past thirty seconds.