Well ladies, it’s that time of the week again. Time to check in on the handmaids of Gilead, and honestly, if you don’t immediately donate your entire direct deposit to your local Planned Parenthood after this one, then IDK what to tell you.
We open on sex, but like, the good kind. The kind where both people are into it and have orgasms and take off their clothes and stuff. It’s a welcome change.
Offred: But that can’t happen again.
Audience: Girl, I tell myself the same thing.
Sadly for Offred, the sex is over and now she’s back in Handmaid world, cleaning blood off of a wall, like ya do. Aunt Lydia is there and so is Crazy-Ass One Eyeball Janine. Important foreign people are coming to Gilead and they don’t want them to know about the whole “we hang bodies from this wall as a reminder to all of our iron-clad regime” thing.
Side bar to anyone from Gilead who is reading this rn (because Gilead is basically real at this point): Ya’ll would have a much easier time washing your blood wall if you try to clean it regularly, rather than only cleaning it when fancy foreigners are coming. But like, I always tell myself the same thing about cleaning my bedroom so I get that it’s easier said than done.
Random Handmaid From Episode One: Foreign ambassadors are coming. They’re going to be at your house.
Offred: How tf do you know that? And where tf did you come from? I haven’t seen you since episode one?
Random Handmaid From Episode One: My commander. Small dick, big mouth.
Offred: Lol okay you can hang.
Cut to Offred at home chatting with Serena Joy. Turns out Random Handmaid From Episode One was right: A trade delegation from Mexico is coming and SJ is in full wife mode, making sure everything is on point for when the Mexicans arrive.
SJ: Hey so, while I have you here, if you could not mention the fact that you’re a sex slave while the Mexicans are here, that would be so great.
Offred: But I am a—
SJ: Awesome. Great chat.
Flashback to when the Waterfords were actually in love and shit. Still prayed before sex tho. That is troubling.
Hot(ish) Nick picks up Offred to bring her to the Mexican Ambassador, but first they engage in some very important this-shit-could-get-us-killed PDA.
Hot(ish) Nick: You look pretty.
Offred: I wear the same shit every day.
Offred is now being presented to the Mexican Ambassador, who is a woman in a giant yellow pantsuit. Freedom and feminism at its finest.
Seriously. If this outfit doesn’t scream “I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want” then I don’t know what does.
Mexican Ambassador: So, Offred, are you happy?
We now learn a couple important things about the world of Gilead (aka, us in 5 years). First, we learn that there is a famine in Mexico because of global warming. They don’t have oranges, but we do have oranges. Mr. Waterford is pretty shitty about it.
Mr. Waterford: I know you have rights but do you have…ORANGES?!?!
Then, the Mexican Ambassador drops a fucking bomb—Serena Joy once wrote a book about “domestic feminism” called A Woman’s Place and was arrested for inciting a riot.
SERENA JOY WE SEE YOU NOW OKURRRRR??????
Mexican Ambassador: When you wrote your book, did you ever imagine a society like this?
Serena Joy: A society that reduced carbon emissions by 70%?
Mexican Ambassador: No, a society in which women can no longer read your book.
Audience: OHHH SHIT WOOOOOORRRRLLLDDD STAAAARRRR
The Mexican Ambassador keeps asking all the women if they like living in Gilead and it’s like, hey lady why don’t you try asking them when all the men who own them aren’t around? Like maybe declare a girl’s trip to the bathroom and get the real shit? Just a thought.
Flashback to Serena Joy’s old life, when she was allowed to wear florals. She and Mr. Waterford plan a fun date to the movies (surprised they don’t have to pray before that too) and they’re about to start the movie when Mr. Waterford gets a crucial text (hate when that happens…)
Mr. Waterford: Remember that terrorist attack we planned? The one on The White House, Congress, and The Supreme Court? Well it’s happening.
Serena Joy: Praise Be
Um…okay so a few things here:
1. I knew Serena Joy was a bitch, but I didn’t know she was a blow-up-the-government-bitch. I thought she was just a like, be-nice-to-your-face-then-subtweet-you-from-the-bathroom type person. This is a new level.
2. Maybe Mr. Waterford is new to the whole terrorism thing, but this def seems like the type of conversation you would not want to be having via text. At least do Snapchat. That shit disappears.
3. Turn down your brightness, dude. You’re in a movie. Honestly this confirms everything I’ve ever thought about what type of person uses full brightness in a movie theater. Terrorists.
Cut back to Offred, who is in her room chilling when Hot(ish) Nick shows up. Mr. Waterford wants to see her. The two of them start making out in the hallway like this is the hallway before first period. Seriously, it’s like these two think they still live in the United States or something.
Just when you thought you’d forgotten that Mr. Waterford literally needs to play Scrabble to get hard, here are Offred and Mr. Waterford playing Scrabble again.
Offred is over it and not listening, which would be fine and normal behavior for someone playing Scrabble with a narc like Mr. Waterford if this wasn’t Gilead and she wasn’t his weird sex slave.
Mr. Waterford: Am I boring you?
Offred Internal Monologue: We’re on game 500 of Scrabble what the fuck do you think?
Mr. Waterford gets offended that Offred isn’t wet for Scrabble and tells her to leave. Then Offred remembers one crucial detail: Mr. Waterford is a fuckboy, and like all fuckboys, he’s a fucking idiot.
Offred: Can I stay here, pweeeeeeeeeaaaasssseeee *bats eyelashes*
Mr. Waterford: Yes. I am a weak and fragile male.
Then Mr. Waterford and Offred then start MAKING OUT, like she wasn’t just making out with Hot(ish) Nick like two seconds ago.
Offred—u officially nasty. Honestly, you gotta hand it to the girl for living in patriarchal dystopian sex slavery and still managing to be a player. Like, take notes. Ya girl has it going on.
Now it’s time for a big party planned by Literal Terrorist Serena Joy, and all the handmaids are lined up getting your typical pre-prom pep talk from Aunt Lydia. No alcohol. Leave room for Jesus. Don’t tell anyone you’ve been conscripted against your will into sexual servitude. That kind of thing.
Oserena Bin Joydin shows up to take one last look at the handmaids to make sure they’re all presentable. Obviously, there is one person who is not presentable at all.
SJ: Um yeah who is the freak with no eyeball?
Aunt Lydia: Oh, that’s Crazy-Ass One Eyeball Janine. She’s actually the only person who is excited to be here so it’d be pretty sad if you—
SJ: Get her out of my fucking sight.
Crazy-Ass One Eyeball Janine: But I want to go to the party!
Aunt Lydia: First of all, chill, it’s not really a party. Second of all, I’ll make sure you get ice cream.
Crazy-Ass One Eyeball Janine: Oh. We good.
Honestly, I wish I loved anything as much as Janine loves ice cream. It’d make my life much richer.
Anyway, the girls all go into the party, which looks like the lamest fucking party I’ve ever seen, probably because it was planned by Serena Joy, who, need I remind you, prays before sex.
Offred: Ugh I used to smoke weed in the woods with Moira. This party fucking sucks.
Flashback to Serena Joy’s old life, when she was allowed to wear impeccably tailored navy skirt suits. Serena is upset because now that they blew up the government and installed a religious patriarchy, nobody will talk to her.
Hmm…wonder why the fuck that is?
This is why you don’t make alliances with men, ladies. They will betray you and make you wear green-blue forever. So rude.
Cut back to the party, where Gilead is about to pull out the big guns aka the fact that their country has children in it. The Mexicans, who haven’t seen babies in a while, eat this shit up. Honestly, this infertility crisis must be pretty serious if a bunch of people are anything but totally horrified to have a bunch of 4- and 5-year-old children show up at their party and start running around. Like, nobody is getting lit around this:
Offred: Looks like Mr. Waterford is going to get his orange trade.
Random Handmaid Who Said “Small Dick, Big Mouth” Earlier: Offred you fucking dumbass they’re not trading oranges, they’re trading handmaids.
Yup. And that’s why you never trust a bitch in a giant yellow pantsuit. The Mexicans aren’t here for oranges. They’re here for handmaids so they can make them come to Mexico, and not in a cool spring break way; it’s in a continued-sex-slavery-but-now-in-a-place-where-you-don’t-speak-the-language-way. Very cool, Mexico.
Cut back to Mr. and Mrs. Waterford, who are pretty fucking stoked on how well the party went.
Mr. Waterford: You’re an amazing woman. I forgot.
Mrs. Waterford: You forgot about the time we literally planned the terrorist attack that created our current government situation? Rude.
Then they start hooking up. Honestly, everyone is hooking up this episode. For an oppressive theocracy, Gilead is horny as hell.
Speaking of horny, Offred is at Hot(ish) Nick’s loft apartment again, but she’s actually not horny at all. She’s the opposite of horny: upset about the role of women and her inability to take charge of her own biological destiny.
Offred: *finally describes what Mr. Waterford does to her as rape*
Hot(ish) Nick: So…are we hooking up tn or….?
The next day, Offred is getting ready to go on her daily walk with New Ofglen—who, need I remind you, said last episode she used to suck dick for meth—when she runs directly into the Mexican ambassador. The two of them are alone, which seems like a pretty huge oversight on the part of the Waterfords, but then again they’re Christian misogyny terrorist so who the fuck knows what they’re up to…
Mexican Ambassador: Hey Offred. So great to meet you. Do you want some chocolates?
Offred: I lied to you. This is a brutal place. We’re prisoners. If we run they try to kill us, or worse. They beat us. They use cattle prods to try to get us to behave. If we’re caught reading they cut off a finger. Second offense, the whole hand. They gauge out our eyes, maim us in worse ways than you could imagine. They rape me. Every month, whenever I might be fertile.
Mexican Ambassador: Um cool so about the choc—
Offred: I didn’t choose this. They caught me. I was trying to escape. They took my daughter. So don’t be sorry. Okay? Please don’t be sorry. Please do something.
Mexican Ambassador: Right so, there’s actually caramel chunks in here. Pretty good stuff if you’d just—
Offred: What are you gonna trade us for? We’re human beings. How can you do that? How?
Mexican Ambassador: PLEASE JUST TAKE THE CHOCOLATES MEXICO NEEDS BABIES!!!
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again—this is why you never trust a bitch in a poorly tailored yellow pantsuit. Any true feminist would have her pantsuit game on lock. The Mexican ambassador is a snake who talks a big feminist game when it’s convenient for her but ditches it when it’s not. She’s basically Taylor Swift. She clearly just snagged this pantsuit from a thrift store on her way across the border to lull the women into a false sense of security. We should have all known she was fake and phony as soon as we saw her enormous pirate collar.
But just when we think all hope is lost, the Mexican Ambassador’s friend (heretofore known as: bae), who has just been chilling in the background of every scene doing nothing, turns his feminism level up to 11.
Bae: Offred, I can help you.
Offred: Nobody can help me. I am a pris—
Bae: I can get a message to your hipster husband who you thought was dead.
Offred: Oh fuck yeah actually that would be huge, thank you.
Tl;dr: Serena Joy and Mr. Waterford are terrorists, Hot(ish) Nick has the good dick, The Mexican Ambassador is a snake, Offred’s husband is alive, and Rod Rosenstein appointed a special counsel to investigate Trump’s ties to Russia.
Pretty eventful week, if I do say so myself.