Elena is absolutely certain she will not be calling Mariano, her estranged, cheating boyfriend. She professes this fact repeatedly. But when Vero drops by, still tipsy from the club, discussion of lonely reality has its effect. She breaks down and picks up the phone…

The cocktail party effect explains our ability to isolate a solitary voice amidst a sea of yappers, music and crowd noise. Let’s meet our ladies at the disco, where background noise and the effects of actual cocktails upon speech put our own c.p.e. skills to the test. (This one is hard, use the SLOW button!)

You know, it’s never the drummer or the bassist that gets the big ego, it’s usually el cantante. In this case one is about to ruin Viole’s big opening party by refusing to play on a small stage. Is this Juan’s big chance for rock and roll stardom, or is he better off sticking to his new job as plomo (roadie)?

Cianuro is, as you may have guessed, the Spanish term for “cyanide,” a poison that has long been used to propel dramatic intrigue. In Gabriel García Márquez’ Love in the Time of Cholera, for example, the photographer kills himself with it. Watch closely for the lethal chemistry cameo.

Gala says she is ill in the guardia of a hospital, but that doesn’t seem to be the case at all. Meanwhile, Majo is intent on interrupting her husband’s enjoyment of a good book.

What exactly does Soledad care about that fellow’s uncle? And is the former child star really concerned with the girls’ ability to earn a living? Stay tuned…

Gloria and Majo are still on the same job but inhabit different planets. Meanwhile Melina connives to plant seeds of desertion in Gala’s unsuspecting head…

The meaning of fascista is self-evident, but Southern Cone countries also use facho. Balas, of course, are “bullets” but in some countries also have the alternately slang meaning of “homosexuals” or “gays.” Balas and Fachos are, evidently, also the names of tv shows in which Majo and Gloria’s young client stars.

When we ask for two, we’re happy to get any, but Melina is a lady not used to being short-changed, abril bello or no…

Goods and services that show up on our urban doorsteps are the ultimate in convenience. Latin Americans love el delivery as much as anyone, maybe even moreso.

Milagros is sidelined from the fútbol match and forced to peddle soda pop to pay for the team’s new shoes. Meanwhile, el patrón is getting the third degree from his mother, who lets on to us that he’s got a guacho child of his own on the loose—spawned with the butler’s sister?

It seems the brother-in-law is having an affair with the cook’s daughter, who is trying to get him to help her out of her maid’s uniform, and not only during the wee hours of the morning. But it doesn’t seem like el patrón is in the mood to be doing any favors for his wife’s brother, does it now?

It turns out that Tere wants to learn the piano, just like grandma. Or could it be she just wants an excuse to be with Juan? Mani stops by Amalia’s kiosk but forgets his Oreos on the way out.

Mauro’s not afraid to place a wager on his success with Violeta, though we wouldn’t bet on it ourselves. Franco drops into Dolores’ shop, just in time to realize that Sergio is the father of Brisa.

Totally ignorant of Jose’s longing for him, Mani (“el soñador”) is having his own private chat with Juan (who’s motto is: “quizás signifca sí”). It’s Clara, not Jose, who’s on Mani’s mind. Franco is thrilled with the job Violeta is doing, but tension is in the air when a cunning rubia enters the scene.

Sofi’s “ex” seems to be courting a restaining order, no pun intended. Meanwhile, Jose, still pining for Mani, has a heart to heart with her brother, Franco, over the breakfast table about unrequitted love.

Sometimes if you’re sitting at home, depressed, stewing in a pot of emotional turmoil and angst, really the best thing to do is just go out and shake it! (P.S. If your boss looks like she’s taken the bullet train to Splitsville, we strongly suggest you don’t mention it… especially if you are looking for her to sign off on your French classes!)

That mujeriego Mariano has really messed with poor Elena’s head. If we were her, we’d dump the scoundrel for Durand, the suave French lawyer, tout suite.

A show about four professional women who live in the big city and talk about sex and men all the time? Where on earth did Telefe come up with this idea?

Juan and Violeta’s mom overhears them talking, and finds out that Juan has been fired. She doesn’t take the news well. Meanwhile Dolores continues to tell Sofi about the line Sergio has been feeding her.

Mauro fired Juan from the record store. But why does his sister care? Sergio wants a chance to explain things to his wife Dolores, but why doesn’t she want to hear it? Tune in and let’s try to figure it all out.

In the previous segment we found Milagros and Gloria shaking it to un ritmo vallenato from Colombia’s Caribbean coast. Upon her return to the convent, Milagros is singing Ricky Maravilla’s "¿Que tendrá el petiso?" which probably got its inspiration from "Locas por el mambo", a huge 1950 Havana hit from the great Benny Moré.

Milena is enjoying some theater from her private box when Santiago Ritchie appears. Milena wants the lowdown on what he found out about Amelia’s girls while visiting. Santiago obliges. Flavio sleeps.

Amelia and the girls at first don’t know what to make of him, a small man who arrives with a big wad of money. Soon enough it becomes apparent, Santiago Ritchie is intent on having more than a little fun. (But could that be the only reason for his largesse?)