After coming to the conclusion that all of Kiwi's current problems are "hormonal," Mother Kiwi attempts yet again to boost her son's self-esteem by saying, "If kicking were easy, everyone would be a kicker." Hm. Yeah. Yeah. I see your point. Kiwi isn't falling for it, however. In a diary entry, Kiwi tells us that his birthday's tomorrow and that he doesn't want to get older. He doesn't want to be (gasp!) eighteen. Oh, man. You're stressing about turning eighteen? Why don't you come on over to my personal hell of turning thirty, Langford? The water's still warm...
It's moving day at Allie's house, and they are wickedly unprepared. Nothing's even in boxes and the movers are already there. Allie and her mom are bitching at each other in the kitchen because Allie wants to leave to do something and her mom wants her to stay and pitch in a little bit more. "Get out," says her mom. "Just go." This situation is making me tense and I'm not even related to either one of them. I need a drink.
Allie lights up our very first official American High cigarette and tells us about her shaky relationship with her mother and father and how even though she doesn't agree or condone what he did to her mom, she still loves him. Allie feels that sometimes her mother hates her because of her love for her father. Divorce sucks. Pretty much.
Allie thinks that a change of location will ultimately help her mother move on. "If I had to move to a shack with my mom," says Allie, "to help her get better, I would." Then Allie and her mom have this really cute little wrestling match on the sofa and they wind up kissing each other (no, not in THAT way), and I'm hoping that in episodes to come that Allie and her mom get through the bad patches and wind up feeling all warm and fuzzy.
And I mean that. Really. I really do.
Oh, shut up.
Next episode: We meet Pedro and his relationship with drugs; Robby ponders a marriage to Saran-Wrap; Allie and her mom continue the battle; we encounter our very first American High drink-a-thon.