Birdbones Tries To Peck Her Way In With A Couple Of BFFs

What I love about the series premiere of Playing House is how nicely it brings along all the (poor, foolish, unfortunate) people who didn't see writer-creator-stars Lennon Parham and Jessica St. Clair in their first TV series vehicle, the tragically short-lived Best Friends Forever. Just as in their first series -- and in life, as far as I can tell -- St. Clair and Parham play dear, close friends of many years' standing, who are so comfortable with each other that they'll feel each other up, discuss poo in mixed company, and engage in a lusty car sing-along to a sweet Kenny Loggins jam. The first episode establishes how much St. Clair's Emma and Parham's Maggie love each other -- more than Maggie loves her porn-addict husband Bruce, for sure; more than Emma loves her fancy job in Shanghai. The second episode tests whether they have any love left over for anyone else. And it turns out they do, which is good news for the baby.

As can happen when you live in a tiny town, Maggie and Emma run into two people at the hardware store that they don't want to see: Mark, Emma's ex from high school; and Tina, now Mark's wife but formerly a fragile drill team member Emma nicknamed "Birdbones" when they were all teenagers. All they know about Tina these days is that she's still pretty frail, and she keeps remodeling her house; and when Emma and Maggie spy on Tina and Mark discussing drawer pulls, her whining that one Mark picks out "feels too big in [her] small hand" doesn't exactly make them want to get to know her better. But then they're discovered, and because Maggie and Emma might be sarcastic and mean in private but are actually basically decent people who don't want to make shit awkward in public, Emma waaaaaaaay overcompensates for the chance run-in, declaring that she will not leave until they all make firm plans to get together. Tina guilelessly calls Emma's bluff, suggesting brunch at her house. Mark can't be there because he has to work, but Tina doesn't mind. This has terrifying potential, and everyone except Tina knows it.

At first, when Emma and Maggie arrive for brunch, Tina just seems like a blank-eyed weirdo. She's put together a comically lavish brunch spread for her guests, but has no intention of eating any of it herself. She's practically vibrating with excitement as she proudly leads a tour of her immaculate house. When she ends in the master bath and Maggie and Emma cheerfully say they'll just pee in front of each other, Tina chirps, "...Girlfriends!," and it's clear how much she'd love to have a friend as close as they are with each other. Friendship that close can be gross, but it's better than the loneliness that's apparently come from Tina's determined perfectionism.

Before long, Maggie and Emma have had a misadventure in Tina's stunning shower; padding damply through the house in Tina and Mark's bathrobes, they leave a wet trail that Tina slips in (ruining the tray of hors d'oeuvres she prepared: "My beautiful eggs!!!"), requiring splints on both of her bird shins. Needing their help forces Tina to let her guard down and allow herself to unwind with a Bloody Mary ("I mean, I'ma make a virgin one, 'cause I got a baby growing in my ute" - Maggie), since, as Emma puts it, "It is not a real brunch unless you pour some vodka into juice." She seems so chill that when she admits that she sees the humour in her old nickname and thinks whoever came up with it is a genius, Emma gets carried away and takes credit. Well, it turns out that "genius" remark only applied to a hypothetical person who made up a mean nickname for her but wasn't actually in her home eating muffins -- and, thus, brunch is ruined, with Tina fleeing the scene on her bum legs.

But that's when Tina discovers that she's been going about the whole female-friendship thing the wrong way, because when Emma and Maggie find her hiding out in her secret hoarder closet, she's (a) humanized, and (b) much more intriguing. Perfection was never going to attract these two bitches, but seeing her vulnerability -- by which I mean "seeing her covered in Cadbury Creme Egg goo" -- totally does the trick. See, Tina is so lonely that her only human contact outside of Mark seems to be with QVC operators: "One of them is named Yolanda. Yolanda's my best friend." Emma admits that she and Maggie are both jealous of Tina's lovely house and great life: "And also? PS? Your body be bangin'." "Really?" quavers Tina. "You think my body be bangin'?" "YES," Emma insists. "'Cause it does! It DOES be bangin'."

The discovery of the hoarder closet, the only evidence of Tina's imperfection, represents a huge leap forward and lets the three go from frenemy to friends -- not just because its undeniable craziness gives Emma back her will to live, but because it offers Emma and Maggie the chance to bring to bear all the organizing expertise they've learned from Oprah hoarder specials. And given that Tina still wants either to keep nineteen of her twenty microwave omelet pans OR throw them in the garbage -- because if she can't have them, no one can -- she can really use a couple of friends who aren't too nice to be honest with her when she needs some extra-tough love. And also just aren't too nice in general, because everyone needs friends mean enough to talk shit with you about anyone who isn't currently in the room with you.