Jill Price-Gray is now drunk and noshing on Famous Amos and complaining wildly about how she works very incredibly hard; there are about ten bottles of wine on the taint and she asks Andy to open another one, but he's confused by her rabbit. I have seen the consternation on the faces of people with the rabbit in their hands before, flummoxed by its symmetry and the elusive ease of its use: you pull the top lever up -- the "rabbit" shape comes from the top lever, I have no idea what these are really called -- and clamp the pincers around the neck of the bottle, don't be afraid to hold it tightly, and then you force the ears of the rabbit back toward its back, forcing the corkscrew into the cork, and then the really insane part happens, it gets easier and more amazing than you could have imagined, because you pull the one chrome ear back forward again, pulling the cork somehow straight up, out of the bottle, then you put the bottle down or begin serving, and then more amazingly you repeat the whole process again, forward and back on the ear lever, which causes the cork to come spinning back off the corkscrew. You must not use the rabbit on a rubber cork. It doesn't work like that.
Jill thinks of herself as a "little elf" that feeds the family and takes the twins to Irish Step-Dancing Class and works ceaselessly in the background, opening the bottles and doing all the dirty work that nobody else can see or even wants to know about. She feels like a passenger and a stage manager and the underclass in her own life; this is a terrible fate she is describing, spread out across random edits as they sit on the couch and she spits out random parts of the ceaseless monologue, the brightest and funniest bits: "They take and they take... and they bike" -- and mourns the loss of her entire life, job and friends, all gone, and for what? So that she and Andy can be magically underappreciated elves?
Jill asks a dozen times if she's talking too much, she's not talking too much but it's been so long since anybody listened to her she feels like any amount of talking is too much talking; the wine is making her forget herself. They don't even care, Nancy and Scott, about the elves that they, Andy and Jill, are; Andy says this is allowed because they are "so cute," and Jill spits that they, Andy and Jill, are cute too, which means that Andy is cute, which means that Jill has noticed Andy is cute and on some level would like him to know that, and also to acknowledge it and in some way return the favor; she moves on to Nancy: "I do love her, she's my sister, but she's... Miserable. Am I talking too much? [still: no] A miserable cunt," in fact, she says daringly. That word.