Another week, another slice of confusion pie. I'm not sure if Mad Men needs someone in the writers room to derail conversations, eat all the red Skittles and most importantly, ask all the minute questions to dumb it down immensely, but lucky for y'all, you get to hear the breadth of my endless confusion here. Forget the characters' interpretations of historical events, Don being crazy worried about his downstairs cum dumpster or even the significance of the phrase "I Do". Let's get to the important stuff. Like, Betty's Biggest Loser moment and my lady boner for Ginsberg:
Lil' Megan and her chola hair done won an award! It just goes to show: when you dress yourself like a baked potato-turned-fembot, we all win.
Either Matthew Weiner has a shitty-ass marriage or is just inept at connecting episodes, because I'm not particularly sure how Donny and Megs went from a dressing room standoff at the end of last week to him living out his personal worst nightmare: being Megan's date to an awards event she's being honored at, and not vice versa. The only way they'd progress from that fucked up blowout would be if Don apologized and therefore emitted feelings from his face-made-of-stone, but considering this week's woe-is-me monologue and the fact that, I don't know, he's cold-heartedly evil, that obviously never happened. So, what, did they just go to sleep and wake up and Megan ignored it? Did he curtly apologize while brushing his teeth with a bottle of Jack like the voice of our generation, Ke$ha? You know what, I'm gonna stop guessing because i want to believe that's how he starts his mornings. Feeling just like P Diddy, in a tattered Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, hungover as fuck.
"But enough about you, LETS TALK ABOUT MY APARTMENT." Someone, please put Peggy back in her chair and teach her how to have small talk. And maybe how to dress like a Christmas present more often. I like that.
Oh, by the way, if you're a frequent reader of this blog, you'll have noticed the guest cameo by the co-creator of my favorite show, BFF. Never heard of it? Well, it's off the air like the rest of the TV shows I enjoy, but good ol' Lennon Parham, bless her hilarious soul, played that too-precious realtor in the fur coat. She's a sparkly shiny gem and I adore her.
And on the opposite end of the spectrum, they put the freaky-ass clayface from Lost in this episode?! I have no clue what he was talking about, what his purpose was or what in the fuck went on during that exchange, but going from whackjob Ethan on ze iiiiiisland to being just-as-cray in Don Draper's office seems substantial in the most confusing way. I'm not sure if they're trying to channel the creep factor of his previous character and be all Twin Peaks-y and multidimensional, but I asked my viewing partner no less than six times what was going on and he was just as blank-faced as I was. That conversation with Don — "I'm pretty sure we had this meeting already too, and it went well" — is wackier than building a smoke monster in a deserted forest and hoping people believe it as a feasible catch-all for shitty plot portions. Bottom line: you know your show is trying too hard when Lost seems more coherent.
Peggy's boyfriend's facial hair officially has a life of its own. Thank god all of our men either look like olde-timey barbers or dirty lumberjacks, because I could never get behind whatever country western look he's been working on that upper face region of his body. For those of you who think I'm overreacting, name something he's worn. Anything. One thing. If you can't figure it out? It's because you're trapped in the Bermuda Triangle complex that is his furry upper deck.
Things Mad Men Wants Me To Give A Shit About That I Won't: Peggy and her boss having a weird thing for her, Don and his kid and him finally having feelings, Betty's marriage to Henry which is feeling more and more soap opera-y by the day.
And the crush on Ginsberg officially begins! You use lothario and virgin in the same sentence while eating a god damn matzo ball and I'm bound to fall for you. Does it get any more perfect than that?!
Things I thought they were freaking out about instead of MLK's Death: Paul Newman being a bad public speaker, Bobby Kennedy being shot, and someone streaking at the advertising awards. Paying attention to this episode was like brushing your teeth on Yom Kippur: completely futile.
Nothing makes me sadder than watching a nice, dark-haired Jewish girl eating a hamburger. Milk and meat were made for each other. Quite literally, actually.
Conflict, in shades of raven. I started this episode by thinking "good christ, can we just get rid of Betty already?!", mostly due to the fact that I'm sick of looking at Betty's face. I am so insanely, feverishly, Operating-room-guts-spilling-on-the-tablesick of looking at her face. She's kind of like the warm-blooded version of those Precious Moments collections everyone's weird aunt has, as she too is totally worthless and taking up space. I don't mean to be biased towards thin people (OK fine, any more than I already am), but I can't even remember when that bitch was the blonde trophy wife Don had married way back when. Blame me having marbles for a brain or just that this show has drifted so far from that point, but that moment of her holding the teeny-tiny dress up to her stay-at-home mom body was my own personal version of Peter Parker getting bitten by the spider that would change his life forever. Can't wait. Can't. Wait.
But seriously, can you imagine race issues being so tense that you just expect black people not to come into the office one day? It's the first time the show has touched on differences between people — gender-wise, age-wise, ethnicity-wise — and has actually stunned me.
Theory: This entire episode felt like the world's worst sequel to Being John Malkovich. The weird cutaways, the everything-making-no-sense, the ugly Cameron Diaz. (OK, so she wasn't in there, but we're really underutilizing her as an actress. Sigh, Hollywood. Chews you up, spits you out, makes you lift so many weights to have freaky Tracy Anderson-toned biceps into old age.)
I've gone from anti-Megan to pro-Megan and pro-Betty to anti-Betty, but I'm officially announcing that I can't get behind Peggy anymore. What kind of whack double standard-y world does she live in where she's allowed to ditch anything and everything for her career at any time, but when her male counterpart needs to churn out a time-sensitive story for the goddamn New York Times about an incredibly important newsworthy event, she throws a hissy? Insanity.
This week's lesson in "Who The Fuck": goes to Joan, because she doesn't know how to hug. Joan doesn't know how to hug! So great, so awkward, so fantastic.
Trillest Of The Week: uh, BETTY. No competition. That line — "I guarantee you'd go to Canada on your knees to pick up your girlfriend" — is everything. One day, dear God, please make me this bitchy. It's all I ask of you. (Ignore previous childhood requests to make Zac Hanson my husband and honor this one instead.)
Actual transcription of "On The Next Episode of AMC's Mad Men": "So you want something." "Why can't you handle it?" "I want out." "How long is he staying?" "You've already done all you can do."
Previous Instances Of Me Ranting About This Old-School Show:
Season 6, Episode 4: To Have and To Hold
Season 6, Episode 3: The Collaborators
Season 6, Episodes 1 and 2: The Doorway