I know those little train cases full of low-budget eye shadows and stuff aren't worth the money, but that knowledge doesn't stop me from wanting one.
RevCam is in his home office, watering his fern. Ah, the lives of the Called Ones. Shana calls to let him know that she was accepted to NYU. Then she hems and haws about breaking the news to Matt. She'll tell him, but not right now.
Simon's in his room, slamming a large piece of fabric into his wastebasket. StuporMom comes in and says, "This is not a hamper," all smiley and stuff. Simple tells her he's dropping out of the visual arts project. He makes an excuse about the other guys not wanting him there. StuporMom is trying to pep-talk him and tell him that they just don't know him well enough, blah blah. Simon says he doesn't like them. Turning on her Ugly Face, Annie sternly enforces one of the Camden Cult rules: "Simon, we like everyone. Give them one more chance, for me." Yeah, Simon. You like everyone, dammit. So you'd better start liking the paint-sniffers, you little punk. Simon says he'll try. Annie slaps him on the shoulder like he's her coon hound and says, "Good boy!"
In the kitchen, Ruthie is all dom-queen telling Matt not to move. Matt sits there with clay on his nose, wondering why RevCam's on the phone with Shana. RevCam emerges from his den and Ruthie tells him he's next. Ruthie leaves and Matt totally flies off the handle in RevCam's face. Rev tells him that his conversation with Shana falls under "pastor-parishioner privilege." Dopey asks, "What about father-son obligation?" Then he has to pull the hilarious clay off his nose. RevCam tells him, "Get out of my face before I SLAP that clay off you. Call your skanky ho yourself, and step off so I can drink my damn soy milk." Matt runs out of the room, leaving Daddy Rev with the Play-Doh in his hand.
Someone's at the door. Rev and Annie go to answer it. It's Robbie Pah-mer, a friend of Mary's, from, you know, community service work. Annie says, "We know who you are, muthafucka." Okay, well, she doesn't say that, but she may as well have, with the optical poison she's spraying. "Mary's on restriction," RevCam bubble-bursts. "She's not allowed to have dates right now, or even in the near future." Annie shakes her head like a good little hausfrau. Robbie knows that, but he wanted to speak to the CamRents without Mary knowing he was there, so that they wouldn't suspect anything later when he made his move to get into Mary's Jockey-For-Hers. They step out onto the porch and Robbie tells why he's doing time. He got a ride with acquaintances who had beer in the car, and the driver was drunk and ran a red light, and Robbie was busted by association for possession by a minor. Okay. Robbie continues to suck up majorly and asks for permission to call Mary. Meanwhile, nosy-ass Lucy scopes out the scene through the window. RevCam sighs and makes Robbie, and us, wait for his answer.
"I can't believe he's talking to Mom and Dad!" nosy-ass Lucy is telling Mary on the stairs. "How cool is that?" Mary wants to know. Then she makes a weird breast-stroke-looking gesture and asks if she looks different. No, Mary. You look just as sloppy as you always do picking up trash at the park. Lucy gives her sister an up-and-down assessment that seems to indicate that Mary's looking rather tasty. Mary thinks she should look different because for the first time in her life, really truly in love, blah blah.