There is one pizza place that makes sense for our renovation meals. Quick, cheap, tasty (usually), and doesn’t use sesame or walnut. It is thus unfortunate that after we last ate there, the adults in the family felt less than 100%, with one of us (moi) operating at more like 2% for a day and a half. Was it the pizza? Or was it a coincidence? I want to say coincidence, but I also had to look away while my husband threw the leftovers into the compost lest I retch at the thought.
What this meant is that I spent more time than usual in a haze between sleep and “Frasier.” And in doing so, I caught up with episodes I’d missed, from the first eight seasons that stream on Pluto TV. If you want all 11 seasons (I had literally just assumed there were eight, but wondered why an ep I remembered would never appear), you have to pay for something called Paramount Plus. Maybe I can be a sitcom influencer and they can sponsor that because if not, I’m not convinced.
Anyway, in this particular 1997 episode, Frasier meets his dream woman. A beautiful, high-powered lawyer who for some reason wants to jump into bed with him. “Frasier” is funny on that front, sometimes “Seinfeld”-like in the unrealisticness of how attractive various stunning women find the protagonist, but more typically overshooting the mark in the other direction, with Frasier suffering epic dry spells, not that he’s one to complain. (His complaints about this are half the show.)
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