This Easter began like every other: in a sugar blitz. While Christians throughout the world are celebrating the holiest day of the year, the Warners are gorging on baskets overflowing with every conceivable kind of homemade chocolate that my mother has handpicked from Mondels, the 40-year old chocolate shop on the Upper West Side. The other day my dad alerted me over IM (I was up doing homework and he was playing online backgammon with a faceless challenger of dubious skill who called himself "Stewie") that the baskets would be "unprecedented" this year. I could almost hear him salivating at the thought of the jumbo sized chocolate coconut egg that would be his for the taking a mere 48 hours later.
Still clothes-challenged by my career change, I arrived at my parents' apartment in an outfit that combined the very worst of social worker and TV producer: courdoroy pants and a pair of oversized white sunglasses that made me look like Elton John at his most addicted and sexually confused. In a scene straight out of our childhood, my sisters and I piled into the back seat of my parents recently purchased "gently used" PT Cruiser in a shade described by my dad as "opal" which in reality translates to "sparkly purple." I feel pretty safe saying this is the gayest car on earth. My mom handed me my basket and - even through the $5 glasses I could see the treasure trove that awaited me: caramels, jellybeans, chocolate and almond bars, and the requisite toothbrush which my mother always adds like a drug dealer giving you a multi-vitamin with your rock cocaine. I always imagine her saying "Go on. Slip into a diabetic coma, but before you do make sure to brush."
The drive to my Aunt Dolores' in Hollis, Queens was agonizing as usual due to my father's difficulty with exit ramps. Whenever and wherever we miss an exit (as we do repeatedly) my father blames it on the lack of "intuitiveness" in the exit's design. This always leads to a monologue about urban planning which inevitably leads to another missed exit and our regular arrival at my aunt's a solid two hours late.
Once there, we blew out on marshmallow covered starches and an assortment of other Easter type fare. My mother whipped out some homemade mint jelly for the lamb which looked vaguely like jellyfish (the jelly not the lamb) and my father got into holiday joke mode which usually involves competing with any pre-schooler at the table (in this case my 3 year old second cousin) for attention. Dessert and conversation followed and I wondered to myself if my pant button might injure anyone when it inevitably exploded off my person.
All this to say that the holiday-induced food and sugar coma - plus a nice pair of roomy sweatpants -helped control my rage problem while watching The L Word finale. Actually, I almost hate to admit that tonight's show wasn't even all that bad. Perhaps because Ziff's contribution was limited to the music? And Chaiken both scripted AND directed? Or maybe it was just my insulin levels.
Highlights!!
Helena is back! And she's got a dirty-looking fake tan, a hippie shirt, and a couple of blond streaks - inexplicably placed at the bottom of her hair - to prove that she's been "slumming it" in a Tahitian hut with Dusty, her former cellmate. Mama Peabody - bitten by a poisonous jellyfish and possibly near death - wants Helena to know that she's her sole inheritrix in the event of her untimely death. Helena has grown used to the rough and tumble life and doesn't want to be anyone's benefactor, but comes around when Peabody Sr. gasps that she could use the money to do good, not evil and buy out Dawn Denbo AND her lover Cindy. MEOW!
Helena goes to The Planet to reveal her dastardly plan to Kit who greets her in her native tongue of "Porter-gese" which is to say she shouts "Girl!" over and over again.
Adele has taken over as director of "Lez Girls" and is nothing short of evil. How do we know? Because she smokes cigarellos. Tobacco wrapped in dark brown paper = Dark Side. I kept hoping that someone would reveal Adele as the scamp we all know her to be and as part of her unmasking we'd discover that her smokes of choice are actually Mores, a cigarette preferred by Arizona housewives, hillbillies, and fans of "Flowers In the Attic" everywhere.
Alice doesn't likey Tasha's new blue-collar attitude. She craves a sister with goals and joining the LAPD ain't supposed to be one of them. Alice wants a woman who can wear a school-girl jumper and drive a scooter. A woman with an accent. A woman with a slight double-chin and a bad hairdo. Alice wants a woman who starred in a long forgotten movie starring Kate Winslet about two lunatic lesbians in an English boarding school. Alice wants a white woman.
Phyllis confronts Shane about dating her "exceptional" daughter Molly who was planning on heading off to intern at the Supreme Court until she got caught up in the McCutcheon web of delight with the cut-right-to-the-bone remark "Even your friends think you're bad news." Shane looks humbled ans raises her eyes heavenward as if to say "Dear God, it's me Shane. Am I bad news?"
With mom's blessing, Helena confronts Dawn Denbo with the earth-shattering news that she not only owns The Planet and She-Bar, but Denbo's lover Cindy! This Easter miracle is made even more tear-jerking when Cindy speaks for herself: "I'm not your lover Cindy. I'm Cindy Annabelle Tucker;" a gem closely followed by Denbo's keen observation that all the ladies - Kit, Helena, Cindy, etc. - are "skanks r us." Writing like this only comes around once in a generation, folks. I hope we're all taking notes.
Jodi is one angry deaf woman and she's out for revenge the old-fashioned way: with a bizarre mixed media installation consisting mostly of fractured images and audio clips of Bette's own words (recorded when and by whom is anyone's guess since presumably the deaf woman has no use for recording equipment). What was once just plain creepy is now modern art! Bette is humbled and humiliated and seeks refuge in Tina's arms.
But wait for it, here comes the ending! Jenny has been banned from the "Lez Girls" wrap party. Adele thanks the cast and crew and Wallace Shawn with a lock-jaw voice that must have come on with the cigarello habit. Our ladies wonder aloud how this debacle occurred and - high on life and the rescue of The Planet - Kit blurts out "It's the man that does all this shit." Not surprisingly no one responds to her outburst in much the same way that one quietly forgives the homeless man without pants occupying three seats on the subway. Suddenly Jenny arrives and takes over the mic to thank everyone for their work and loyalty. Jenny has also come to publicly announce her love for Nikki (though I was pretty sure everyone knew this already)only to discover that Nikki and Shane are totally getting it on. Confrontation ensues and Jenny is not in a forgiving mood. Finally, we learn that Adele has approved a script change and that the end of "Lez Girls" will be made "less gay" to the moral outrage of all of our ladies, including Kit who probably doesn't even remember where she is but knows enough to know she doesn't like any of this one bit!
Where to now? See you in 2009!
