You're Invited To A 'Pity' Party! It's 'Mad Men' Minutes

HIS WEEK STARTS WITH BETTY BOUNDING FORWARD ON HER TRUSTY STEED – it’s obvious that she’s been thinking about what Jimmy told her last week, and I’m DYING to see if she finally does something with what she’s feeling, other than just bottle it up again. And, finally, my prayers have been answered, folks: she does NOT disappoint.

Some clients and agency types will be dining at Casa De Draper, and Betty’s stressing out about it (in addition to, you know, that OTHER thing). This amounts to her smashing a wobbly chair to bits with her bare fucking hands at one point while the kids look on and sort of shrug: “Oh, that Mom, she’s craaaaaaaaaaaaazy.” Won’t someone please help poor, helpless Betty? No?

Well, looks like she’ll have to take care of herself.

Meanwhile, at Sterling Cooper, everyone’s stretched thin, including Harry, who seems to have bitten off more than he can chew as the new Head of the Television Department (which consists of himself). Roger refuses to staff a script-reader position to aid Harry, so Joan gets pulled in to do this job, which fits her quite well, actually. Almost as well as her form-fitting dresses. I say “almost” because NOTHING fits her like those dresses – I mean, damn, they looked PAINTED on. How does she SIT?

In Don’s office, he and Duck are discussing Heineken, and Don insists that the way to improve the client’s market share is to put up a few end caps in the grocery store, away from the other beers and near party supplies like toothpicks to make it seem like it’s the fancy beer you serve at a dinner party. Duck and Pete seem skeptical, but insist that Don should sell that idea to the client. Elsewhere, Peg is getting henpecked by Father Gill, who’s calling her at work about getting her help with developing a poster for an upcoming church dance. I like how, when her desk phone rang, Peggy totally pretended to be her own secretary. That’s some shit I’d do, just because I need to feel important.

As always, Peggy delivers, and with a great headline: “A Night To Remember.” However, the church, in spite of throwing this dance in the first place, apparently doesn’t want its young girls remembering any kind of NIGHT. Because that is SINFUL. What isn’t sinful, though, are the outfits on these broads. In the first shot of them, I thought Peggy would sit on them, because the dresses they’re sporting seriously look like remnants of my Nana’s couch at her place in Florida. YIKES. So anyway, it’s back to the drawing board for Peggy, whose eyes are rolling backward deep into her brain tissue. I hear ya, sister: both as a copywriter and a Catholic. These pro-boner assignments can really tax you. And, no, that's not a typo.

Fast-forward to the night of the SC party at the Drapers’. LOOK! It’s a black person! Oh, never mind, it’s just Carla, the maid. Notice how it seems as if there are virtually NO black people in all of New York? Doesn’t matter where any of the characters go – and I mean, really, was the REAL New York of 1962 THAT segregated? Even on the trains?

Anyway, Betty and Carla have really outdone themselves. The party is an absolute hit. Mrs. Colson (the client’s wife) is soused, and that’s when I remember I need a refill myself. But it has to wait: Betty seats her guests for dinner, where she’s prepared a variety of dishes from around the globe. I’m impressed, and kind of wish I could pull off something like that without having to call my mother, the local fire department, and six different carry-out places just to save face.

After she’s finished telling the guests about the menu, she points them to her drink area, where she’s purchased, without any prodding or mention of the product from Don, Heineken beer, which was “imported from Holland.” Don’s philosophy is correct, and the ad men share a laugh, which Betty doesn’t understand. They explain Don’s philosophy to her, and you can see the embarrassment on her face. This is where Betty realizes that she needs to stand up for herself, and as soon as Carla helps her clear the last dish,she goes to it.

WHOA. I have a newfound respect not only for Jimmy Barrett, but now for Betty Draper as well. And this respect only grows throughout the episode, because she holds her ground, even though Don refuses to admit he’s been skanking around on her. Which…bish please. You have a REPUTATION. In NEW YORK CITY. EVERYONE KNOWS. Don needs to stop fooling himself. And to put it away, seriously.

Now that she’s truly a woman scorned, Betty spends the entire day in her party dress from the night before, tearing up the entire bedroom in order to find proof of Don’s cheating. Even Sally comes in to ask if she’s okay. Those poor fucking kids. Don comes home to find Betty disheveled and desperate, and she tells him, “I would never do this to you. How could you do this to me?” AND STILL HE DENIES. I hate this guy!

So now that Joan’s got this groovy gig reading scripts, she’s really getting into her job instead of just the gossip surrounding it. She’s really great at it too, offering suggestions based on her newfound love of soap operas (her husband, whom we FINALLY meet, encourages her, almost condescendingly, to just stay home and watch TV. Seems familiar *cough, cough* ROGER). The clients are pleased with the new, streamlined TV Department, Roger tells Harry. Harry mentions that Joan was a tremendous help, which Roger waves off with what amounts to, “Well, that’s good, now she can get back to the steno pool with the rest of my eye candy,” and tells Harry to go ahead and put a new guy in the position, since the extra help has made such a big difference. Sorry, Joan! Better luck next time, which will be around 1990 or so.

The following evening, Betty’s at home watching TV when Jimmy’s Utz commercial comes on. It’s at this point that she stands up, takes dinner out of the oven (fuck that green bean casserole anyway, drive-thrus are where it’s AT in 1962!) and phones Don at work to tell him not to come home. “I don’t care what you do, but don’t come home. I don’t want to see you.” It is a beautiful moment in Mad Men history. So beautiful, that when I see Don settling in for the night at work with a Heineken, I laugh and head into the kitchen for a refresher of my own.

Miz J, who works in advertising, has tons of opinions and a big mouth to broadcast them across the globe; however, the Internet saves her the trouble of yelling. Check out her blog at Miz J.

Posted September 15, 2008