Episode Report Card
Al Lowe: B | 2 USERS: A+
The Tracks of My Mother-Freakin' Tears

Jim learns here where nice guys finish -- and that is that they finish rolling around with Lauren Graham on a couch in her parents' house. "Is your dad home?!" he wheezes, popping his head up. "Jim," she breathes heavily, "it's okay. We're 38!" With that, she pulls him back down on the couch, but he jumps back up, reporting that, having become accustomed to the idea of never getting laid, he has no condoms. She laughs, and suddenly remembers that it's okay, she knows where some are! "Why does your dad have condoms in his desk drawer?" Jim wonders. Sarah, still breathing heavily says she's not sure, but when she found them she stared at them for two hours. "Do you think he's having an affair?" Jim asks. Sarah: "OH! MY! GOD! Stop talking!"

Certainly less sexy but still about body fluids, Katie is working when Crosby comes in with a report. "Just so you know," he says, "he never participated in a single Olympic event. So..." Katie is confused. "Your phenomenal sperm," he says, "traveled with the bowling team as a third backup. He never rolled a single ball. I just thought you should know that before you get out your turkey baster." (Okay, bowling is not an Olympic sport, but having just watched one million hours of curling with my obsessed husband, I have to say I can't understand why it isn't.) "You Googled my sperm," Katie says, disgusted. Hee. Crosby: "Yeah, I Googled your sperm!" He says he can't believe she's even doing this without discussing it with him. She shoots back that she's doing it because she wants to have a baby, and every time she brings up the word commitment with him, he winces. "I do not!" he insists. Katie: "You. Just. Winced." He argues with her about the wincing, wincing all the while. "You're an infant!" she says. And she's panicky, he retorts. "I'm 34!" she says, which... okay, yes, it is time to maybe get started on the baby thing, but certainly not time to panic. He says instead of inseminating herself with the sperm of some third-rate bowler, she should maybe have had a conversation with him about it, maybe considered a compromise on the baby thing. "You want half a baby? A bunny? What's a compromise?" No, he says, just maybe that she should give him time to figure out his career stuff. "I just saw a decade flash before my eyes," she says. "I need numbers, baby." Crosby says okay, five years, tops. Katie: "I'll give you three." Crosby: "Fine." Katie: "Okay." Crosby: "Great." They look at each other. "So," she says, suddenly softening. "You're saying you'll have a baby with me in three years?" Crosby: "...yep?" The crazy woman throws her arms around him. "Oh, my God, I love you!" she cries, as he pats her back and half-heartedly gives her a "Love you, too."

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