By Matthew Wood

Love is a fickle creature, and the boys learn that lesson the hard way this week.

Bret and Jemaine find themselves a couple of girlfriends down at the croissant shop, but as always, there’s trouble in paradise. For starters, Jemaine’s girl Felicia (or is it Lisa?) can’t stand him, and the extent of their conversations revolve around how Bret is making out with his girl. But poor Bret is just being used for sex – even though he wants to wait to make it special – and his girl won’t take no for an answer.

A gender role reversal ensues, as the girl tricks him into sleeping with her (or at least sitting there while she gets it on) by telling him she’s leaving for Iraq the next day. An emotional Bret is distraught, as she happily rehashes the details with all her friends after blowing him off.
But at least he got some action – even if he didn’t want any. Jemaine would kill for some lovin’, but even his attempts at reverse psychology fail. “I don’t want to have sex with you,” he coos to his lady, but she completely agrees and keeps on running.

So here they are again. Bret’s alone and vulnerable. Jemaine’s alone and horny. And they’re still looking for that elusive first gig.
It looked like manager Murray was making progress on that front, as he cut a demo CD with a guy in the ghetto named AJ Jones (you know, Quincy’s brother). But it turns out most of the CD boxes are filled with sawdust, and the copies of the band’s song are actually more valuable when erased and sold as blank CDs. Ouch.

The show is definitely finding a niche – not necessarily side-splittingly funny, but filled with enough dry humor to keep it interesting. And this week’s songs are on par with the best of their work. I was feeling a little uncultured when I didn’t really understand the boys as they broke into a perky tune sung in French, until I realized they didn’t know French either, and were just reciting the few words they may have picked up (including “baguette” – twice).
Despite their complete lack of love lives, professional lives and, really, any lives at all, you gotta admit the boys have a certain jena se qua. That’s French for class … or something like that.