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“Exes & Ohs” Recaps: Episode 1.6 “What Goes Around …”

Bar drama – It’s Chris’ birthday. Happy birthday! She’s 40: one year closer to menopause, seniors’ discounts and death. Kris adjusts the birthday girl’s paper birthday hat – the kind with the elastic string that scared me as a little kid.

Chris groans at the idea of The Big 4-0, but Jen reassures her that 40 is the new 30. Which makes 25 the new 15. Some of you are doing things with girls that are illegal in most states. After everyone clinks their drinks in a cheery toast, Jen notices Sam’s sad birthday clown face. Elizabeth, the hot psychotherapist Sam’s been trying to get on the couch, has done what few women have done before: She blew Sam off for a date. Maybe she was busy therapizing unsuspecting people at the mall.

Meanwhile, the girls can’t help but notice two women arguing on the other side of the bar. Upon closer inspection, they see it’s Sienna, Jen’s ex, and her wife, Emily. Jen smirks with the satisfaction of having dodged that bullet and says dryly: “Gee. They’re having trouble? It was a marriage made in heaven.” She throws another dart at the bar dartboard while imaging Sienna’s face.

Chris: Aw. Down girl. Jen: They deserve every ounce of misery they’ve created. Sam: Jen, that was a bit, um, harsh … and, well, I do harsh. Kris: Jen, you were so nice to Sienna at your movie screening. Jen: Well, welcome to the new Jen. The one who speaks her mind. Uninhibited. Forthright. Tough. Ha! Do not mess with me.
A dart hits the board with each declaration. Nice Jen has left the building.

The girls aren’t finding Jen’s new hard candy shell very sweet. Sam thinks New Jen is too extreme, which is odd, considering she used to ride Old Jen for being nice, in the extreme. Kris warns Jen about misaligning her chakras. Chakra, schmakra. Jen raises her glass and toasts herself.

Running late – The next day, Jen has overslept for a meeting with some network suits, and now she’s late for her very important date. Luckily, Sam has stopped by with some fresh, hot Beever, which doesn’t mean what it used to since they broke up years ago.

Jen’s hair does something interesting while she stuffs her bag full of raw stripper footage for her meeting. Sam reveals her motive for the morning visit: She wants to dissect Elizabeth.

Sam wonders why Elizabeth would tell her to “do some work” on herself if they are ever going to have dinner together. What kind of “work” is required to have dinner, other than some quick Zagat research and, in the worst-case scenario, a brush-up on the salad fork/dessert fork conundrum?

Sam can’t ask Elizabeth to explain herself because Elizabeth is too busy rowing up and down Seattle ‘s waterways to address her compulsion for judging and fixing people against their will, or her habit of being attracted to flawed women whom she won’t date until they work on their flaws. Is it me, or are therapists usually even crazier than we are?

Before Jen can dispense any pearls of dating wisdom, she takes a sip of her piping hot coffee. The lid pops off, sending a cascade of Sumatra down the front of her shirt. A conference call with the network execs from the hospital burn unit might work, too.

A very brief house call – Dr. Bob pays a visit to the ChKrisses. He tells them he would be honored to be their sperm donor, as he holds one hand behind his back. That better not be what I think it is. With a flourish, he hands them a bouquet of flowers instead of a tablespoon of baby. Thank God. Blocked – Unlike myself certain lazy types who shall remain nameless, Jen has other blouses already laundered and doesn’t have to resort to changing into a Beever Café T-shirt.

As Jen rummages through her closet, Sam gets a call on her cell; she’s officially closed on her condo. She sits on Jen’s bed and ponders the “big ass commitment” she’s just made and looks a little queasy.

Jen frantically buttons up a clean shirt and runs out the door, her bed-head hair flouncing behind her, leaving Sam with her girl problems and money pit anxiety. Don’t forget to lock up!

Outside, a moving truck is blocking Jen’s Mini Cooper, which was bound to happen because she’s already running late. “Did you not see me here?” Jen yells at the house in front of her car.

She lays on the horn: meep, meep. It’s hard to be rageful when your tiny car mews like a stuffed animal.

Jen tries to inch out of her spot but ends up busting her tail light instead. It’s one of those days.

Fix and flip – Sam meets with her realtor to skip through her new condo. She flips the garbage disposal switch and realizes it doesn’t work. When the realtor tells her she knows an excellent plumber, Sam says thanks, but no thanks. She’ll fix it herself. Right after she stops that check to her home inspector.

Today’s youth – Crutch’s newest and only fan, Tatum O’Neal, shows up at the Beever to invite her idol to do a set at her next youth group meeting. Right after the part where they pray.

Crutch: Pray? Tatum: Yeah. Well, we invite Christ into all of our meetings. Of course, some of them are so boring, I can’t imagine Jesus would want to come.
I have it on good authority that Jesus is always late and a bit of a spotlight hog. There’s always plenty of doughnuts when he’s around, though.

Emmy overheard the whole thing, and after Tatum leaves, she immediately confronts Crutch about agreeing to play at some “Christian thing.” It’s a long, long road to Madison Square Garden.

Handy dykes – Embarking on the journey that is home ownership, Sam goes to work on her garbage disposal repair, the first in what will become an endless list of house projects. She also becomes familiar with a different kind of lesbian hot spot: the contractor’s supply store.

A store employee follows Sam out to the parking lot to give her the receipt she left at the counter and scares her silly with talk of circuit breakers, amperage draw and overload.

Sam: Now I have to worry about wiring? Can you tell me again how this is all pretty simple stuff? Maytag Man: I’m sure you won’t have a problem, it’s just … Sam: What then? Am I going to have to replace the wiring and then the plumbing and then what? Is the roof going to cave in? Maytag Man: It’s just a garbage disposal. Sam: [yelling] This is insane! Insane. What was I thinking? Like I’m Donald Trump? Like I can just buy a condo and then fix and flip. I should have my head examined.
Not for nothing, but that’s what Elizabeth’s been saying all along.

Late for a very important date – Jen comes running into the television network offices and announces herself to the eye candy sitting daintily at the front desk. Candy wordlessly looks at her watch with disdain and points to a door.

I love being dismissed on sight by the receptionist, don’t you? Although in my case, I would very likely show up late for a meeting and be wearing a Beever Café T-shirt, so that judgmental look is not always without cause.

Cut to Jen coming back out, defeated. Apparently, there’s no room on the broadcast schedule for an in-depth sexumentary, not when there are so many alien-looking bisexuals, vapid, conceited model wannabes and girls in prison that need to get on the air. Although I’m completely OK with the shows about girls in prison.

Adding insult to injury, Jen finds a traffic cop writing her a parking ticket outside. Jen looks up at the sky and asks, “What did I do to deserve a day like this?” If only a bird had pooped in her eye at that moment, it would have put a bow on her day.

The traffic cop instantly transforms into an angel with wings and a billowy white robe. She tells Jen the power that be is too busy to make her little life hell on earth. And, perhaps, Jen ought to get those chakras tuned up. Old Jen would have forced herself to smile and say, “Thank you, sir, may I please have another,” but New Jen doesn’t bend over that far. Someone is to blame. Additionally, she’s getting a cold and that’s someone’s fault, too.

Cop: Look on the bright side. Maybe everything will get better from here. Jen: Certainly can’t get any worse.
Things get worse – Jen comes home to find someone has broken into her home and left a Sienna in her living room. Not the Sienna that comes with built-in DVD and 14 cup holders. If only this one were as much fun to drive.

This Sienna is the ex who cheated on Jen with their couples’ therapist, left her for same, and had brass ones so big she could barely fit them under her wedding dress, which she wore at the subsequent wedding she invited Jen to, fully expecting a hug and a gift. That Sienna.

Jen: Sienna, what are you doing in my apartment? Sienna: You keep a spare key under your plant for when you lock yourself out. Jen: That explains how you got in my apartment. But I believe my question was what the hell are you doing in my apartment? Sienna: You saw us the other night. It was really bad. I had nowhere else to go. Jen: [sternly] I’m sorry that you two are having problems, but it is not OK for you to walk into my home unannounced.
Old Sienna, meet the New Jen.

Baby-making – Meanwhile, Chris and Kris are in a doctor’s office, choosing an oven.

Kris: [grabbing Chris’s hand] She eats lots of leafy green vegetables and gets lots of sleep. Chris: [smiling] And she exercises and doesn’t smoke.
Although they both live disgustingly healthy lifestyles, the doctor informs them the younger of the two will have the best chance at a successful litter. Kris looks sadly at her partner, the 40-year-old virgin. Forty may be the new 30, but someone forgot to tell Chris’ ovaries. Fix and flip out – Elsewhere, Sam’s busy trying to install her own garbage disposal like a good little lesbian home owner. She’s fidgeting with the pipes under the kitchen sink until something bursts and water sprays all over her.

Sam starts to cry because there is no one named Corky working in the vacant apartment next door whom she can call on for plumbing help and a little tattoo show-and-tell. If it’s any conciliation, Sam looks mighty fine in a wet tank top. Neighborhood improvements – Back at Jen’s, Sienna is brusquely being shown the door. New Jen isn’t going to play Sienna’s crying game, even if Sienna is pleading, “Jen, please, I just …”

Jen swings the door open and is startled by a smoking hot woman with gorgeous eyebrows and a bottle of wine standing in front of her. The woman introduces herself as her new neighbor, Luciana from apartment 103. The number on Jen’s door is 104. There is a God.

Luciana: I might have accidently blocked your car this morning. I hope it wasn’t a huge hassle.
Jen looks right at the camera and explains the Honesty Lite Rule: “Honesty is the best policy. Except when a hot new neighbor holding a bottle of cabernet is apologizing to you. That’s when honest-esque may be the best choice.” Jen is two seconds away from apologizing for scratching the moving truck’s lift gate with the shards of her smashed tail light when Sienna breaks Jen’s (and my) reverie and tells Luciana to scram; she and Jen need a minute. Jen jumps in that there is no minute needed – they are done. So, so done.

Sienna walks away in a huff, leaving Jen free to stare shyly at the deliciousness that is Luciana.

What would Jesus do? – Crutch is sitting in a minister’s office with Tatum, whose real name we now know is Olivia, to discuss the terms of Crutch’s performance. Until this moment, the closest Crutch had come to religion was listening to Judas Priest and Thelonious Monk.

The minister, a baby-faced rookie himself, wears a grandfatherly Bing Crosby cardigan but still looks like he’s about 19. He tells Crutch he’s looking forward to hearing her play and how she’s had such a positive influence on Olivia. He has no idea her biggest influence has been being a cool lesbian.

Crutch tells him her friends were concerned about her playing for a Christian event, considering the “gay thing.” From the flummoxed look on his face, it’s clear Olivia failed to mention a certain little tidbit to Reverend Babyface.

Before the minister can assign Crutch one bajillion Hail Mary’s for her sinful ways, Olivia tells him that it shouldn’t matter; her music is cool because it’s about being yourself and how it’s so positive. Doe-eyed and innocent Olivia tells him, “You always tell us that Jesus was positive, and he would love her.”

Reverend: [to Crutch] Well, um, maybe your music would have a positive influence on the other kids as well. Olivia: [jumping in] Yeah. It totally would. Reverend: We’re happy to have you, Crutch. But let’s just focus on your music and not on you. Deal? Crutch: [shaking her head] I did not move out of a storage room just so I could move back into the closet.
On that happy note, Crutch leaves. Olivia looks at Reverend Babyface with big, sad eyes. It doesn’t look good for Olivia’s favorite magenta-haired, guitar-toting lesbian to be belting out “Giant” at Bingo night.

Therapized – Sam’s back at the office of Dr. Harrison, Elizabeth’s male colleague, allegedly to pay for last week’s accidental therapy session. She’s also complaining about all the work she has to do on her condo. The doctor speculates she’s done it all before in her current apartment, but Sam explains the condo is older than her rental.

Dr. Harrison: Rental? Well, a condo is a commitment. Sam: You know I didn’t come here to, um, to have therapy on my commitment issues. I just came here to give you that check because you accidently therapized me last week. Dr. Harrison: You really believe that’s why you’re here? Sam: This is the part where you’re going to tell me, that, uh, I need to do some work on myself or you know, self-actualize or … Dr. Harrison: Certainly. Part of self-actualization, as you put it, is the ability to commit to something. Or someone.
Not looking to get therapized again, she tells the good doctor he doesn’t know her. Doctor Harrison offers he’s there to get to know her. Sam gets up and says sarcastically, “Have fun with that,” and makes her way to the door.
Dr. Harrison: When’s the last time someone really hurt you and you stayed to deal with it? Sam: I don’t need this. Dr. Harrison: It’s easier to walk away. The harder choice is to stay.
To date, Sam’s hardest choices have involved blondes, brunettes and eeny-meeny-miny-moe. But let’s not discount the agony of that kind of decision-making.

Sorry isn’t good enough – Back at the bar, the girls are enjoying the rejuvenating properties of group therapy over beers. They listen to Chris and Kris plan their imminent life alteration, which starts tomorrow with Kris’ first insemination appointment. Crutch offers to host a post-baster party, appropriately enough, at the Beever. Hope Emmy doesn’t mind Kris lying upside-down on the couch with her legs in the air.

Everyone’s happy to go, including Jen, who now has a stuffy nose and cold medicine-head. Suddenly, their party goes quiet, and it’s not because Jen’s ears are clogged.

Jen turns around to see what everyone’s looking at. It’s her favorite buzz-kill, Sienna, walking up to her. Sienna wants to apologize for her recent break-in and inappropriate emotional support demands. The old Jen would’ve made nice and accepted the apology while her insides churned like a butter maid on meth. The new Jen isn’t that easy.

Sienna: I was way out of line, coming to you of all people. I’m sorry. And I hope, one day, we can start over … be friends.
Can we decide right here and now that we do not need to be friends with all our exes any more? Just because we have to run into former girlfriends again and again at the one and only bar in town, or share our friends because they’ve evolved into a big, overlapping tangle of connections impossible to separate, that does not mean we have to be actual friends with our exes. Something wrong with merely being cordial? I’m just saying.

Jen’s with me because she doesn’t answer Sienna, but instead, quietly seethes and imagines her with needles in her eyes. Sienna turns to walk away, but then Jen finally speaks up.

Jen: You had an affair. Sienna: I know. Jen: With our couples therapist. Sienna: I know. Jen: And married her. And invited me to the wedding like it was no big deal. And then, in some insanely self-centered way, thought it was OK to show up and make me your shoulder to cry on. Sienna: I know. I wish I could take it all back. I am so sorry for all of it. Jen: Ya know when that apology might have meant something? When I still loved you. But I don’t love you anymore. I don’t know if we’ll ever be friends. And I can’t feel guilty. I won’t. I don’t.
Sienna offers to buy the next round as a gesture of too little, too late good will. Sam comes over and puts her arms around her friend. Jen orders a double. Baby’s mamas – The next day at the doctor’s office, Kris lies on the gyno table on top of that comfy butcher paper we all know and love, waiting for her sperms. Chris has flowers and mood music, but all Kris wants is her. Chris gives her baby’s mama a kiss for good luck. Daddy’s baby – Back at the money pit, Sam is under the sink again, still wrestling with the garbage disposal monster. There’s a knock at the door. “Just bring it in here,” she calls out. A pair of shoes appear in the kitchen, but they look too dressy to belong to a delivery man.

Sam wiggles out from under and sees her dad standing there with a vase of cut flowers. Sam is touched and a little awkward, too. Things haven’t been great since she turned down his financial assistance and he turned up his nose at her affinity for other women’s breasts.

Sam invites her dad to stay for some coffee. And perhaps later, some plumbing assistance.

Fans – The morning rush at the Beever consists of three girls shouting their orders for nonfat, extra shot, triple foam things at Crutch all at once. Olivia sidles up to the counter and says to the girls, “I see you guys met Crutch.”

The girls ooh and aah at Crutch, the rock star. Crutch looks confused. One of the girls says, “So, you’re the lesbian,” and another adds, “That is so cool,” as if being gay were a novelty like being able to juggle or tie a cherry stem into a knot in your mouth. Come to think of it, that is impressive.

Crutch admits she brought some fans to show off the woman who told off their spiritual leader. Olivia is so darn cute, you just want to tousle her Muppet head and give her a gentle chuck under the chin.

The apple and the tree – Under the kitchen sink, Sam has dragged her dad into her handywoman hell. There’s another gusher of water. Sam’s dad doesn’t know any more about plumbing than she does. Sam reminds him he put her bicycle together and the tire fell off when she was going downhill and she has the scars to prove it. Good times.

Sam says she’s sorry she walked away from him when it was clear he wasn’t going to be high-fiving her for being a lesbian. And Sam’s dad says he’s sorry for not being the liberal he thought he was, but he is trying. They hug. Aw. About last night – Jen is still in bed when her cell phone goes off. It’s not clear what time it is, but since she’s been fluish, maybe she’s sleeping in. It’s the network, calling to schedule another meeting. Yay. All is not lost for her film, Sex, Inc.

Jen confirms she’ll bring the rough cut that put all her friends to sleep to the next meeting and hangs up. She rolls over and finds herself nose to nose with Sienna. In her bed. Naked. Jen jumps out of bed like it’s on fire and stares in horror at Sienna as she sleeps. Jen looks down at herself and realizes she’s still wearing her bra. OK, there’s that. Is it a good sign or a bad sign?

She tries to wake Sienna, but it’s no use. What the hell happened last night? And where did the day go? Jen realizes she’s late for the ChKrisses’ insemination party at the Beever.

Kumbaya – Baby dyke Olivia and her friends are enjoying a mini Crutch concert at the café, since everyone is boycotting church. As Sam and Emmy look on, Crutch sings songs with lyrics she took a whole five minutes to write, like, “You can’t even spell ‘Jesus’ without spelling ‘us’ … yeah.” And you can’t spell “craptastic” without spelling “crap.”

Emmy is so moved, she gives Crutch a very personal standing ovation – much to the delight of the kids, let alone Crutch. Jen comes bursting into the café and grabs Sam.

Jen: Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam! Tell me what happened last night. Sam: Finally, you made it. You know, a lightweight like you really should not drink on an empty stomach, especially after taking those antihistamines. Jen: Look, that doesn’t answer my question. What I wanted to know was …
Just then, the ChKrisses show up. Hello! Congratulations on your recent injections! Emmy is all aglow, having just come out about her crush. Feeling extra generous, she offers the girls free sponge muffins and decaf coffee.

After hugs all around, Jen grabs Sam and tries again.

Jen: Tell me what happened. Sam: How can you not remember who you took home? Even I remember who I took home.
Elizabeth, the woman who finds Sam too flawed to date (and too hot to not), walks in on that last sentence and smirks.
Elizabeth : Who did you take home? Sam: Uh, I didn’t … I … Jen: [to Elizabeth ] I’m sorry …
Jen pulls Sam away before she can dig herself any deeper into the hole just started and asks, “Do you have any idea how I woke up with Sienna?”

Sam’s jaw drops. “You slept with Sienna?” Sam says in her loudest outside voice. The entire gang, including Elizabeth, turns to stare at Jen. Sam ends the season not with a bang, but with a whisper: “Sorry.”

Will Chris and Kris learn they’re expecting a baby or a litter of puppies? Will Sam find real love with Elizabeth or will she just end up with an outrageous therapy bill? Will Crutch get discovered singing at the Beever and take Emmy on tour with her? And will Jen ever finish her film, have an affair with her hot new neighbor, or find out how Sienna ended up naked in her bed?

Will Logo renew Exes & Ohs for a second season so we can find out the answers to these and other burning questions? Only time will tell.

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