I wasn't going to do these again, because, frankly, you guys are a little too clingy, and I'm just not in the point of my life right now where I'm looking for that kind of commitment. But last night's Mad Men deserves a recap, so it's getting a recap.

First of all, hasn't this season kicked ass so far? Like, curvaceous, Joan-sized, I'd-hit-it-but-I'm-also-kind-of-curious-how-it-fits-through-standard-doorframes kind of ass? As much as I worship this show, Matt Weiner usually moves it along at a more deliberate, glacial pace, but Season 3 is pushing forward at a much faster clip, and I love it.

We begin in the Sterling Cooper offices, where creative is auditioning actresses to advertise Pepsi's new diet drink, which is called "Patio."

Peggy informs everyone (minus Harry, whom she kicks out for practically masturbating to/on/inside one of the hopefuls) that they'll be working through the weekend on a campaign for Bacardi. It's just her, Smitty and Paul until Miles Fisher (you might remember him from this) drops by to smoke everyone out. Everyone is mildly enjoying himself until Paul's dealer divulges that Paul's a Jersey boy who (gasp!) can't even sing. Wounded, Paul de-friends him Pineapple Express-style and sends him off to fulfill his destiny of fathering both Tom Cruise and Chiristian Bale.

Roger and Jane throw a bash on Long Island in honor of the Kentucky Derby, and Harry, Pete and Don plus their wives are invited. But the real guest of honor is hilarious old-timey racism.

In the flat-out funniest Mad Men moment since Freddy Rumsen played Mozart on the dick flap of his khakis, or since Freddy Rumsen found out how much urine a file cabinet can hold (seriously I fucking miss Freddy Rumsen), Roger dons blackface and croons a tune to his junior bride. Don looks embarrassed as all hell, but he goes to the movies by himself, so who's the real loser here?


Back at Casa Draper, Sally steals five dollars from Betty's increasingly senile father Gene, thinking he'll forget about it immediately. Instead, he clings desperately to it like Rob Zombie to the Halloween franchise, and spends all day combing the house for it/accusing the housekeeper of theft. Feeling guilty, Sally decides to give it back, though she waits until dinner, figuring that if food makes her grandpa half as happy as it makes her, he'll be more open to forgiveness.

She leans in from the hall and oh-so-discretely tosses the bill into the dining room. Then she "finds" it and takes it over to him. Seemingly satisfied, he nevertheless sits back and stares at her through the rest of dinner, either out of suspicion or because he's confused Sally with a honeybaked ham, and himself with Sally. Sally is fat, you guys.

Back at the part-ay, the libations have loosened everyone up, and people start hitting the dance floor. That's when Pete and Trudy unleash the greatest two and a half minutes of rhythmic motion ever recorded on film. If John Trovolta had been watching, it would have been the single most devastating thing he's ever experienced

It's also probably the only time in this entire series that the couple has looked halfway content. If they would just spend the rest of their lives dancing nonstop, they'd be fine. Marriage solved.

Elsewhere, near the bathroom, Betty's fetus gets felt up by some creepshow whom we later discover is in politics, and friends with Bertram – so she might be seeing him and his explorative hands again.

Back at Sterling Cooper, Paul is trying to tell everyone how smart he is, but Peggy's getting all distracted by the work they haven't even started on. She gets an idea and sends the gadabouts home. Her new secretary, who came to work on the weekend unsolicited because she's an even bigger loser than Don, scolds Peggy for partaking in all the reefer madness, but Peggy pwns her like a boss. (Then compliments her shiny jewelry like a high person.)

Joan and her fiancee are holding a dinner with some of the other docs from his hospital (including the chief resident), and we learn that in addition to being a rapist, he's a terrible doctor, especially at performing something called a "manectomy," which is, ironically, exactly what Joan needs. Desperate for a change of subject, he steers the dinner conversation back toward Joan by shoving an accordion into her tits and begging her to distract everyone from his doctoral inadaquacy. She obliges, but not without delivering an "I just got the upper hand in this relationship" stink-eye.

Jane causes a big drunken scene at the party, leading her to bring up the Draper's marital woes. Betty storms off, and Roger shows up just in time to see Jane grabbing at Don's shirt. Roger is mildly outraged, apparently forgetting that time he totally made a play for Betty. Also he wants to know why Don don't like him no mo'. Don tells him he's a become a joke.

Later on, Don watches Jane and Roger dance and seems to come to some kind of understanding about their relationship. Then he walks out to Betty, standing alone in the dark, and kisses her.

Gene calls Sally into his room, and just when you think he's going to get all molesty or abusey or have another army flashback and start peeling her like a potato (old people are seriously fucking scary, man), he just has her read him a book instead. I guess lisps make him sleepy.

Next Week:

Don, to Pete: "I think you should be taking this decision a little more seriously."

My girlfriend, to me: "I hope it's a decision to enter a national dance competition."