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“Exes & Ohs” Recaps: Episode 1.2 “Roads Previously Not Taken”

Before we get started with this week’s episode, I wanted to thank the keen viewers who clarified two points about last week’s recap. First, you reported that Crutch said “lingerie model,” and not “a little melodramatic.” It’s so not like me to miss someone, anyone, saying the words “lingerie model.” I don’t know what happened.

Also, the woman at the wedding was Nadine Ellis, who by the by, happens to be a former Pussycat Doll. Meow. The reverend was played by Tony-nominated actor Sheryl Lee Ralph. Apparently, my eyes are no better than my ears. Once, I thought I saw a really hot dyke walking down the street, but it turned out to be Tobey Maguire.

Moving on. In Episode 1 last week, Jennifer endured her ex’s nuptials to her former therapist and had an exotic bird almost crap on her head for her trouble. She did, however, get some spring-cleaning done when she gave used cookware as a wedding gift.

Jennifer’s BFF (and ex), Sam, had a smoldering piece of sum’em named Becca, whose days are numbered because Sam suffers from RADD: Relationship Attention Deficit Disorder. Kris and Chris, Seattle’s Happiest Lesbian Couple Wearing Matching Sweaters Without a Shred of Irony, run an online pet supply biz.

And then there’s purple-haired Crutch, the group’s mascot. Crutch might be an amalgam of Crazy Butch or Crunchy Bitch or Cruel Itch, or something equally whackfabulous.

Birds of a feather – Jen is selling copies of her latest documentary, a snoozer about water fowl called Bird Watchers, at the bar where Sam works as a bartender. Chris, Kris and Crutch are hanging out to support their friend. First, it was poker in the coffee café and now it’s documentary sales in a bar. Do we even want to know where they do their laundry?

Jen tells the lesbian couple perusing her little display table, “Bird Watchers is the first DVD with the Great Blue Heron mating ritual,” because that’s her biggest selling point. “And then the herons, they mate for life?” asks one half of the couple, giddily hoping for affirmation from the animal world. I admire animals who eat their young, but that’s just me. Jen rings up a sale and promises there will be even more herons in Bird Watcher 2. More Herons. Naked.

Sam brings Jen and the gang a round of shots, because what good is being a bartender if you can’t comp your pals? Sam is awesome. They all raise their glasses. To the sequel! Bird Watchers Reloaded. Or Son of Bird Watchers. Or Bird Watch Harder. Jen is less than psyched at the prospect of doing another nature film about herons, but only because she hasn’t heard my Oscar® buzz-worthy titles.

Jen: This isn’t exactly the height of my cinematic expression. Sam: [deadpan] Will the sequel be as exciting at the original?
Again, Sam is awesome.

Crutch reports the day’s sales figures: seven. Crutch is crabby today. She received an ultimatum from her mother: Move back to Bakersfield and work in a cube farm in an insurance company, or get cut off financially. Mothers and their blackmail. Insidious.

And then, right on cue, Mrs. Crutch calls. Crutch excuses herself for another round of Mother May I (Have Some More Money While I Work on My Art?).

Looking at her table of educational wares, Jen’s not feeling her artistic integrity these days, either.

Jen: I should be doing Fahrenheit 9/11 or Super Size Me, An Inconvenient Truth. You know, documentaries that make a difference. Kris: Bird Watchers 2 will make a difference. To bird watchers and the people who love them.
Not to mention the people who get off watching herons doing it.

Sam tells Jen she should do something she actually loves and asks, “What about the sex movie you’re always talking about?” Now you’re talking. Where’s the good porn we were promised? OK, I know – no one promised us good porn. But isn’t it time?

Jen: It’s not a sex movie. It’s about women’s power in today’s society. You know? Like the Pussycat Dolls or Britney Spears … strippers. You know. Are they being exploited or doing the exploiting? Are they empowered or unempowered?
Ugh. Lesbians and our earnest desire to analyze everything to death. I do love how Jen lumps Britney Spears in with the strippers, though. Leave strippers alone! Crutch returns and tells the girls, yup, the old lady finally did it: She’s been cut off. Sam hands her another shot “on the house.” Crutch can be roommates with that other cut-off, no-office-skills-having lesbian, Helena.

How to pick up women — Jen and Sam are at a bookstore in the Cultural Theory section doing research for Jen’s upcoming exposé about strippers and Britney Spears. Sam offers Becca’s help, since she’s working vice now. I don’t remember anyone saying Becca was a cop last week, but that’s fine.

Sam also casually mentions Becca’s not speaking to her anymore. That’s not fine. No more Cathy DeBuono? Really? Thanks a lot, Sam.

Jen’s selection includes Selling Sex: A Case Study. Is that the new Jenna Jameson bio? Other real titles she might want to consider: The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Amazing Sex, How to Have Sex in the Woods and The Pop-up Book of Sex.

Sam pleads: “Oh. Please. Don’t make sex boring.” Sam suggests bailing on Bird Watchers 2 and just starting on the sex movie, now that Jen has a little nest egg (nest egg, get it?) from Bird Watchers 1. Jen reminds Sam that she, too, has a nest egg and should pursue her dream of becoming a real estate mogul. Sam says she wants to do more research, such as getting advice from real estate agents. Jen retorts that real estate knowledge doesn’t rub off on her just because she’s sleeping with real estate agents.

Sam: Not every fixer-upper will end up turning a profit. You have to invest in the right house, and I haven’t found it yet.
“House” is code for “girl.”

Jen advises Sam to carpe the diem because her own mom died at 35. “You never know how long you have,” she says, placing a copy of Remodeling for Profit in her hands. Do as the bird lady says, not as she does.

At homo with Chris and Kris — Kris answers the phone in a baby-talk voice: “Just for Doggies!” As she takes a sales order for some leashes, Chris comes barging into their kitchen excitedly, holding a scruffy dog in her arms.

Chris: Oh, my God. Krissy. Oh, my God. Oh, my God! You are not going to believe who I saw at the store. Get off the phone! Get off the phone! Get off the phone! Kris: [into the phone] OK. I’ll call you back. Chris: Amelia and Zoë. And get this — they got married and they’re pregnant! Kris: We never thought they’d last two weeks. Chris: I know. And Zoë found this little guy [holds up the dog] wandering around. So, I said we’d find him a good home. Who’s a good dog? Kris: He’s a cutie … They got married?
The wheels start turning imperceptibly in Kris’ head. Hmm. Two women who are not meant for each other got married? And they’re pregnant? (Yeah, that never happens.) If they can do it …

Bookstore bargains — Back at the bookstore, Sam and Jen wait in the checkout line. A cute blond standing behind them is reading book titles over Jen’s shoulder. “Looking to make a career change?” she asks, all friendly and stuff. Jen smiles and says something about same career, different direction. Sam butts in, “She’s making a sex movie.”

“It’s a documentary!” Jen adds quickly.

Sam and Jennifer have a silent but meaningful eye conversation and throw hard glances at the blond. As they walk out of the store, Sam asks if there was an exchange of digits.

Sam: Get her number? Jen: She didn’t … Sam: She didn’t, but what happens to “time flies, seize the day”? Jen: She was just being pleasant. Sam: I know flirting when I see it, baby. You know, go back in there and ask her out.
Which brings us to the Flirting or Just Friendly Rule. Jennifer tells us: “The very clear rule here is it’s fifty-fifty. The real question here is: Are you willing to take the risk?” Since Jennifer hasn’t had sex in over a year, the answer today should be an eager and breathy yes.

Jen’s blowing a great opportunity, and Sam knows it. Picking up lesbians in a bookstore could not be easier. Looking for a strong, handy dyke? Try the Home Improvement section, obviously. Political, activist types make you swoon? Gender Studies and Women’s History. And nature lovers are growing like weeds in the Gardening section. But whatever you do, stay away from the Self-Help section. Consider yourself warned.

Sam tells Jen she’ll make a pact with her. If Jen goes back to the store and asks that woman out, she’ll quit her day shifts at the bar and find a house to flip. It’s a win-win of sorts.

She’s got the music in her. Not. — Crutch comes strolling into Kris and Chris’ with her guitar. She’s there to help them with Pet Adoption Day, but she’s late because musicians live very complicated lives. Chris reminds her the doggies vests aren’t going to pack themselves. Crutch announces that what Adoption Day really needs is live music. Oh please, no.

Crutch: [way off-key] There’s a holocaust of cats and kitties. And dogs are dying in all the cities. And while you’re sitting there on your butt, get up and adopt a mutt.
Um … A for effort? Kris offers she likes the kitties/cities rhyme. Chris says she thinks it’s, um, catchy. Crutch instantly knows they hated it. She blames it on her guitar. When in doubt, blame the equipment. Chris and Kris look at each other suspiciously.

Crutch decides what she needs is a new gee-tar and offers to do some extra work at Just for Doggies for some cash. Kris suggests that Crutch sing at Pet Adoption Day. Great. Can’t wait to hear all those dogs howling at once.

Happy as a tone-deaf clam, Crutch trots out the door with her new gig confirmed. Chris gives Kris the look. Kris asks, “What? She needs us,” and reminds her partner that they’re Crutch’s ” Seattle moms.” Pet Adoption Day comes but once a year. But every day is Crutch Adoption Day. Besides, as Kris says, “You can love the singer and not the singing.” Which is exactly how I feel when my girlfriend serenades me with her oh-so-special rendition of “Landslide.”

Hey baby, what’s yer sign? — Jen goes back into the bookstore to ask the woman out. She stops a few feet away and looks at her hesitantly. But before she can approach the woman, Jennifer takes a detour into fantasyland: She’s suddenly alone with the sales clerk.

Sales clerk: Lady, are you buying something or just picking up literate women? Jen: [looking confused] Aah … actually … there was a … woman … in line. Sales clerk: Oh. The babe that was flirting with you? Jen: That’s the thing. I’m not sure it was flirting per se. I mean, how do you know she wasn’t just being pleasant?
The bookstore cashier whips out a ginormous dusty tome and smacks it down on the counter. Olde tymey lettering on the cover says The Big Book of Lesbians. The clerk opens it.

Sales clerk: Flirting: verb. One. To engage in banter when no banter is required. Jen: So what if she did a little? Sales clerk: OK. Two. To initiate, in physical contact [Pumping her arm back and forth], no matter how minute or indirect. Three … Jen: No, wait. She did touch one of my books. So, you really think she was hitting on me? Sales clerk: It’s fifty-fifty. Ask her yourself. Jen: [to Blondie] OK. Hey. Were you just hitting on me?
The woman turns and says, “Excuse me?” Oops. Did she just say that aloud? Jen looks around to see a line of people staring at her. She does an awesome, awkward Ellen kind of a thing and says, “Was that my outer voice?” How cute is Jen?

Jennifer’s pick-up repertoire consists of two lines: “Come here often?” and “Doing anything for dinner?” Hopefully, in that order. That said, Jen delivers both lines with enough endearing charm — and in order — that they actually work. The blond woman gives up her name (Kate) and says yes, she could in fact have dinner tomorrow.

Jen comes skipping out of the bookstore with girlish glee. She tells Sam to call the bar and quit that day shift. Sam looks ill.

Animal lovers — Jen’s at the ChKrisses helping Chris box up doggie bags because Crutch is a pitch-challenged slacker. Kris is on the computer trying to find their newest stray a good home. A perfect home. The perfect home. Chris says it’s not easy finding people with the time and money to invest in a dog. Jen can’t see why it would take so long, and furthermore, not every pet owner has to have money.

Chris and Kris: [horrified and in unison] They’re not “pet owners.” Kris: They’re caregivers. Chris: They’re puppy parents. Kris: Guardians of furry souls.
Okey-dokey.

Busy beevers — Crutch is working her day job: barista at the Muff-In Beever Café. Emmy, the manager (the Big Beever, if you will), hands a customer her latte. Crutch compliments Emmy on her awesome foam-making skills. Emmy rolls her eyes and walks away. Smooth.

A hot, dreadlocked UPS driver arrives with a delivery for a “Caroline Michaels.” Crutch quickly whispers, “No. Hey, hey. Crutch,” and points to herself. Whatever, dude. Just sign here. Crutch tells the Big Beever that this here is the Indigo Girls’ Amy Ray’s guitar, thank you very much. Emmy says grumpily, “Did I give you a raise I don’t know about?” and tells Crutch to keep her damn eBay transactions at home. Emmy is thoroughly unimpressed and directs Crutch to go bus a table. Aw, don’t be that way. There’s nothing more disappointing than a grumpy Beever.

Crutch can’t hear her, anyway, because she’s praying to Saint Amy, the Patron Saint of Hopelessly Untalented Musicians.

They call her Flipper, Flipper … — Sam is sitting in what appears to be a sweet-ass, cherry red Karmann Ghia in front of a house. There’s a For Sale sign on the lawn. This could be The One. Sam immediately calls Jen to report she’s found the perfect investment property. On the other end of the line, Jennifer is highlighting passages in her recent purchase, Selling Sex: A Case Study, such as Chapter 3, Cleavage: How Much and How Often, and Chapter 6, Flattering Camera Angles for the Buttocks.

Jen is skeptical, but Sam gives her the simple steps toward real estate domination: Put down a little, rent it out for a while, and then sell high. Coincidentally, that’s also exactly how you should pick girlfriends. But Jen is talking about money here.

Jen’s “Financial Shaft” Rule states that since lesbians can’t marry, share insurance or get tax bennies, it’s every girl’s duty to cover her own ass, so plan accordingly. For real, please do this one. You know how I hate to worry about your retirement. Inside the house, Sam tries to make an offer, but a tall, dark-haired woman swoops in and offers ten grand over the asking price, adding that her financing is also preapproved. Oh, snap. Sam’s head whips around. She’d be livid except for the fact that her rival is smoking hot. Becca? Becca who?

Hot wings — For their date, Kate takes Jennifer to a Hooters-type joint for dinner. She says it will help Jen with her research, but I think she just likes this place. A waitress with huge gazongas in a skin-tight, low-cut shirt walks by, prompting Jen to wonder if the staff feels exploited and why does she suddenly crave melon?

Kate calls Double D to their table and prods Jennifer to do some interviewing.

Jen: How do you feel about working here? Double D: I love it. Best job I ever had. The money’s fantastic, and the customers are polite. Jen: Polite? Every guy in here is undressing you with his eyes. Double D: [snorts knowingly] Why do you think they tip so well? What do I care what they do with their eyes? Jen: So it’s not exploitation? Double D: Sure it is. I exploit every guy that comes in here. Plus, I’m pre-med and the schedule’s flexible.
All I heard was “flexible.”

Pre-med? Really? I thought strippers were pre-med and Hooters girls were pre-law. My mistake.

Kate comments that a flexible schedule is a “Godsend for single mothers,” and maybe that’s just the ticket for herself. Uh, what? Jen doesn’t have a rule for this sitch because her brain is kakking on the words “single mother.”

Here’s a rule: The First Date Full Disclosure Rule states that you should tell your date up front if you have a kid, you’re not quite single yet, or you’ve been between jobs for more than eight months. Your date has a right to make informed decisions about her next move. There is no good way, however, to reveal you have three different anti-psychotic prescriptions. You should probably keep that to yourself.

Get off yer butt and adopt a mutt — Sam and Jen drop in on Pet Adoption Day. Jen tells Sam about her date the night before and says she’s worried she’s not ready to be a mother. Sam reminds Jumpy McGun it was one frigging date.

As they talk, a woman whom Jen recognizes slides by. “Elizabeth?” Jen calls out. A woman with shampoo commercial hair spins around. Jen and Elizabeth strike up a little chitchat. “How’s the rowing?” Jennifer asks.

The woman replies: “It’s great for the upper body. You should try it.” Ugh. Doesn’t rowing involve getting up before sunrise? I’ll stick to my 12-ounce curls, thanks.

Sam’s eyes take a stroll along the flanks of the river Elizabeth. Sam likey. I love what a dawg she is. On that note, Sam tells Jennifer she has a real estate seminar to attend to and splits.

Sam’s timing could not be more perfect, because just then, Crutch launches into a craptastic rendition of “Closer to Fine.” Sort of. Not really. OK, it’s not at all “Closer to Fine.”

Crutch: [singing, if you can call it that] I’m trying to tell you something about my mom. She won’t love me when I’m on Oprah jumping on the couch like Tom. But you’ll love me when I’m famous, love me when I’m famous … Mom.
Chris tries her best to look like her ears are not bleeding. Kris, in another matching sweater, smiles blithely. Oh Amy Ray, thou hath forsaken us.

After Crutch’s Kill-ith Fair Concert, Kris interviews possible guardians for their furry-souled stray, but no one lives up to her rigorous vetting process, not even a responsible lawyer who really wants to be a doggie-mom. Chris reminds her they’re going to end up with more strays then they started with if she doesn’t get real, but Kris is the lesbian Doctor Dolittle.

Learning the biz from, er, the inside out — Meanwhile, Sam’s “seminar” turns out to be a little afternoon delight with the dark-haired investor with the preapproved loan. Sam did a little preapproving of her own and is now doing a very thorough inspection of the property, especially the plumbing. The woman wants to get inspected again and asks to see Sam tomorrow. Two days in a row is one day too many for Sam, who doesn’t answer but instead stares at the ceiling. Sam’s interest in houses does not extend to playing house.

Flipper: Thursday? [silence] Sam? Thursday? Sam: Um, that depends. I still don’t have all your inside secrets to making a fortune in real estate. Flipper: I’m guessing Thursday. Sam: Yeah. Thursday’s good.
That’s called leveraging your assets.

Decisions — At the end of Pet Adoption Day, Chris and Kris are back home. Chris jokes that if Kris had her way, every homeless animal in the world would end up at their house.

Kris: We have more than enough love to go around. We’re great parents. Chris: Yeah. We are great parents. Kris: We’d also be great parents. Chris: Do you think it’s time we became people parents? Kris: I do.
Is it really that short a hop from dog ownership to parenthood? I hope Kris realizes you cannot name a baby Mr. Lickums.

Elsewhere, Jen and Kate are in the park with their chai lattes and their issues. Jen tells her what a great time she’s having and all, but her idea of a good day may not include a trip to Chuck E. Cheese. Not at this point in her life, anyway. Jen tries to explain her hesitation, but Kate can name that tune in two notes or less. She lets Jen off the hook and tells her good luck with her sex movie and see ya ’round.

Next week on Exes & Ohs: Jennifer and Sam compete for the same woman. Kris and Chris wonder if they can afford a baby. Crutch starts living in the Beever. Now there’s a real estate decision I can get with.

For more on Exes & Ohs, watch Michelle Paradise’s second video blog.

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