First off, Joely Fisher needs to go. I get that she's supposed to be the boss from hell, but come on. She's Cruella De Ville with a boob job and a better benefits package. And Lynette darting from staff meeting to computer screen to video IM with her kid? Nope. Not buying it, even on sale. And apparently a lot of you didn't buy Betty's therapy chat last week, either, and you're all probably right. Maybe she was spilling her guts to get those sedatives. That doesn't mean the dude who made such a mess of breakfast isn't still her hubby. Especially with that "I've had my share of family knockdown, drag-outs" comment. The family I would like to knock down and drag out to counseling is the Myers clan. Between Susan ambushing Edie and Julie's church talent-show act, her patently humiliating scene at said event and Karl's affinity for emotionally crippled women, none of these people should be allowed to play together. Nor should Bree and George, so let's hope that she sees through those flying colors on his polygraph test and realizes that her lab-coated crush is a superfreak of murderous proportions. If he needs to take out the mother-in-law to open her eyes, so be it. Which brings us to Gaby and Carlos. Guess what? Loving them. Best scenes of the night, right down to Eva Longoria trotting out the soap-trained tears for her big apology. Totally worth pausing my marathon screening of the Veronica Mars Season 1 DVDs. But now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back. It turns out there was an even better mystery last year than Mary Alice's suicide. How come none of you told me, huh? Damian J. Holbrook

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