It Must Be Monday! 'Mad Men' Minutes on 'The New Girl'

ow. Uh, I take back everything I said last week about being bored. Except for the funny stuff.

We find out a shit ton of information this week – and it’s about time. Naturally, the show starts off with a slow simmer, but quickly turns to a boil in order to wrap up old business and head on to the new stuff. So hold on to your hats, folks, this is going to be a short but bumpy ride.

First off, the Good Doctor (that’s what I’m calling this guy until I get a name) has proposed to Joan, prompting her to fill her own shoes in order to prepare for her wedding and all that. Guess she wasn’t bluffing to Roger about knowing the day he’d ask and stuff – clearly, Joan understands The Game and how to play. Enter Jane, the hot new secretary all the guys can’t get enough of – i.e., the new Joan. Not much happens with Jane in this episode, aside from the viewers learning right off the bat that she can issue a put-down with Joan-like acidity: “If you need help finding a dead file, please let me know; otherwise, pitch your tents elsewhere.” HOLY SHIT. I want to see her and Peggy get into a curt-ness fight, for real. It would be snip-tastic and totally bitchy, and I would burn up my notebook trying to write it all down for future reference.

So, away from the snit-fest, another interesting development is taking place – the fact that Pete and Trudy still can’t seem to get pregnant. I actually feel a bit sorry for Trudy, knowing what I do about Peggy and all, since it’s clear from that little piece of info that it’s Trudy – not Pete – that's unable to procreate. Trudy tries everything to get Pete to knock her up before finally seeing a doctor; at one point, right after placing a ton of nudie mags in the bathroom for Pete, I am totally sure that she’s going to cross paths with her hubby with a shrunken head in her hands or something. But we all know the inevitable answer, and by the end of the episode, so does a very disappointed Trudy, who looks around her lovely apartment and asks Pete, “If we can’t have a baby, then what is all this for?” Le sigh. Don’t depress me while I’m drinking, Trudy. Booze is a downer, and you’ve got me guzzling.

All of this, however, is small potatoes when compared to the shit Dashing Don’s landed his chiseled jaw in this week. Bobbie is still pursuing him, under the guise of wanting to celebrate the start of Jimmy’s new show. Seems the Utzes let that jackass bend the terms of his contract to do it, which, hey, good for you, ya douchebag. So Don goes to the restaurant for drinks with Bobbie and runs into RACHEL MENKEN, who is married, which makes me sad, because she’s way more interesting than Bobbie can ever be. She walks away from Don and only allows herself the briefest of glances, which must set Don off, because Don tries to lure Bobbie up to her beachfront property to…well, you know. And if you don’t, then this is not the show for you.

Anyway, I said “tries” because they never make it up there. Fact is, they’ve been “celebrating” a bit too much. More so than I’ve been using quotation marks. Bobbie sticks her head out the window like a true bitch and says “I feel so good,” to which Don responds, “I don’t feel a thing.” Bobbi then leans into Don and he gets distracted and swerves off the road, and this is the point where I go, “Heh. Feel THAT, Don?”

All this excitement earns Don no nookie and a sweet DUI charge, which he sure as hell can’t tell Betty about. He sure as hell can’t make bail, either. What a night. Guess who he calls? Peggy, who makes the bail and puts up Bobbie for a day or so until her black eye heals. Meanwhile, Don’s trying to sneak in the house, but Betty’s not having it, since she figures he’s out having all the extramarital fun while she’s stuck at home waiting. He makes up a lie about having high blood pressure, taking meds for it and then mixing them with booze and wrecking the car. Ladies, be honest: which is worse here? Cheating or LYING about cheating and WRECKING THE CAR to boot? I couldn’t decide, so I had another drink.

Back at Peggy’s place, Bobbie can’t figure out why Peggy’s being so hospitable for no apparent reason. She keeps pressing, but Peggy’s not giving it up and I wish she would because I have a feeling I’m about to get some valuable info here. I’m right, by the way.

Turns out that while Peggy was in denial about the birth of her son, Don was trying to figure out where the hell she disappeared to, since they’ve got makeshift dildos and lipstick to sell to women and she’s the only one who knows how to do it. So he finds her and gives her a bit of the ol’ Whitman wisdom (like what I did there? Wit and wisdom? Heh): “It never happened.” Oh, Don. I’m surprised at you. Have you ever given birth or witnessed one? It’s not something you’ll soon forget.

Bobbie leaves Peggy with some advice, too: “You can’t be a man, and you shouldn’t try. Be a woman. When it’s done right, it’s very powerful business.” Oh, really? Like, hmm…I don’t know…FLIPPING A FUCKING CAR powerful?

Later, the Barretts strut into Don’s office to thank him for the whole Utz contract thing, which means that Bobbie’s probably in for a few more episodes. Which also means that Don is going to keep living dangerously. Hope Peggy’s up for a trip to the morgue next week. After a long, tense day, Don comes home to a salt-less dinner; thanks to his BS about the high blood pressure, Betty’s no longer serving it to him. Wow, now there is literally NO SPICE in his marriage. Way to get literal, writers of Mad Men. But hell, I’ll forgive it this time, since they’re starting to give up some of the goods.

End credits, Viagra and Just For Men commercials roll. Can you see Don Draper giving a moving Carousel-like speech to the Viagra people? “These guys are old, and dying…to be recognized as the virile, experienced men they are.” Now THERE’S an ad I’d set down the remote for.

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 August 25, 2008