Oh. My. God. Kia is covering the hole in the ceiling with an ivy wallpaper border. Just in a big rectangle around the ceiling fan fixture. It's the most idiotic use of a border yet. She's happy, because she didn't think she was going to be able to "get [her] border in." Gabe, inexplicably, encourages her, saying it's an "incredible solution." He adds that it looks good, and that it looks like it's intentional: "It doesn't look like it's an ad-lib at all." No, more like a bad-lib.
Michael and Amy stuff pillow covers made of wine-coloured, sequined fabric. Hildi, Liza Minnelli called and she wants her sheets back.
Gabe hangs some pots on the old trombone, which is suspended from the ceiling by two pieces of chain. Frink grumbles about the idiocy of having only two attachment points. Lee and Gabe agree that it's very precarious. Gabe decides it's okay and keeps putting hooks onto it. There are two pots on it already. When he adds the fourth hook -- just a hook, mind you, not a pot -- the whole thing falls down on their heads with a clatter. Ever notice how many of Kia's half-assed projects just suddenly up and commit suicide? Gabe gets off the ladder and throws a hook in frustration, yelling, "Fuck!"
Michael and Amy continue working on pillows. Man, pillow-stuffing is a yawn.
Gabe tries to hang the stupid trombone pot rack back up again. While four attachment points would help, the shape of this thing totally does not lend itself to that. It's a very stupid project. Didn't Amy and Michael already have a larger pot rack that was functioning just fine? I can't remember now. At this point, after sixty episodes, if you think I'm going back to check, you're high on something. Why spend money on a grotty old trombone that's hardly going to provide any storage? Seriously, I'd like to hear the answer. Gabe says he fixed it with toggle bolts. Kia heckles him from the background about how to orient the thing.
Hildi starts covering the floor with spray adhesive for the foam "carpet." Of course, the windows are shut (probably painted that way) and the door is shut, too. Goodbye, brain cells. Not that Hildi's got all that many left, but I'm worried for Amy. Hildi rambles on about where she bought the foam and how she got the idea and then glues the first square down and dances on it, pronouncing it "too cool." She says it feels like "turf on a football field." Yeah, that's appealing.
MPDP helps to Kia remove the seat of the diner bench so that they can cover it with vinyl. MPDP asks what they're doing with the back of the seat. Kia shows her some of that "whirly-swirly, multicolored, Holiday Inn bedspread fabric" (tm mieledio) she loves so much. It's very fugly. Seriously, someone needs to pinch Kia and tell her it's 2003. Practically everything about her taste reflects an obsession with the aesthetic worst of the '70s and '80s. Join us here in the twenty-first century, anytime. Kia says that the fabric has all of their spice colours in it: "Little tarragon, little mints...little cumin..." Kia talks about the vinyl they're putting on the seat, which she calls "mustard." MPDP: "Yes...mustard seed!" Except it's mustard yellow, not mustard-seed brown. Kia cracks a pun: "Mustard seat."