I did not like this part very much because it was too real. We didn't have vajazzling back then, just henna tattoos and Sarah McLachlan and the girl that would pull out her pubes with a tweezer whenever she was "bored." See what I mean? What's the point of all those drugs if you can still remember things like that?
Aw, speaking of. Nathalie's back at Chez Lesbian, appealing to Linda Hamilton "as a woman, as a mother, as a fellow female traveler on the road," which road Linda correctly identifies with as the one paved with bullshit. "No cash, no shake. Don't let the hairy legs fool you, this is a capitalist enterprise." Nathalie offers to babysit, or go down on her.
"Joking. Mostly joking. That was lame. It would have worked with a man. Men are easy. Men are the Monday crossword. But women, we're... Sunday. That's why they die before us. The poor fuckers, they blow a gasket after a lifetime of trying to figure out the magnificent organism that is woman. How to make us happy. But really, I'll go down on you. I'm desperate here." And as great as Nathalie is, Linda's just a bit better tonight: "And chatty!"
Fiona comes in screaming in that squeaky little voice of hers about how she hates hitting every taqueria in town to beg for their used oil to make their pretend car work, and Nathalie's been there for awhile I guess because when Fiona asks about Kish she knows the answer: "He peed in the fish pond." Again. So I guess he's in his Contemplation Corner. Linda goes, "Can I have a kiss?" and Fiona hisses, "Can I have a real car?" before running off to yell at Kish about appropriate urination locations. Linda sends Nathalie away, still awkwardly flirting into space like a shortwave radio signal that nobody will ever hear.
There's a cute moment back in the hotel kitchen where Randy shuts Nathalie up about her loss of drug-dealing confidence with a deep-fried something. "In what?" Nathalie asks innocently, and Randy's like, "In panther blood. What do you mean?" Because obviously she's been asking for the hotel's used cooking oil for awhile, and I don't know enough about kitchens to know why this is a big deal, but apparently used oil can't just be handed out to whatever lesbians need it for their locomotion. I mean, I guess I get that you can't just toss it out into the sink or the environment or whatever, but I think there's a reason they would want to hang onto it, and I don't know what that reason is, and I don't really wish to. "It's the property of the hotel," Randy says, and that's good enough for me. But why suddenly is Randy bothered by "questions of legality or morality"? Well, he's had his Eat Pray Love post-flail bliss moment.