Just because four gal pals are captured beyond their will in a dystopian future and forced to procreate for their commanding officers doesn’t mean their right to brunch bitch sessions was taken away. Under his eye! Downtown Gilead is just thriving with Handmaids who want to vent about the men in their life — “my commanding officer Warren and I are having issues, it’s his ex, his last Handmaid hung herself and he’s just not over it” — and how un-chic their bonnets are. Hey, it’s better then eating your rations in silence while crying into your straw bed. Blessed be the fruit, right?