Mary apprises Annie and Julie of RevCam's latest busybody antics, and all three of them look disgusted. I can relate.

Down at the hospital cafeteria, Eric is holding a tray while Matt points out the various offerings, all of which he refers to as "slop." He says he's heard that "the orange slop is a little spicy." RevCam opts for Jell-O. He mocks Matt's hair net. He also explains that he's waiting to talk to Hank, since he feels Hank isn't treating Julie very well. Matt's wise words belie his dorky manner when he says, "And you just felt compelled to run to the hospital and tell him?" RevCam's justification for sticking his nose where it really doesn't belong is that he cares about Julie. Matt says, "So Hank's wrong and you're right? And this has nothing to do with Hank one-upping you when he saved your life?" RevCam looks annoyed and pettily demands his Jell-O. At the rate the kids are dispensing wisdom, I can't wait for Ruthie's take on the whole Julie/Hank situation. Well, actually, I can.

Back at the Camden Compound Julie is still ranting about Hank, claiming that he's probably out having dinner with his patient who's a supermodel: "No, being a model wasn't good enough for her. She had to go and be a supermodel." I'm trying to imagine a universe where a supermodel would date Ed Begley, and I'm drawing a blank. But Julie's just loopy that way; after all, her out-of-control hormones are just raging! She tells Mary to take her car, then throws her the car keys and leaves the room sobbing. Annie asks if she was that bad. I assume she means during her pregnancies. Mary avoids the question and leaves. Yup, let's hammer that message home, writers! There might be one viewer out there who isn't entirely convinced that every single pregnant woman is utterly insane.

Mary and Simon try to get the Demon Urchin to come with them to dinner, but Ruthie says she'd rather stay home and look after the twins. This line is followed by one of her giant tilty-headed, closed-mouth smiles, the sight of which makes me want rip my eyeballs right out of my skull. I would settle for beating her acting coach with a very large stick, though. Mary and Simon obviously don't much care whether Ruthie comes with them, and they leave. Ruthie runs over to her bed and picks up the cat, who yowls in protest. Good God, then she starts talking to the cat. Shouldn't someone be calling the Glenoak ASPCA about now? Ruthie says, "It's just you and me now," and I swear the poor kitty looks terrified. Happy whines outside the bedroom door, inexplicably wanting to get in. I comfort myself by thinking it's possible Happy just wants to get into the bedroom so she can bite Ruthie. I imagine myself opening the door to let her in.