Gaby dopes Carlos when he threatens to tell the police what happened to Victor; plus, Orson helps Mike score, and Susan sets Julie up with a drug dealer
Welcome home, Desperate Housewives, welcome…sorry. Extreme Makeover really messed with my head. We started this week with the combination of rippling water and Mary Alice’s voice. I was excited for this episode, but I felt my eyes grow heavy. A Mary Alice voice-over combined with rippling water is a strong sedative. Especially after two hours of Ty Pennington screaming into a megaphone. ”We think of the past as water under the bridge,” Mary Alice crooned. I nodded, hypnotized. We saw various riffraff float by. Was anyone else expecting seasons 2 and 3 of Desperate Housewives on DVD to drift past? I was sleepy and skeptical at the start of last night’s episode, worried that a trip down memory lane would remind me of all the missteps Housewives had taken in the previous two seasons. I was wrong. Forgive me, Marc Cherry. I loved this episode for addressing past plot points but also for filling certain, um, cavities.
Also asking for forgiveness were Gaby and Carlos, who made a visit to God’s house. (To be clear: not Marc Cherry’s digs.) How they got through the doors without being struck by lightning is anyone’s guess. Carlos went to have his sins absolved. Gaby went to wear a cute new dress and possibly challenge a few nuns to a rumble. When Gaby touched the holy water, it didn’t burn her fingertips off, which was proof that she’s not entirely evil. ”Don’t you feel guilty a man is dead?” Carlos yelled, you know, so that his voice wouldn’t echo to the high heavens and so that the cleaning lady nearby wouldn’t overhear. The residents of Wisteria Lane are in desperate need of a tutorial on using inside voices. Gaby paused for a second, contemplating what the word ”guilt” could possibly mean. Then she hit Carlos over the head, which was proof that if you’re Gaby’s lover, you’re gonna suffer some head trauma. Strap on a helmet.
Eva Longoria is a fantastic actor. Gaby is not. The girl was skipping around with a scarlet letter embroidered on whatever adorable outfit she was wearing while singing, ”Ding-dong, the mayor’s dead.” ”I hope this isn’t…?” Gaby asked, warily trailing off with her eyes darting around suspiciously when the detectives told her that Victor was missing. Hope this isn’t what, Gaby? The last episode to air because of the writers’ strike? Breathe easy, it’s not! The detectives informed her that they hadn’t found a single fingerprint on Victor’s abandoned boat and that ”whoever was on that boat was not that bright.” Gaby learned a hard truth: Applying concealer is much easier than concealing murder. When Carlos talked about confessing to the police, Gaby was in all her unapologetic, conniving, and self-serving glory. She could have pulled an Edie and phoned a friend about offshore banking, but why resort to blackmail when there was perfectly good tequila and sleeping pills around? Even Carlos couldn’t argue with that reasoning. Gaby’s less than thrilled reaction upon hearing that Victor washed up on shore, combined with a dazed and confused Carlos stumbling in the nearby window (could someone please close the blinds?) was hilarious. Not so much fun was Victor’s warning to Gaby. He remembered everything. Everything. I was horrified. Maybe Victor and Dana Delany should get together; it’d be the stuff of nightmares. (Maybe Dana Delany has a character name, but someone tragically forgot to include her in this episode.) Maybe, like Victor, Mike was faking amnesia last season so he’d get to sleep with Edie.
In case you weren’t sure Mike was a drug addict, we got a nice montage of doped Delfino dry-swallowing white pill after white pill. He also pulled the classic trick of running water while phoning his drug dealer, which was something I thought sixth-grade girls did to keep their spying mom from overhearing when they were trying to talk to their boyfriend. Speaking of shameless spying, Susan saw Julie get felt up by a young man named Derek, who has a blog and some questionable piercings. She’d much rather see Julie with the college drug dealer who fell out of a J. Crew catalog, so she flaunted Julie’s headshots and state-science-fair awards and gave him permission to marry her kid. Even though she was practically soliciting a total stranger to have premarital sex with her teenage daughter, I actually felt bad for Susan. I’m a pretty harsh judge of her character, but instead of hating her, I was too busy trying to figure out when Mike started hating her. Mike moaned to Orson about all the crap he has to pay for now that he lives with Susan. Patio furniture. Julie’s class trip. The stupid baby on the way. Can’t Karl pay for the class trip? Must they absolutely have patio furniture? Should Mike get a part time job at the Scavos’ pizzeria? Can’t these two just be happy for a season? Orson wrote Mike a prescription for more pain meds, feeling guilty that he hit Mike with his car and never got around to admitting it. Julie told her mom that she saw Mike at the drug store getting his fix, and suddenly, a few piercings, unbecoming hairstyles, and X-rated blogs didn’t seem quite so bad.
NEXT: Risky sleeping arrangements
What did seem like a bad idea, at least to me, was Bree’s intention to cozy up next to baby Ben. I move around in my sleep, and surely I’d suffocate a small child. Orson shared my worries. ”What if I roll over and crush him?” he asked. But Bree thought a family bed would be best, considering she let Andrew sleep in his crib and look how he turned out. ”Stupid? Lazy? Short?” Andrew wanted to know. I, in turn, wanted to know why Andrew doesn’t get more lines. I also wondered if maybe Andrew turned out the way he did because his mother talks about her sex life over the breakfast table. My favorite moment of the episode was when Bree visited Andrew in his new apartment (read: dump). He thanked her for forcing him to change his ways and grow up, then, noticing condensation slip down the side of a glass in the way only Bree’s child could, asked, ”Mom, would you mind using a coaster?” I guess we really do become our parents.
Or we give them the boot, meet up with their gay ex-husband, and beg them to forgive past wrongdoings. We learned more about Stella (besides that ”she’s broke and old and rude”), for example, that she knows how to make her own booze and can break into a Cadillac. Each week I find more reasons to love Stella. We also met Glen, Stella’s ex-husband, who left because Stella cheated on him, or so Lynette thought. Turns out Stella turned Glen gay. ”I don’t think that’s how it works,” Lynette said, but the gay neighbors were too busy polishing their giant metal ornament to give their opinion. Lynette invited Stella to move back in, saying, ”Having you around these past few months was sort of fun.” I couldn’t agree more. Then Glen invited Stella to move in to his open guest room, and the three sat around and smiled and laughed, and it was nice, but it felt a little bit like a situation comedy from the ’80s. So I knew one of them would surely die in the next episode. Cue Lynette’s bloodcurdling scream from the previews.
So what do you think? Is blackmail the only way to keep secrets or score drugs? Was that Sylvia, Adam’s Chicago secret, lurking in the shadows outside the Mayfair residence, or was that Tina Fey? Any death predictions for next week’s twister touchdown? Did a sleepy Susan really tell Mike that she was dreaming the two of them were ponies? Or prom dates? Pot dealers? Pop Watchers?